Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 11 (11 page)

 
          
           
"Yes, that sort of mental picture-gallery is a good thing to have, and we
will add as many fine portraits as we can. Now you shall ride in a Hansom, and
see how you like that."

 
          
           
Jenny was glad to do so, for ladies do not use these vehicles when alone, and
Ethel had put on great airs after a spin in one with Joe. Jenny was girl enough
to like to have her little adventures to boast of, and that day she was to have
another which eclipsed all that her young companions ever knew.

 
          
           
A brisk drive, a cosy lunch at a famous chop-house where Johnson had drunk
oceans of tea, was followed by a stroll in the Park; for the Professor liked
his young comrade, and was grateful for the well-written notes which helped on
his work.

 
          
           
As they leaned against the railing to watch the splendid equipages roll by, one
that seemed well known, though only conspicuous by its quiet elegance, stopped
near them, and the elder of the two ladies in it bowed and beckoned to
Professor Homer. He hastened forward to be kindly greeted and invited to drive
along the Ladies' Mile. Jenny's breath was nearly taken away when she was
presented to the Duchess of S—, and found herself sitting in a luxurious
carriage opposite her Grace and her companion, with a white-wigged coachman
perched aloft and two powdered footmen erect behind. Secretly rejoicing that
she had made herself especially nice for her trip with the Professor, and
remembering that young English girls are expected to efface themselves in the
company of their elders, she sat mute and modest, stealing shy glances from
under her hat-brim at the great lady, who was talking in the simplest way with
her guest about his work, in which, as a member of one of the historical houses
of England, she took much interest. A few gracious words fell to Jenny's share
before they were set down at the door of the hotel, to the great admiration of
the porter, who recognized the liveries and spread the news.

 
          
           
"This is a good sample of the way things go in Vanity Fair. We trudge away
to our daily work afoot, we treat ourselves to a humble cab through the mud,
pause in the park to watch the rich and great, get whisked into a ducal
carriage, and come home in state, feeling rather exalted, don't we?" asked
the Professor as they went upstairs, and he observed the new air of dignity
which Jane unconsciously assumed as an obsequious waiter flew before to open
the door.

 
          
           
"I think we do," answered honest Jane, laughing as she caught the
twinkle of his eyes behind the spectacles. "I like splendor, and I AM
rather set up to think I've spoken to a live duchess; but I think I like her
beautiful old face and charming manners more than her fine coach or great name.
Why, she was much more simply dressed than Mrs. Sibley, and talked as
pleasantly as if she did not feel a bit above us. Yet one couldn't forget that
she was noble, and lived in a very different world from ours."

 
          
           
"That is just it, my dear; she IS a noble woman in every sense of the
word, and has a right to her title. Her ancestors were kingmakers, and she is
Lady-in-waiting to the Queen; yet she leads the charities of
London
,
and is the friend of all who help the world along. I'm glad you have met her,
and seen so good a sample of a true aristocrat. We Americans affect to scorn
titles, but too many of us hanker for them in secret, and bow before very poor
imitations of the real thing. Don't fill your journal with fine names, as some
much wiser folk do, but set down only the best, and remember, 'All that
glitters is not gold.'"

 
          
           
"I will, sir." And Jenny put away the little sermon side by side with
the little adventure, saying nothing of either till Mrs. Homer spoke of it,
having heard the story from her husband.

 
          
           
"How I wish I'd been there, instead of fagging round that great palace
full of rubbish! A real Duchess! Won't the Sibleys stare? We shall hear no more
of Lady Watts Barclay after this, I guess, and you will be treated with great
respect; see if you are not!" said Ethel, much impressed with her
companion's good fortune and eager to tell it.

 
          
           
"If things of that sort affect them, their respect is not worth
having," answered Jane, quietly accepting the arm Ethel offered her as
they went to dinner,—a very unusual courtesy, the cause of which she understood
and smiled at.

 
          
           
Ethel looked as if she felt the reproof, but said nothing, only set an example
of greater civility to her companion, which the other girls involuntarily
followed, after they had heard of Jenny's excursion with the Professor.

 
          
           
The change was very grateful to patient Jane, who had borne many small slights
in proud silence; but it was soon over, for the parties separated, and our
friends left the city far behind them, as they crossed the channel, and sailed
up the Rhine to Schwalbach, where Mrs. Homer was to try the steel springs for
her rheumatism while the Professor rested after his London labors.

 
          
           
A charming journey, and several very happy weeks followed as the girls roamed
about the Little Brunnen, gay with people from all parts of Europe, come to try
the famous mineral waters, and rest under the lindens.

 
          
           
Jenny found plenty to sketch here, and was busy all day booking picturesque
groups as they sat in the Allee Saal, doing pretty woodland bits as they
strolled among the hills, carefully copying the arches and statues in St.
Elizabeth's Chapel, or the queer old houses in the Jews' Quarter of the town.
Even the pigs went into the
portfolio,
with the little
swineherd blowing his horn in the morning to summon each lazy porker from its
sty to join the troop that trotted away to eat acorns in the oak wood on the
hill till sunset called them home again.

 
          
           
Ethel's chief amusement was buying trinkets at the booths near the
Stahlbrunnen. A tempting display of pretty crystal, agate, and steel jewelry
was there, with French bonbons, Swiss carvings, German embroidery and
lace-work, and most delectable little portfolios of views of fine scenery or
illustrations of famous books. Ethel spent much money here, and added so
greatly to her store of souvenirs that a new trunk was needed to hold the
brittle treasures she accumulated in spite of the advice given her to wait till
she reached
Paris
, where all could
be bought much cheaper and packed safely for transportation.

