But
when, in unexceptionable toilet, I stood on Mme. de St. Cyr's steps,
my heart sunk. G. was doubtless already within, and I thought of the
_marchand des armures'_ exclamation, "Queen of Heaven, Monsieur! how
shall I meet him!" I was plunged at once into the profoundest gloom.
Why had I undertaken the business at all? This interference, this
good-humor, this readiness to oblige,--it would ruin me yet! I forswore
it, as Falstaff forswore honor. Why needed I to meddle in the _melee?_
Why--But I was no catechumen. Questions were useless now. My emotions
are not chronicled on my face, I flatter myself; and with my usual
repose I saluted our hostess. Greeting G. without any allusion to
the diamond, the absence of which allusion he received as a point of
etiquette, I was conversing with Mrs. Leigh, when the Baron Stahl was
announced. I turned to look at his Excellency. A glance electrified me.
There was my dark-browed man of the midnight streets. It must, then,
have been concerning the diamond that I had heard him speak. His
countenance, his eager, glittering eye, told that today was as eventful
to him as to me. If he were here, I could well afford to be. As he
addressed me in English, my certainty was confirmed; and the instant
in which I observed the ring, gaudy and coarse, upon his finger, made
confirmation doubly sure. I own I was surprised that anything could
induce the Baron to wear such an ornament. Here he was actually risking
his reputation as a man of taste, as an exquisite, a leader of _haut
ton_, a gentleman, by the detestable vulgarity of this ring.
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