This Signor Montoni had an air of conscious superiority, animated
by spirit, and strengthened by talents, to which every person seemed
involuntarily to yield. The quickness of his perceptions was strikingly
expressed on his countenance, yet that countenance could submit
implicitly to occasion; and, more than once in this day, the triumph of
art over nature might have been discerned in it. His visage was long,
and rather narrow, yet he was called handsome; and it was, perhaps,
the spirit and vigour of his soul, sparkling through his features, that
triumphed for him. Emily felt admiration, but not the admiration that
leads to esteem; for it was mixed with a degree of fear she knew not
exactly wherefore.
Cavigni was gay and insinuating as formerly; and, though he paid almost
incessant attention to Madame Cheron, he found some opportunities of
conversing with Emily, to whom he directed, at first, the sallies of his
wit, but now and then assumed an air of tenderness, which she observed,
and shrunk from. Though she replied but little, the gentleness and
sweetness of her manners encouraged him to talk, and she felt relieved
when a young lady of the party, who spoke incessantly, obtruded herself
on his notice. This lady, who possessed all the sprightliness of
a Frenchwoman, with all her coquetry, affected to understand every
subject, or rather there was no affectation in the case; for, never
looking beyond the limits of her own ignorance, she believed she had
nothing to learn. She attracted notice from all; amused some, disgusted
others for a moment, and was then forgotten.
This day passed without any material occurrence; and Emily, though
amused by the characters she had seen, was glad when she could retire to
the recollections, which had acquired with her the character of duties.
A fortnight passed in a round of dissipation and company, and Emily, who
attended Madame Cheron in all her visits, was sometimes entertained, but
oftener wearied. She was struck by the apparent talents and knowledge
displayed in the various conversations she listened to, and it was long
before she discovered, that the talents were for the most part those of
imposture, and the knowledge nothing more than was necessary to assist
them. But what deceived her most, was the air of constant gaiety and
good spirits, displayed by every visitor, and which she supposed to
arise from content as constant, and from benevolence as ready. At
length, from the over-acting of some, less accomplished than the others,
she could perceive, that, though contentment and benevolence are
the only sure sources of cheerfulness, the immoderate and feverish
animation, usually exhibited in large parties, results partly from an
insensibility to the cares, which benevolence must sometimes derive
from the sufferings of others, and partly from a desire to display the
appearance of that prosperity, which they know will command submission
and attention to themselves.