A Strange Story — Volume 02Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
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A Strange Story — Volume 02
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century
"No, only an admirer. I was staying at Fenton's Hotel. It so happened
one day that I had left in the coffee-room your last work on the Vital
Principle, which, by the by, the bookseller assures me is selling
immensely among readers as non-professional as myself. Coming into the
coffee-room again, I found a gentleman reading the book. I claimed it
politely; he as politely tendered his excuse for taking it. We made
acquaintance on the spot. The next day we were intimate. He expressed
great interest and curiosity about your theory and your experiments. I
told him I knew you. You may guess if I described you as less clever in
your practice than you are in your writings; and, in short, he came with
me to L----, partly to see our flourishing town, principally on my promise
to introduce him to you. My mother, you know, has what she calls a
dejeuner tomorrow,--dejeuner and dance. You will be there?"
"Thank you for reminding me of her invitation. I will avail myself of it
if I can. Your new friend will be present? Who and what is he,--a
medical student?"
"No, a mere gentleman at ease, but seems to have a good deal of general
information. Very young, apparently very rich, wonderfully good-looking.
I am sure you will like him; everybody must."
"It is quite enough to prepare me to like him that he is a friend of
yours." And so we shook hands and parted.
[1] Mrs. Poyntz here makes a mistake in law which, though very evident,
her listeners do not seem to have noticed. Her mistake will be referred
to later.
CHAPTER XXIII.
It was late in the afternoon of the following day before I was able to
join the party assembled at the merchant's house; it was a villa about two
miles out of the town, pleasantly situated amidst flower-gardens
celebrated in the neighbourhood for their beauty. The breakfast had been
long over; the company was scattered over the lawn,--some formed into a
dance on the smooth lawn; some seated under shady awnings; others gliding
amidst parterres, in which all the glow of colour took a glory yet more
vivid under the flush of a brilliant sunshine; and the ripple of a soft
western breeze. Music, loud and lively, mingled with the laughter of
happy children, who formed much the larger number of the party.
Standing at the entrance of an arched trellis, that led from the hardier
flowers of the lawn to a rare collection of tropical plants under a lofty
glass dome (connecting, as it were, the familiar vegetation of the North
with that of the remotest East), was a form that instantaneously caught
and fixed my gaze. The entrance of the arcade was covered with parasite
creepers, in prodigal luxuriance, of variegated gorgeous tints,--scarlet,
golden, purple; and the form, an idealized picture of man's youth fresh
from the hand of Nature, stood literally in a frame of blooms.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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