The abbe did not reply at once; he scratched his nose thoughtfully.

"Until they get to know one another, it is perhaps somewhat stiff. But with intellectual people this stiffness must soon disappear, and each one will do something to keep the ball rolling. You have an excellent delivery; I noticed it the night of your lecture. You could easily find a subject on which to lecture which would interest your listeners by its novelty, surprise them by its profundity, and amuse them by its variety; their intellect and their imagination would be equally engaged."

It was Ivan's turn to laugh, which he did loudly. "My excellent sir, such a subject is unknown to me. I confess my ignorance; neither in print nor in ma.n.u.script have I met with it."

The clergyman joined in the laugh.

At this moment a servant brought Ivan a despatch, which claimed instant attention, so that the receipt might be given to the messenger who waited for it. Ivan begged his guest to excuse him if he opened this urgent doc.u.ment. The abbe, with a wave of his hand, requested him not to mind his presence.

As Ivan read the letter a remarkable change pa.s.sed over his face; he grew suddenly pale, his eyebrows contracted, then a sudden rush of color came into his cheeks. He held the letter before him, read it several times, while his eyes had a wild stare, as if he had seen a ghost. Then all at once he fell to laughing. He thrust the letter into his pocket, and returned to the subject he had been discussing.

"Yes, yes," he said, "I shall go to Countess Theudelinde's _soiree_, and I shall give a lecture before her guests such as they have never heard the equal; that I promise you. Science and poetry, imagination and learning mixed together, with dates and genealogy, so that the _savants_ present will not know what to think; I shall give a lecture which will make every geologist a prince, and every princess a geologist. Do you follow me?"

"Perfectly," returned the other; not, indeed, that he saw what Ivan meant, but that he wished to encourage him. "That will be the very thing--first-rate!"

"What do you say to ill.u.s.trations by means of an electric-magnetic machine, eh?"

"A capital idea, and amusing. My dear friend, you will have a _succes_."

"May I ask you to convey to the countess my acceptance of her invitation? I shall require a large apparatus."

"I can a.s.sure you in advance that the countess will be charmed at your kind offer. As for the apparatus and arrangement, leave that to her, she will be overjoyed when she hears that she is to expect you."

The abbe then took his leave, fully contented with his visit. Ivan again read his letter, and again sat staring into s.p.a.ce, as if a ghost had appeared to him.

People said the Countess Theudelinde's _Soirees Amalgamantes_ would certainly make history. The mixture was excellent: grandees jostled elbows with poets; academicians with prelates; musicians, painters, sculptors, actors, critics, professors, physicians, editors, sportsmen, and politicians of all shades gathered under one roof. It was a bold experiment, a brilliant society _in thesi_. Neither was there wanting the element of female attraction; all that Pesth held of beauty, charm, and grace lent its aid to the scheme of amalgamation.

Count Stefan, a cousin of Countess Theudelinde, was a great help to her _soirees_, for he was a well-informed and cultivated young man, able to talk on all subjects, and especially on the poetry of the world. As for the Countess Angela, she was a cla.s.sic beauty; her grandfather was a political celebrity--a great man, who had a surrounding of all kinds, bad and good. It was therefore quite in keeping, according to the usages of society, that when an unfortunate outsider was presented to Countess Angela, he should, after the third word or so, make mention of her ill.u.s.trious grandfather, Prince Theobald of Bondavara, and inquire after his health. After this question, however, the Countess Angela never addressed the stranger another word. She allowed him to speak, if he so wished, and to retire in some confusion. Even the most dried-up specimen of university learning felt aggrieved. His heart could not resist the first glance of those heavenly eyes, so sweet and friendly, now so cold and haughty. And yet what had he done? The poor man will probably never know; he is not in the inner circle.

Countess Angela was indeed a perfect ideal beauty; this cannot be too often repeated. A pure, n.o.ble face, with cla.s.sical, well-proportioned features, nose and lips finely cut, long, straight eyebrows and lashes, which veiled the eyes of a G.o.ddess. When these eyes glowed, or when they were half-closed under their downy lids, they looked black, but when they laughed at you, you would swear they were blue. Her hair was rich, of that most lovely of all shades, chestnut brown; her whole countenance betrayed that she knew herself to be charming, that she was aware that she was the centre, at all times, of admiration, and that such knowledge pleased her well. And why not? A woman must be very silly not to be aware that beauty is a gift and a power.