 
          
           
Jenny contented herself with a German book, Kaulbach's Goethe Gallery, and a
set of ornaments for each sister; the purple, pink, and white crystals being
cheap and pretty trinkets for young girls. She felt very rich with her generous
salary to draw upon when she liked; but having made a list of proper
gifts,
she resisted temptation and saved her money,
remembering how much every penny was needed at home.

 
          
           
Driving from the ruins of Hohenstein one lovely afternoon, the girls got out to
walk up a long hill, and amused themselves gathering flowers by the way. When
they took their places again, Ethel had a great bouquet of scarlet poppies,
Jenny a nosegay of blue corn-flowers for Mrs. Homer, and a handful of green
wheat for herself.

 
          
           
"You look as if you had been gleaning," said the Professor, as he
watched the girls begin to trim their rough straw hats with the gay coquelicots
and the bearded ears.

 
          
           
"I feel as if I were doing that every day, sir, and gathering in a great
harvest of pleasure, if nothing else," answered Jenny, turning her bright
eyes full of gratitude from one kind face to the other.

 
          
           
"My poppies are much prettier than that stiff stuff. Why didn't you get
some?" asked Ethel, surveying her brilliant decoration with great
satisfaction.

 
          
           
"They don't last; but my wheat will, and only grow prettier as it ripens
in my hat," answered Jenny, contentedly settling the graceful spires in
the straw cord that bound the pointed crown.

 
          
           
"Then the kernels will all drop out and leave the husks; that won't be
nice, I'm sure," laughed Ethel.

 
          
           
"Well, some hungry bird will pick them up and be glad of them. The husks
will last a long time and remind me of this happy day; your poppies are
shedding their leaves already, and the odor is not pleasant. I like my honest
breadmaking wheat better than your opium flowers," said Jenny, with her
thoughtful smile, as she watched the scarlet petals float away leaving the
green seed-vessels bare.

 
          
           
"Oh, I shall get some artificial ones at my little milliner's, and be fine
as long as I like; so you are welcome to your useful, bristly old wheat,"
said Ethel, rather nettled by the look that passed between the elders.

 
          
           
Nothing more was said; but both girls remembered that little talk long
afterward, for those two wayside nosegays served to point the moral of this
little tale, if not to adorn it.

 
          
           
We have no space to tell all the pleasant wanderings of our travellers as they
went from one interesting place to another, till they paused for a good rest at
Geneva
.

 
          
           
Here Ethel quite lost her head among the glittering display of jewelry, and had
to be watched lest she rashly spend her last penny. They were obliged almost
forcibly to carry her out of the enchanting shops; and no one felt safe till
she was either on the lake, or driving to Chamouni, or asleep in her bed.

 
          
           
Jenny bought a watch, a very necessary thing for a teacher, and this was the
best place to get a good one. It was chosen with care and much serious
consultation with the Professor; and Mrs. Homer added a little chain and seal,
finding Jenny about to content herself with a black cord.

 
          
           
"It is only a return for many daughterly services, my dear; and my husband
wishes me to offer these with thanks to the patient secretary who has often
helped him so willingly," she said, as she came to wake Jenny with a kiss
on the morning of her twenty-first birthday.

 
          
           
A set of little volumes like those she had admired was the second gift, and
Jenny was much touched to be so kindly remembered. Ethel gave her some thread
lace which she had longed to buy for her mother at
Brussels
,
but did not, finding it as costly as beautiful. It was a very happy day, though
quietly spent sitting by the lake enjoying the well-chosen extracts from Shakspeare,
Wordsworth, Byron, Burns, Scott, and other descriptive poets, and writing
loving letters home, proudly stamped with the little seal.

 
          
           
After that, while Ethel haunted the brilliant shops, read novels in the
hotel-garden, or listlessly followed the sight-seers, Jenny, with the help of
her valuable little library, her industrious pencil, and her accomplished
guides, laid up a store of precious souvenirs as they visited the celebrated
spots that lie like a necklace of pearls around the lovely lake, with Mont
Blanc as the splendid opal that fitly clasps the chain. Calvin and Geneva,
Voltaire and Ferney, De Stael and Coppet, Gibbon's garden at Lausanne, Byron's
Prisoner at Chillon, Rousseau's chestnut grove at Clarens, and all the legends,
relics, and memories of Switzerland's heroes, romancers, poets, and
philosophers, were carefully studied, recorded, and enjoyed; and when at last
they steamed away toward Paris, Jenny felt as if her head and her heart and one
little trunk held richer treasures than all the jewelry in Geneva.

 
          
           
At
Lyons
her second important
purchase was made; for when they visited one of the great manufactories to
execute several commissions given to Mrs. Homer, Jenny proudly bought a nice
black silk for her mother. This, with the delicate lace, would make the dear
woman presentable for many a day, and the good girl beamed with satisfaction as
she pictured the delight of all at home when this splendid gift appeared to
adorn the dear parent-bird, who never cared how shabby she was if her young
were well feathered.

 
          
           
It was a trial to Jenny, when they reached Paris, to spend day after day
shopping, talking to dressmakers, and driving in the Bois to watch the elegant
world on parade, when she longed to be living through the French Revolution
with Carlyle, copying the quaint relics at Hotel Cluny, or revelling in the
treasures of the Louvre.