Vanity Fair - Page 235/573

"Upon my word, I thought when we were at Brighton she was doing me the

honour to be jealous of me; and now I suppose she is scandalised

because Rawdon, and I, and the General live together. Why, my dear

creature, how could we, with our means, live at all, but for a friend

to share expenses? And do you suppose that Rawdon is not big enough to

take care of my honour? But I'm very much obliged to Emmy, very," Mrs.

Rawdon said.

"Pooh, jealousy!" answered George, "all women are jealous."

"And all men too. Weren't you jealous of General Tufto, and the

General of you, on the night of the Opera? Why, he was ready to eat me

for going with you to visit that foolish little wife of yours; as if I

care a pin for either of you," Crawley's wife said, with a pert toss of

her head. "Will you dine here? The dragon dines with the

Commander-in-Chief. Great news is stirring. They say the French have

crossed the frontier. We shall have a quiet dinner."

George accepted the invitation, although his wife was a little ailing.

They were now not quite six weeks married. Another woman was laughing

or sneering at her expense, and he not angry. He was not even angry

with himself, this good-natured fellow. It is a shame, he owned to

himself; but hang it, if a pretty woman WILL throw herself in your way,

why, what can a fellow do, you know? I AM rather free about women, he

had often said, smiling and nodding knowingly to Stubble and Spooney,

and other comrades of the mess-table; and they rather respected him

than otherwise for this prowess. Next to conquering in war, conquering

in love has been a source of pride, time out of mind, amongst men in

Vanity Fair, or how should schoolboys brag of their amours, or Don Juan

be popular?

So Mr. Osborne, having a firm conviction in his own mind that he was a

woman-killer and destined to conquer, did not run counter to his fate,

but yielded himself up to it quite complacently. And as Emmy did not

say much or plague him with her jealousy, but merely became unhappy and

pined over it miserably in secret, he chose to fancy that she was not

suspicious of what all his acquaintance were perfectly aware--namely,

that he was carrying on a desperate flirtation with Mrs. Crawley. He

rode with her whenever she was free. He pretended regimental business

to Amelia (by which falsehood she was not in the least deceived), and

consigning his wife to solitude or her brother's society, passed his

evenings in the Crawleys' company; losing money to the husband and

flattering himself that the wife was dying of love for him. It is very

likely that this worthy couple never absolutely conspired and agreed

together in so many words: the one to cajole the young gentleman,

whilst the other won his money at cards: but they understood each other

perfectly well, and Rawdon let Osborne come and go with entire good

humour.