Джозеф Конрад - Suspense

The marquis lowered his head slowly. “No, not yet.”

“Well, the Emperor said to him: ‘You have come here to look at a wild beast’; and Mr. Wycherley, who doesn’t seem to be at a loss for words, answered at once: ‘I have come here to look at a great man.’ What a crude answer! He is telling this story to everybody. He told me he is going to publish a pamphlet about his visit.”

“Mr. Wycherley is a man of good company. His answer was polite. What would have been yours, my young friend?”

“I don’t think I will ever be called to make any sort of answer to the great man,” said Cosmo.

The marquis got up with the words: “I think that on the whole you will be wise not to waste your time. I have here a letter from the French Consul in Leghorn quoting the latest report he had from Elba. It states that Bonaparte remains shut up for days together in his private apartments. The reason given is that he fears attempts on his life being made by emissaries sent from France and Italy. He is not visible. Another report states that lately he has expressed great uneasiness at the movements of the French and English frigates.”

The marquis laid a friendly hand on Cosmo’s shoulder. “You cannot complain of me; I have given you the very latest intelligence. And now let us join whatever company my daughter is receiving. I think very few people.” He crossed the room followed by Cosmo, and Cosmo noticed a distinct lameness in his gait. At the moment of opening the door the Marquis d’Armand said:

“Your arm, mon jeune ami ; I am suffering from rheumatism considerably this evening.”

Cosmo hastened to offer his arm, and the marquis with his hand on the door said:

“I can hardly walk. I hope I shall be able to go to the audience I have to–morrow with the King of Sardinia. He is an excellent man, but all his ideas and feelings came to a standstill in ’98. It makes all conversation with him extremely difficult even for me. His ministers are more reasonable, but that is only because they are afraid.”

A low groan escaped the ambassador. He remained leaning with one hand on Cosmo’s shoulder, and with the other clinging to the door–handle.

“Afraid of the people?” asked Cosmo.

“The people are being corrupted by secret societies,” the marquis said in his bland tone. “All Italy is seething with conspiracies. What, however, they are most afraid of is the Man of Elba.”

Cosmo for an instant wondered at those confidences, but a swift reflection that probably those things were known to everybody who was anybody in Europe made him think that this familiar talk was merely the effect of the marquis’s kindness to the son of his old friend. “I think I can proceed now,” said the marquis, pushing the door open. Cosmo recognised one of the rooms which he had passed in the morning. It was the only one of the suite which was fully lighted by a great central glass chandelier, but even in that only two rows of candles were lighted. It was a small reception. The rest of the suite presented but a dim perspective. A semicircle of heavy arm–chairs was sparsely occupied by less than a dozen ladies. There was only one card–table in use. All the faces were turned to the opening door, and Cosmo was struck by the expression of profound surprise on them all. In one or two it resembled thunder–struck imbecility. It didn’t occur to him that the entrance of the French king’s personal representative leaning on the shoulder of a completely unknown young man was enough to cause a sensation. A group of elderly personages, conversing in a remote part of the room, became silent. The marquis gave a general greeting by an inclination of his head, and Cosmo felt himself impelled towards a console between two windows against which the marquis leaned, whispering to him, “If I were to sit down it would be such an affair to get up.” The Countess de Montevesso advanced quickly across the room. Cosmo noticed that her dress had a long train. She smiled at Cosmo and said to the marquis anxiously:

“You are in pain, papa?”

“A little…. Take him away, my dear, now. He was good enough to lend me his shoulder as far as this.”

“ Venez , Monsieur Latham,” said Adèle, “I must introduce you at once to Lady William Bentinck in order to check wild speculation about the appearance of a mysterious stranger. As it is, all the town will be full of rumours. People will be talking about you this very night.”

Cosmo followed Adèle across the room. She moved slowly and talked easily with a flattering air of intimacy. She even stopped for a moment under the great chandelier. “Lady William is talking now with Count Bubna,” she explained to Cosmo, who took a rapid survey of a tall, stout man in an Austrian general’s uniform, with his hair tied up in a queue, with black moustaches, and something cynical though not ill–natured in his expression. That personage interrupted suddenly his conversation with a lady no longer very young, who was dressed very simply, and made his way to the ambassador, giving in passing a faintly caustic smile and a keen glance to Cosmo.

“Let me introduce to you Mr. Cosmo Latham,” said Adèle. “He is the son of my father’s very old friend. He and I haven’t met since we were children together in Yorkshire. He has just arrived here.”

Cosmo bowed, and in response to a slight gesture took a seat close to the lady whose preoccupied air struck him with a sort of wonder. She seemed to have something on her mind. Cosmo could know nothing of the prevalent gossip that it was only the black eyes of Louise Durazzo that were detaining Lord William in Italy. He explained in answer to a careless inquiry as to the latest news from Paris that he had been travelling very leisurely, and that he could not possibly have brought any fresh news. Lady William looked at him as if she had not seen him before.

“Oh, I am not very much interested in the news, except in so far that it may make a longer stay here unnecessary for us.”

“I suppose everybody wants to see the shape of the civilised world settled at last,” said Cosmo politely.

“All I want is to go home,” declared Lady William. She was no longer looking at him, and had the appearance of a person not anxious to listen to anybody’s conversation. Cosmo glanced about the room. The card game had been resumed. The Austrian general was talking to the marquis, with Madame de Montevesso standing close to them, while other persons kept at a respectful distance. Lady William seemed to be following her own thoughts with a sort of impassive abstraction. Cosmo felt himself at liberty to go on with his observations, and sweeping his glance round noticed, sitting half–hidden by the back of the arm–chair Adèle had vacated, the dark girl with round black eyes whom he had seen that morning. To his extreme surprise she smiled at him, and not content with that, gave other plain signs of recognition. He thought he could do no less than get up and make her a bow. By the time he sat down again he became aware that he had attracted the notice of all the ladies seated before the fire. One of them put up her eye–glasses to look at him, two others started talking low together, with side–glances in his direction, and there was not one that did not look interested. This disturbed him much less than the fixed stare of the young creature which became fastened on him unwinkingly. Even Lady William gave him a short look of curiosity.

“I understand that you have just arrived in Genoa.”

“Yes. Yesterday afternoon late. This is my first appearance.”

He meant that it was his first appearance in society, and he continued:

“And I don’t know a single person in this room even by name. Of course I know that it is Count Bubna who is talking to the marquis, but that is all.”