But what was the reason of her cold looks at the mention of her grandfather's name? Just what one might expect from a woman with her face. All the world--that is, her world--knew that she and her grandfather, Prince Theobald of Bondavara, were at daggers drawn. The wily old politician had given his only and beautiful granddaughter to a German, Prince Sondersheim. She was to consolidate some political matter, only she didn't see it in that light, and refused to ratify the bargain, not caring for Sondersheim; and, for the matter of that, neither did he care for her. But, then, it didn't mean so much to him.

Angela had her ideal of married life, however, and so she quarrelled with her grandfather because he pooh-poohed her ideals and called them romantic folly. Upon this she vowed she would never speak to him again, and he, being angry, told her to leave his house, which she did at once, and came to her Aunt Theudelinde, who had just set up at Pesth, and was glad to have so bright and beautiful a niece. Since then she had refused all communication with her grandfather. This was the reason that she would not even hear his name mentioned; and it never was, except by ignorant outsiders, or "know-nothings," as the Yankees call them.

The Abbe Samuel had wit enough to see that the _Soirees Amalgamantes_ were not the success they should be. Conversation did not suffice; amalgamation was at a standstill. The young girls sat in one room, the married women in another; the men herded together, looking glum, but not so bored as the women. Then the abbe, considering what ought to be done, had a happy idea. He introduced dramatic representations, dramatic readings, concerts, which were a decided success. Soon conversation became lively, strangers got to know one another; when they rehea.r.s.ed together duets and little pieces their stiffness wore off. The women seemed different in morning dress, free from the restraints of the grand toilette; they grew quite friendly, and later on they found a subject upon which they discoursed quite at their ease. It must be confessed, however, that after midnight, when the readings, the concert, or the representation was over, and the outsiders had gone home to their beds, society began to enjoy itself.

The young people danced, the old played whist or tarok, and they stayed till daybreak. They would have done the same had the scientists, the poets, the artists remained; they didn't want them to leave, but, naturally, these people felt themselves out of it, and, besides, they could not sit up all night like the others, so they went home very properly; they knew their place.

The Abbe Samuel understood how to manage matters. Whenever the countess was to have a particularly good evening he took care it should get talked about, and the names of the performers, their parentage and history, together with any interesting circ.u.mstance, true or false, should be subjects of conversation for days before. In this way he sent about Ivan Behrend's name with a great many details as to his interesting life in the mines, his extraordinary cleverness, and the wonderful lecture he was going to give at the countess's next _soiree_.

The abbe knew his world, and how to whet its curiosity by exaggerated reports.

"Is it true that, for one experiment only, he burned a brilliant belonging to Countess Theudelinde which was worth eight hundred gulden?"

"The stone weighed four carats, and was worth fifteen hundred pounds."

"We must give him a good reception. See, here he comes, escorted by Abbe Samuel!"

The gentleman who had just spoken, and who was the Countess Angela's cousin, was Count Edmund, a handsome young man of about twenty-two years of age. He hastened to meet Ivan and the abbe as they entered the door, and introduced himself as nephew to the lady of the house.

He took Ivan by the arm in the most friendly manner, and led him to Count Stefan, uncle to the countess. The count was a man of intelligence and reading; he a.s.sured Ivan there were those in the room who were much interested to hear his lecture. After this he was presented by his new friend to several distinguished-looking persons with decorations, who all pressed his hand, and spoke in the most friendly manner. The beginning of the evening was the most agreeable portion. The abbe and Ivan finally made their way into the next room, where the ladies were a.s.sembled, and here they found the Countess Theudelinde, who received them, and especially Ivan, most graciously.

The young man, Count Edmund, again took possession of him, and, laughing and talking, led him up to the Countess Angela, to whom he was introduced with a great flourish. Before this lovely vision Ivan bowed, feeling somewhat stunned, yet not shy or awkward.

"You come very seldom to Pesth," said the young countess, with a rea.s.suring smile.

"It is some time since I have been here; but I understand this is your first visit, countess. You have never lived in Pesth?"

Angela's face a.s.sumed its cold expression; she felt sure he was going to inquire for Prince Theobald.

"I do not see," she said, in a sarcastic voice, "what it is to any one whether I have ever been in Pesth."

"It is not an uncommon accident," returned Ivan, quietly, "that a man visits a place where he has never been before; but when many people meet in the same spot, it looks as if there was something more than accident in such a gathering; and in this instance, where so many brilliant personages are brought together, it seems as if Providence had more to do with it than mere chance."

