from head to foot with a look of the most candid and kindly patronage; “and, as you are so lonely, if you will be a good boy, and come to my house to-morrow evening, you will see a select circle of my best friends. It is only quadrilles, cards, and supper.”
Was I dreaming, or did a Russian countess actually invite me out of Screwer’s counting-house to quadrilles, cards, and supper? Then, what apparel had I to appear in at the Czarinski Palace? Evening-dress had never been considered necessary to my existence; and, in the confusion of these thoughts, I could only stammer out:
“Much obliged to your ladyship, but—”
“You are thinking of your dress, young man,” said the countess, laying her small hand lightly on my arm, and looking me archly in the face. “Well, don’t disturb yourself about that; we can do fairies’ work at the Czarinski Palace, and you shall be my Cinderella. Just step round to the tea-shop in the lane behind your warehouse about seven to-morrow evening, you will find a carriage waiting there, step into it, it will bring you to the palace. The footman will show you a dressing-room where you will find everything requisite for a gentleman’s toilet; then ring the bell, and the footman will show you to my salon.”
I do not remember what I said by way of thanks and acknowledgment for this, it was so unlike anything I had ever met with; yet where was the young man in my position who would have refused?
“Oh! never mind,” said the countess, cutting me short with another light pat on the arm; “you will be kind to some Russian, perhaps, who may be lonely in England when you have become a great merchant.” She shook hands with me once more, and was going, when a sudden thought seemed to strike her. “My friend, I forgot to ask one thing,” she said; “can you speak French?”
“No, my lady,” said I, blushing to the roots of my hair, as I recollected that was the language of good society in Russia.
“Do you understand it at all?” she asked, with a searching look.
“Not a word, Madame.”
“That is unfortunate. Everybody of fashion speaks French here, and very few understand English; besides, nothing could convince them that you had not been brought up a mere peasant—a boor, you understand—if you could not speak French; but there is one expedient which has just occurred to me—you will pretend to be dumb. I know you are clever enough to act a part; it will be no loss, as you cannot understand what is spoken; but, remember, not a sound before my guests or servants—it might bring us both to be talked of, and I want to let you see society. Good-bye!”
The door had closed upon her exit before I had well comprehended the curious arrangement; but the more I thought of it the more clever and advantageous it seemed. The Countess Czarinski had evidently taken an interest in me. Was it friendly? was it more than that? A rich and childless widow, young and beautiful, moreover, had taken it into her head to show me good society and make me presentable. The chance was worth following up, whatever it might lead to.
McDiddle came in about half-an-hour after, but of course he heard nothing about it. There was no reason why he should. Seven was our closing hour, then the supper came off; some of the clerks went for walks, or to see their friends, the lazy ones went to bed. Some Russians can do a wondrous deal of sleeping. Having pondered and congratulated myself on the invitation, and given the porter a silver rouble to take no notice of my movements—a Russian understands such matters without speech—I went forth at seven on the following evening, as if to take my accustomed walk, and in front of the tea-shop there stood a carriage, a very handsome one, but with no crest on its panels. Nobody looked curious or surprised to see such an equipage in that quarter. It was strange, too, how quickly the coachman seemed to know his fare; he opened the door the moment I approached. I stepped in, and away we went to the Czarinski Palace. I knew the city well enough to see that we were not going the direct way, however, and also that we stopped at the back entrance, which was in a narrow, sombre-looking street, with a dead-wall shutting in the grounds of a monastery right opposite. A footman in splendid livery received me, showed me through a passage and up a stair to a dressing-room elegantly furnished, where, according to the countess’s promise, I found everything requisite for a gentleman’s toilet, including a complete suit of evening-dress. The clothes were made more in the Parisian than the London style, as they seemed to me. But who had taken such an exact account of my proportions? They fitted me amazingly, and my whole appearance in the full-length mirror gave me courage for the rest of the trial. Having dressed, I rang the bell, as Madame Czarinski had instructed me, and to my astonishment who should answer it but the countess herself. She wore a magnificent evening dress, of which, not being skilled in ladies’ apparel, I can only say that it was very grand and very low, and that the lady looked to great advantage in consequence. The quantity of jewels flashing from her snowy neck and arms would have done some ladies good to see; but in she came as friendly and familiar as she had been in the counting-house.
“I just wanted to see how you looked before going down to the company.
“Ah! very well indeed,” she said, turning me round by the arm, as if I had been her younger sister on the point of being brought out. “Didn’t I guess your fit, my dear boy; you will make conquests among the girls this evening. But don’t forget your part of mute; it is all we can do at present. Of course you will learn to speak French in time. I will give you lessons myself. But now I must go to receive; the footman will conduct you to the saloon; do your devoirs as if you had not seen me, and don’t forget that you are dumb.”
She left me before I could make any reply. In another minute the footman was at the door. Under his escort I reached the reception-rooms. What a noble mansion it was; how extensive, how