Puck — October 2, 1878 — page 12: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

12 ‘The su pena an immense success. So far from the Shah being particular in his food, he ate of everything. But the sherbet which had been provided for him did not seem to his taste. “What can we do?” whispered the Baroness, in great distress. “Hush! put some brandy in it,” said Jack. “Brandy! Why, 1 thought all spirituous drinks were contrary to his religion.” “Of course they are: that’s why he likes them. Put lots of brandy in it.” The Shah drank ¢his sherbet like a fish. As the temporal head of the Persian Church, he abstained, however, from the champagne, which his two attendants partook of from large goblets, The ball was proceeding by this time with great vigor, and everything going on propi- tiously. “Would his Imperial Majesty like a turn in the garden?” inquired the Baroness, willing that her guest should show himself to those who were unable to penetrate the crowd in the banqueting hall. Jack repeated the invitation, but the Shah shook his twinkling fez. “He knows what's good for him, and I don’t think the open air would quite suit him, Baron- ess. He has had too much b. and s.—brandy and sherbet. He starts to-night for Teheran, and the sooner I can get him off, the better.” The Baroness looked at her illustrious visitor with an admiration even greater than before. Her mind reverted to his august ancestor in the ‘Arabian Nights,” who was wont to make his journeys through the air upon an enchanted carpet. It did not seem to her that he was likely to go Teheran that night by any other means of progression, and yet the air would be certain to disagree with him. “There are some chibouks, Mr. Delayne,” she whispered; ‘if ycu think—” «Not for worlds,” answered the interpreter hastily. “Get a cup of very strong coffee; then make the band strike up the ‘* Rogue's March,” or anything—and I'll get him away.” ‘The coffee was brought. The Shah looked at it for a moment with grave displeasure, as if he detected chicory in it, or a drowning fly, and then kicked it out of the attendant’s hand. Fortunately at that instant the band struck up awild and piercing Eastern air, and, assisted —indeed, compelled —by the arm of his flying interpreter, his Imperial Majesty rose from his divan and proceeded diagonally, and now and then with an unexpected movement at right angles, like the knight at chess, towards the en- trance hall, The Baron hastened forward to escort him, but his politeness had nearly cost him dear, for the Eastern potentate, mistaking the object of his haste, and ever on the watch for treachery, shalf drew his sabre, and yelled something in the Persian tongue which sounded uncommonly like an execration, Jack hurried him through the hall, closely followed by his two prime ministers, or whatever they were, and at the door found the royal carriage in waiting, which whirled him off to the palace. Everybody said that nothing had been more characteristic of the illustrious visitor, more redolent of Eastern customs, than the mode of his departure, His breaking the coffee-cup to symbolize how his heart was torn at having to bid adieu to his host, his half drawing his ya- taghan, as though his despair at parting would have almost led him to cut short his own illus- trious existence, and his manifest reluctance to leave the house, were the themes of univer- sal admiration. If a King can do no wrong, a Shah is in a still more unassailable position; and it is my belief that, if he had cut the Baron’s head off; it would have been set down to his Majesty’s geniality and condescension. Everybody who had caught a glimpse of the Shah that evening was dazzled and delighted. The Duchess of Doldrum publicly acknow- ledged to her hostess that she had spent a de- lightful evening, and the Baroness ‘was over- whelmed with congratulations and invitations from “the best people” in Mayfair. ‘That very morning, ere the midday beams began to stream into the deserted ball-room, and when the mistress of Evelyn Lodge was still sunk in dreams of greatness, Cyril Clarke was married by special license, in a neighbor- ing church, to Myra Patterini. The consent of both her parents, as we know, had been obtained, and had set her scruples quite at ease, and Cyril —who, unlike his father- in-law, was averse to speculation or risks of any kind—had thought it better to settle the mat- ter. He had been kept “hanging on and off” so long that he dreaded any more delays. When the Baron and Baroness came down to their dejeuner a la fourchetle, they found it was a marriage breakfast, and there was no- thing for it but to congratulate the bride and bridegroom. “After the magnificent event of yesterday, Cyril, you might have taken my approbation for granted,” was the only reproof that fell from his mother-in-law’s lips. “My dear Baroness, I did ta said Cyril naively. The Baron even went so far as to compli- ment him upon his sagacity. “You are a deuced sight” (he was certainly not a real no- bleman) “cleverer fellow than I took you to be,” was his very expression; nor did his en- couragement end in words, for