At these words Angela's face cleared. "Then you believe in Providence?

you acknowledge there is such a thing as Divine ordinance?"

"Undoubtedly, I do believe."

"Then we shall be friends." She turned away as she spoke, and Ivan took this movement as a signal to retire.

After a quarter of an hour's further waiting, Edmund came to tell him that everything was in readiness in the lecture-room, and the company had already gathered there in considerable numbers. Ivan, therefore, ascended the stage, which had been erected at the farther end of the large room, and, holding his papers in his hand, addressed his audience. He had a pleasant voice, his manner of address was perfectly unaffected, composed, and taking. From the first moment he held the attention of the audience--his subject was _Magnetism_.

CHAPTER XII

RITTER MAGNET

When the lecture had concluded the lamps were carried out of the room, and only the candles in the l.u.s.tre were left lighted. Ivan then exhibited to the astonished spectators the electric light. Many of them had never seen such a clear, beautiful light as this ball of virgin-like purity. It looked like one of the heavenly planets, as if Venus had descended from her place in the firmament and was shining on the company. The candles in the l.u.s.tre burned blue, and threw shadows on the wall. Every face lost all trace of color from the effect of this strange illumination; people whispered to one another, almost frightened. Ivan, standing upon the platform, looked like some magician of old, his features chiselled like a statue, his eyes in deep shadow; and what added considerably to the picturesque effect, and heightened the charm of this n.o.ble a.s.sembly, was the strange coloring given by the light to the splendid national costume worn by the company, and the enamelled appearance of the jewels on the ladies'

necks and arms.

The eyes of every one were directed to two persons, while an involuntary "Ah!" was whispered about at the extraordinary transformation produced in their appearance. One was Countess Angela.

The light seemed to have taken from her face that pride and self-satisfaction which, although natural in one so beautiful, gave an earthly expression to her face, and somewhat marred its beauty. Now she looked a heavenly vision, with the expression of a glorified spirit who had done with earth and had soared upward to her true home in heaven; all earthly pa.s.sions, joy, sorrow, love, and pride, had vanished. Such was the miraculous effect of the magic light. The other transformation was in Countess Theudelinde. She was seated in an armchair, raised upon a sort of divan. The magic light touched her face gently, and gave it a fairy-like expression; the n.o.ble features were spiritualized, her naturally pale coloring became transparent, the brilliants in her magnificent tiara sparkled over her forehead as a garland of stars; she was sublime, and for five minutes the most beautiful among the beautiful. It was, nevertheless, many a long year since her mirror had told her she was beautiful. This, too, was the miraculous effect of the magic light. Round the hall there were large pier-gla.s.ses set into the wainscot, which reflected every one of the company. Theudelinde, therefore, could see herself beautified. She sighed as she thought, "I look like Queen Mab."

Suddenly the miraculous light went out, and the room, lit only by the candles, seemed in total darkness. "Ah!" in sorrowful tones was echoed through the a.s.sembly; people rubbed their eyes and recognized the familiar faces again. Alas! it was over too soon. There were no more angels, fairies, queens, or heroes; only a group of excellent every-day people, counts and countesses. The face of Angela again wore its proud, vain expression, and Theudelinde was once more stiff and ill-tempered.

Ivan now descended from his platform, and received the congratulations and compliments due to his efforts. There were different opinions, of course, but they were private. Every one joined in praising the lecturer to himself.

Ivan thanked every one for their approval, but with a coldly reticent manner, and soon disengaged himself from his admirers to go in search of his hostess; he wished to thank her for her kindness.

Theudelinde received him with smiles. Countess Angela was with her, leaning on the back of her aunt's chair. The young girl had just said:

"You looked, auntie, quite lovely--a perfect Queen Mab."

The smile these words had called to Theudelinde's face still lingered round her lips when Ivan presented himself. For these five minutes of beauty she was indebted to this man, and was not ungrateful. She gave him her hand, and thanked him in the most gracious manner for the enjoyment he had given her.

"I owe you something," returned Ivan. "When you honored my house with a visit, you gave me a diamond which you allowed me to burn before your eyes. I now in return for your goodness on that occasion give you this diamond, which was created before your eyes." With these words he handed her a piece of carbon, which he had taken from the voltaic pillar. "As I explained to you in my lecture, coal can be changed by electricity into a diamond, and in this condition can cut gla.s.s."