Chapter 34

SIR ASINUS GOES TO THE BALL.

Upon the most moderate calculation, Sir Asinus must have tied his lace cravat a dozen times before he finally coaxed his smoothly shaven chin to rest in quiet grace upon its white folds. Having accomplished this important matter, and donned his coat of Mecklenburg silk, the knight took a last survey of himself in the mirror, carefully reconnoitred the street below for lurking proctors, and then brushing the nap of his cocked hat and humming his favorite Latin song, stepped daintily into the street and bent his way toward the Raleigh.

Sir Asinus thought he had never seen a finer ball; for, to say nothing of the chariots and coachmen and pawing horses and liveries at the door--of the splendid gentlemen dismounting from their cobs and entering gay and free the spacious ball-room--there was the great and overwhelming array of fatal beauty raining splendor on the noisy air, and turning every thing into delight.

The great room--the _Apollo_ famed in history for ever--blazed from end to end with lights; the noble minstrels of the festival sat high above and stunned the ears with fiddles, hautboys, flutes and fifes and bugles; the crowd swayed back and forth, and buzzed and hummed and rustled with a well-bred laughter;--and from all this fairy spectacle of brilliant lights and fair and graceful forms arose a perfume which made the ascetic Sir Asinus once more happy, causing his lips to smile, his eyes to dance, his very pointed nose to grow more sharp as it inhaled the fragrance showering down in shivering clouds.

Make way for his Excellency!--here he comes, the gallant gay Fauquier, with a polite word for every lady, and a smile for the old planters who have won and lost with him their thousands of pounds. And the smiling Excellency has a word for the students too, and among the rest for Sir Asinus, his prime favorite.

"Ah, Tom!" he says, "give you good evening."

"Good evening, your Excellency," said Sir Asinus, bowing.

"From your exile?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ah, well, _carpe diem_! be happy while you may--that has been my principle in life. A fine assembly; and if I am not mistaken, I hear the shuffle of cards yonder in the side room."

"Yes, sir."

"Ah, you Virginians! I find your thirst for play even greater than my own."

"I think your Excellency introduced the said thirst."

"What! introduced it? I? Not at all. You Virginians are true descendants of the cavaliers--those long-haired gentlemen who drank, and diced, and swore, and got into the saddle, and fought without knowing very accurately what they were fighting about. See, I have drawn you to the life!"

Sir Asinus smiled.

"We shall some day have to fight, sir," he said, "and we shall then falsify our ancestral character."

"How?"

"We shall know what we fight about!"

"Bah! my dear Tom! there you are beginning to talk politics, and soon you will be rattling the stamp act and navigation laws in my ears, like two pebbles shaken together in the hand. Enough! Be happy while you may, I say again, and forget your theories. Ah! there is my friend, Mrs. Wimple, and her charming niece. Good evening, madam."

And his Excellency made a courtly bow to Aunt Wimple, who was resplendent in a head-dress which towered aloft like a helmet.

And passing on, the Governor smiled upon Miss Belle-bouche, and saluted Jacques.

On former occasions we have attempted to describe the costume of this latter gentleman; on the present occasion we shall not. It is enough to say that the large tulip bed at Shadynook seemed to have left that domain and entered the ball-room of the Raleigh, with the lady who attended to them.

This was Belle-bouche, as we have said; and the tender languishing face of the little beauty was full of joy at the bright scene.

As for poor Jacques, he was oceans deep in love, and scarcely looked at any other lady in the room. This caused much amusement among his friends who were looking at him; but what does a lover care for laughter?

"Ah!" he says, "a truly Arcadian scene! Methinks the Muses and the Graces have become civilized, and assembled here to dance the minuet. You will have a delightful evening."

"Oh, I'm sure I shall!" says Belle-bouche, smiling.

"And I shall, because I am with you."

With which words, Jacques smiles and sighs; and his watchful friends follow his eyes, and laugh more loudly than ever.

They say to him afterwards: "Well, old fellow, the way you were sweet upon your lady-love on that occasion, was a sin! You almost ate her up with your eyes, and at one time you looked as if you were going to dissolve into a sigh, or melt into a smile. At any rate, you are gone--go on!"

