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They say she has Grandcourt under her thumb still, and it's a wonder he didn't marry her, for there's a very fine boy, and I understand Grandcourt can do absolutely as he pleases with the estates. Lush told me as much as that." "What right had he to marry this girl?" said Deronda, with disgust. Mr. Vandernoodt, adjusting the end of his cigar, shrugged his shoulders and put out his lips.
"I know nothing of his affairs." "What! not of the other establishment he keeps up?" "Diplow? Of course. He took that of Sir Hugo. But merely for the year." "No, no; not Diplow: Gadsmere. Sir Hugo knows, I'll answer for it." Deronda said nothing. He really began to feel some curiosity, but he foresaw that he should hear what Mr. Vandernoodt had to tell, without the condescension of asking.
Vandernoodt, a man of the best Dutch blood imported at the revolution: for the rest, one of those commodious persons in society who are nothing particular themselves, but are understood to be acquainted with the best in every department; close-clipped, pale-eyed, nonchalant, as good a foil as could well be found to the intense coloring and vivid gravity of Deronda.
At last her opportunity came. "Mr. Vandernoodt, you know everybody," said Gwendolen, not too eagerly, rather with a certain languor of utterance which she sometimes gave to her clear soprano. "Who is that near the door?" "There are half a dozen near the door. Do you mean that old Adonis in the George the Fourth wig?" "No, no; the dark-haired young man on the right with the dreadful expression."
Vandernoodt. And Deronda was of the same opinion, but he said nothing. The white silk and diamonds it may seem strange, but she did wear diamonds on her neck, in her ears, in her hair might have something to do with the new imposingness of her beauty, which flashed on him as more unquestionable if not more thoroughly satisfactory than when he had first seen her at the gaming-table.
The irritation was proportionate when no opportunity came; and this evening at Klesmer's she included Deronda in her anger, because he looked as calm as possible at a distance from her, while she was in danger of betraying her impatience to every one who spoke to her. She found her only safety in a chill haughtiness which made Mr. Vandernoodt remark that Mrs.
Who knows that about anybody?" said Mr. Vandernoodt, moving off to join the Langens. The remark that Gwendolen wound her neck about more than usual this evening was true. But it was not that she might carry out the serpent idea more completely: it was that she watched for any chance of seeing Deronda, so that she might inquire about this stranger, under whose measuring gaze she was still wincing.
Presently he became aware that, in the general dispersion of the group, Gwendolen had extricated herself from the attentions of Mr. Vandernoodt and had walked to the piano, where she stood apparently examining the music which lay on the desk. Will any one be surprised at Deronda's concluding that she wished him to join her?
"Another reason why I should like to know him. I am always bored." "I should think he would be charmed to have an introduction. Shall I bring it about? Will you allow it, baroness?" "Why not? since he is related to Sir Hugo Mallinger. It is a new rôle of yours, Gwendolen, to be always bored," continued Madame von Langen, when Mr. Vandernoodt had moved away.
But Gwendolen did not make Deronda's acquaintance on this occasion. Mr. Vandernoodt did not succeed in bringing him up to her that evening, and when she re-entered her own room she found a letter recalling her home. This man contrives a secret 'twixt us two, That he may quell me with his meeting eyes Like one who quells a lioness at bay. This was the letter Gwendolen found on her table:
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