Ernest Maltravers — Volume 07Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
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Ernest Maltravers — Volume 07
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century
"No; what I said was an apology for myself, as well as for you. You
need no words to vindicate you; you are a man, and can bear out all
arrogance with the royal motto /Dieu et mon droit/. With you deeds can
support pretension; but I am a woman--it was a mistake of Nature."
"But what triumphs that man can achieve bring so immediate, so palpable
a reward as those won by a woman, beautiful and admired--who finds every
room an empire, and every class her subjects?"
"It is a despicable realm."
"What!--to command--to win--to bow to your worship--the greatest, and
the highest, and the sternest; to own slaves in those whom men recognise
as their lords! Is such a power despicable? If so, what power is to be
envied?"
Lady Florence turned quickly round to Maltravers, and fixed on him her
large dark eyes, as if she would read into his very heart. She turned
away with a blush and a slight frown--"There is mockery on your lip,"
said she.
Before Maltravers could answer, dinner was announced, and a foreign
ambassador claimed the hand of Lady Florence. Maltravers saw a young
lady with gold oats in her very light hair, fall to his lot, and
descended to the dining-room, thinking more of Lady Florence Lascelles
than he had ever done before.
He happened to sit nearly opposite to the young mistress of the house
(Lord Saxingham, as the reader knows, was a widower and Lady Florence an
only child); and Maltravers was that day in one of those felicitous
moods in which our animal spirits search and carry up, as it were, to
the surface, our intellectual gifts and acquisitions. He conversed
generally and happily; but once, when he turned his eyes to appeal to
Lady Florence for her opinion on some point in discussion, he caught her
gaze fixed upon him with an expression that checked the current of his
gaiety, and cast him into a curious and bewildered reverie. In that
gaze there was earnest and cordial admiration; but it was mixed with so
much mournfulness, that the admiration lost its eloquence, and he who
noticed it was rather saddened than flattered.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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