Belle-bouche receives the tender compliments of Jacques with a flitting blush, and says, in order to divert him from the subject of herself:

"There is Mr. Mowbray, entering with his sister Lucy. She is very sweet----"

"But not----"

"And must be at our May-day," adds Belle-bouche, quickly. "Good evening, Mr. Mowbray and Miss Lucy; I wanted to see you." With which words Belle-bouche gives her hand to Lucy. "You must come to our May-day at Shadynook;--promise now. Mr. Mowbray delivered my message?"

"Yes; and I will certainly come--if Ernest will take me," says Lucy, smiling.

The pale face of Mowbray is lit up for a moment by a sad smile, and he replies:

"I will come, madam--if I have courage," he murmurs, turning away.

"You must; we shall have a merry day, I think. What a fine assembly!"

"Very gay."

"Oh, there's Jenny----"

"A friend?"

"Oh, yes!"

And while this conversation proceeds, Jacques is talking with Lucy. He interrupts himself in the middle of a sentence, to bow paternally to a young lady who has just entered.

"Good evening, my dear Miss Merryheart," he says.

"Oh, sir! that is not my name," says little Martha, laughing.

"What is?"

"Martha."

"And are you not desirous of changing it?"

The girl laughs.

"Say, for Mrs. Jacques?"

"Oh!" cries Martha, with a merry glance and a pleasant affectation of reserve, "that is too public."

"The fact is," replies Jacques, smiling, "you are looking so lovely, that I could not help it."

"Oh, sir!" says the girl blushing, but delighted. Which expression makes her companion--a youthful gentleman called Bathurst--frown with jealousy.

Lucy is admiring the child, when she finds herself saluted by Sir Asinus, who has made her acquaintance some time since.

"A delightful evening, Miss Mowbray," says that worthy; "and I find you admiring a very dear friend of mine."

"Who is that, sir?" says Lucy, smiling.

"Little Miss Martha."

"She is your friend?"

"Are you not?" says Sir Asinus, bowing with great devotion to Martha; "you caught me this morning, you know."

"Oh no, sir! you caught me!"

"Indeed!" cried Sir Asinus; "I thought 'twas the lady's part!"

And he relishes his joke so much and laughs so loud, that the girl discovers her mistake and blushes, which increases her fresh beauty a thousand-fold.

Sir Asinus heaves a sigh, and contemplates a declaration immediately. He asks her hand for a quadrille instead.

"Oh, yes, sir!"

Whereupon Bathurst revolves gloomy thoughts of revenge in the depths of his soul.

Sir Asinus, seeing his rival's moodiness, smiles; but this smile disappears like a sunbeam. He sees Doctor Small approaching, and turns to flee.

In doing so, he runs up against and treads on the toes of Mr. Jack Denis, who laughs, and bowing to Lucy, presses toward her and takes his place at her side.

Sir Asinus makes his way through the crowd, paying his respects to every body.

He arrives, at length, at the door of the side room where the devotees of cards are busy at tictac. He is soon seated at one of the tables by the side of Governor Fauquier, and is playing away with the utmost delight.

In this way the ball commenced; and so it went on with loud music, and a hum of voices rising almost to a shout at times, until the supper hour. And then, the profuse supper having been discussed with that honorable devotion which ever characterizes Virginians, the dancing recommenced, more madly than ever.

But let not the reader imagine that the dances of the old time were like our own. Not at all. They had no waltzes, polkas, or the like, but dignified quadrilles, and stately minuets; and it was only when the company had become perfectly acquainted with each other, at the end of the assembly, that the reel was inaugurated, with its wild excessive mirth--its rapid, darting, circling, and exuberant delight.

Poor Sir Asinus! he had not been well treated by his lady-love--we mean the little Martha. That young lady liked the noble knight, but Brutus-like, loved Bathurst more. The worthy Sir Asinus found his graces of mind and person no match for the laughing freckled face of her youthful admirer, and with all the passing hours he grew more sad.

He ended by offering his heart and hand, we verily believe, in the middle of a quadrille; but on this point we are not quite certain. Sure are we that on this night the great politician found himself defeated by a boy--this we may assert from after events.

In the excess of his mortification he betook himself to cards, and was soon sent away penniless. He rose from the card-table feeling, like Catiline, ripe for conspiracy and treason. He re-entered the ball-room and strolled about disconsolate--a stalking ghost.

Just as he made his appearance a lady entered from the opposite door, and Sir Asinus felt the arm of a gentleman, against whom he was pressed by the crowd, tremble. He turned and looked at him. It was Mowbray; and he was looking at the lady who had just entered.

This lady was Philippa.