he gave hima check for his daughter's dowry upon the spot. He was not pleased with what had happened, but he was a man who never cried over spilt milk; when he made a bad debt he wiped it off his books, and thought no more about it— nay, he never even spoke ill of his debtor. ‘There was still another surprise awaiting the Baroness that morning when she came to look at the newspapers. In most of them the fele of the previous night was described in the most glowing colors, and the house of Patterini complimented in the highest terms upon the honor that had been conferred upon it; but one or two had not a word about the matter. ‘They described the movements of the Shah in other directions, and announced his departure for that morning, but not a syllable did they print about his visit to Evelyn Lodge. ‘Those representatives of the press who had not taken advantage of the Baroness’s invitations to her ball had quietly ignored it altogether. ‘They had been asked, of course; the Baroness had been careful to ask them all; but some malign influences had been at work even upon an in- corruptible press, and her politeness iad been thrown away. The force of spite and envy on the part of certain people—people who pro- nounced their p's like 4’s, but who had influ- ence with the “babers"—could not further go, as the little party all agreed, Still, as the judge observed in the famous murder case, the testimony of ten witnesses called to prove that they did not see the crime committed was a small thing when weighed against the testimony of one who did see it. And not only had eight hundred persons of fashion seen the Shah at Evelyn Lodge, but the representatives of a dozen newspapers. This latter fact became afterwards of great importance, for, incredible as it may seem, no sooner had his Imperial Majesty left England —i.¢, that very afternoon—and been thereby prevented from contradicting the ridiculous statement in person, than a rumor got afloat that he had never been at the Patterini ball at all! The conflict of evidence was very curious. Eight hundred persons of fashion péus twelve newspaper reporters on one side, and all the it for granted,” people of fashion who had not been able to obtain invitations and all the newspapers minus. twelve upon the other. Immense influence—I am serry to say, even that of the Lord Cham- berlain himself—was thrown into tlte latter scale; but people who had met the Shah of Persia at supper were not likely to be brow- beaten out of “taf fact, and the twelve news- papers, of course, stuck to their guns. No- body ever heard of a newspaper acknowledg- ing itself in the wrong, except under pressure of an action for libel, and the action (and the idea of bringing one was at one time seriously debate at Evelyn Lodge) would have been instituted in this case, if at all, by the other side. Cyril persuaded the Baroness, with difficulty, to treat the scandal with the contempt it de- served, and so the matter rested. ‘The divan on which the Shah had sat in sol- itary state—the Persian Lone, as Jack had called him—and the chibouk which he would have smoked had he not taken so much brandy with his sherbet, were preserved with reverent care, and shown to particular friends as a spe- cial favor for long afterwards. Only two things, as it seems to me, gave any color to the ridiculous and malicious rumor to which I have alluded. ‘The one was Jack De- layne's sudden retirement from the Foreign Of- fice, in consequence, it was stated, of some tral ession in connection with his Imperial Majesty’s visit, but which might, of course, have been for any other reason, for there were plenty, ‘he othe: was even ‘a still slighter ground for the scandal: it was only tne fact that among the numerous members of the household of Cyril Clarke, Msq., was to be seen an Eastern retainer, said to have been the Persian crossing sweeper in Regent Street, who uisappeared at the very date of the great event I been de: ig —the ball at the Pat- This was in all probability a mere coincidence; and what it could possibly have to do with the Shah of Persia's visit to Lodge I leave the reader to judge. Cyril proved an excellent son-in-law; and again and ayain I have heard the Baron Patterini remark that he was “a deuced sight” &c., &c.; in fact, he had the very highest opinion of his sagacity. He used to have rows with his mother-in-law— who has not? But with regard to the Shah of Persia, not a word ever passed between them. As to Myra, if anything was wrong about that Imperial visit (and far be it from me to hint there was), it is certain that she knew all about it from the moment that telegram came for Cyril, when he assured her that “the man” would come, and offered to “lay his life that her dear mother should not be disappointed.” Mr. Sankey is holding the pianoforte in England.— Buffalo Express. In’s a wicked world, Even the Gulf Stream has gone astray.--//arfford Post. ApouT 367 newspapers will remark that the Afghanistan trouble is Ameer trifle.— Phila. Bulletin, “Go West, young man.” Twelve thousand young ladies are school-teaching in Iowa.— Phila, Kronikle-Herald, comicbooks.com