PAGE 21
Mademoiselle Panache
by
[Footnote 6: Swift]
Mr. Mountague, after having loved like a madman, felt it not in the least incumbent upon him to love like a fool; he had imprudently declared himself an admirer of Lady Augusta, but he now resolved never to unite himself to her without some more reasonable prospect of happiness. Every day some petty cause of disagreement arose between them, whilst mademoiselle, by her silly and impertinent interference, made matters worse. Mademoiselle had early expressed her strong abhorrence of prudes; her pupil seemed to have caught the same abhorrence; she saw that Mr. Mountague was alarmed by her spirit of coquetry, yet still it continued in full force. For instance, she would continually go out with Lord George in his phaeton, though she declared, every time he handed her in, “that she was certain he would break her neck.” She would receive verses from Dashwood, and keep them embalmed in her pocket-book, though she allowed that she thought them “sad stuff.”
However, in these verses something more was meant than met the ear. He began with addressing a poem to her ladyship, called The Turban, which her silly mother extolled with eagerness, and seemed to think by no means inferior to the Rape of the Lock. Lady Augusta wrote a few lines in answer to the Turban–reply produced reply–nonsense, nonsense–till Dashwood now and then forgot his poetical character. Lady Augusta forgave it; he, of course, forgot himself again into a lover in prose. For some time the sonnets were shown to Lady S—-, but at length some were received, which it was thought as well not to show to any body. In short, between fancy, flattery, poetry, passion, jest, and earnest, Lady Augusta was drawn on till she hardly knew where she was; but Dashwood knew perfectly well where he was, and resolved to keep his ground resolutely.
When encouraged by the lady’s coquetry, he first formed his plans; he imagined that a promise of a wedding-present would easily secure her governess: but this was a slight mistake; avarice happened not to be the ruling, or, at least at this time, the reigning passion of mademoiselle’s mind; and quickly perceiving his error, he paid assiduous court to her vanity. She firmly believed that she had captivated him, and was totally blind to his real designs. The grand difficulty with Dashwood was, not to persuade her of his passion, but to prevent her from believing him too soon; and he thought it expedient to delay completing his conquest of the governess till he had gained an equally powerful influence over her pupil. One evening, Dashwood, passing through a sheltered walk, heard Lady Augusta and Mr. Mountague talking very loudly and eagerly: they passed through the grove so quickly that he could catch only the words “phaeton–imprudence.”
“Pshaw! jealousy–nonsense.”
“Reasonable woman for a wife.”
“Pooh, no such thing.”
“My unalterable resolution,” were the concluding words of Mr. Mountague, in a calm but decided voice; and, “As you please, sir! I’ve no notion of giving up my will in every thing,” the concluding words of Lady Augusta pronounced in a pettish tone, as she broke from him; yet pausing for a moment, Dashwood, to his great surprise and concern, heard her in a softer tone add a but, which showed she was not quite willing to break from Mr. Mountague for ever. Dashwood was alarmed beyond measure; but the lady did not long continue in this frame of mind, for, upon going into her dressing-room to rest herself, she found her governess at the glass.
” Bon Dieu! ” exclaimed mademoiselle, turning round: “Miladi told me you was gone out– mais qu’est ce que c’est? vous voila pale –you are as white– blanc comme mon linge,” cried she, with emphasis, at the same time touching a handkerchief, which was so far from white, that her pupil could not help bursting out into a laugh at the unfortunate illustration. ” Pauvre petite! tenez,” continued mademoiselle, running up to her with salts, apprehensive that she was going into fits.