- end_line
- 1267
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:52.918Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 1202
- text
- manoeuvring at all. The two Platonic particles, after roaming in quest
of each other, from the time of Saturn and Ops till now; they came
together before Mrs. Tartan's own eyes; and what more could Mrs. Tartan
do toward making them forever one and indivisible? Once, and only once,
had a dim suspicion passed through Pierre's mind, that Mrs. Tartan was a
lady thimble-rigger, and slyly rolled the pea.
In their less mature acquaintance, he was breakfasting with Lucy and
her mother in the city, and the first cup of coffee had been poured out
by Mrs. Tartan, when she declared she smelt matches burning somewhere in
the house, and she must see them extinguished. So banning all pursuit,
she rose to seek for the burning matches, leaving the pair alone to
interchange the civilities of the coffee; and finally sent word to them,
from above stairs, that the matches, or something else, had given her a
headache, and begged Lucy to send her up some toast and tea, for she
would breakfast in her own chamber that morning.
Upon this, Pierre looked from Lucy to his boots, and as he lifted his
eyes again, saw Anacreon on the sofa on one side of him, and Moore's
Melodies on the other, and some honey on the table, and a bit of white
satin on the floor, and a sort of bride's veil on the chandelier.
Never mind though--thought Pierre, fixing his gaze on Lucy--I'm entirely
willing to be caught, when the bait is set in Paradise, and the bait is
such an angel. Again he glanced at Lucy, and saw a look of infinite
subdued vexation, and some unwonted pallor on her cheek. Then willingly
he would have kissed the delicious bait, that so gently hated to be
tasted in the trap. But glancing round again, and seeing that the music,
which Mrs. Tartan, under the pretense of putting in order, had been
adjusting upon the piano; seeing that this music was now in a vertical
pile against the wall, with--"_Love was once a little boy_," for the
outermost and only visible sheet; and thinking this to be a remarkable
coincidence under the circumstances; Pierre could not refrain from a
humorous smile, though it was a very gentle one, and immediately
repented of, especially as Lucy seeing and interpreting it, immediately
arose, with an unaccountable, indignant, angelical, adorable, and
all-persuasive "Mr. Glendinning?" utterly confounded in him the
slightest germ of suspicion as to Lucy's collusion in her mother's
imagined artifices.
Indeed, Mrs. Tartan's having any thing whatever to do, or hint, or
finesse in this matter of the loves of Pierre and Lucy, was nothing less
than immensely gratuitous and sacrilegious. Would Mrs. Tartan doctor
lilies when they blow? Would Mrs. Tartan set about match-making between
the steel and magnet? Preposterous Mrs. Tartan! But this whole world is
a preposterous one, with many preposterous people in it; chief among
whom was Mrs. Tartan, match-maker to the nation.
This conduct of Mrs. Tartan, was the more absurd, seeing that she could
not but know that Mrs. Glendinning desired the thing. And was not Lucy
wealthy?--going to be, that is, very wealthy when her mother died;--(sad
thought that for Mrs. Tartan)--and was not her husband's family of the
best; and had not Lucy's father been a bosom friend of Pierre's father?
And though Lucy might be matched to some one man, where among women was
the match for Lucy? Exceedingly preposterous Mrs. Tartan! But when a
lady like Mrs. Tartan has nothing positive and useful to do, then she
will do just such preposterous things as Mrs. Tartan did.
Well, time went on; and Pierre loved Lucy, and Lucy, Pierre; till at
last the two young naval gentlemen, her brothers, happened to arrive in
Mrs. Tartan's drawing-room, from their first cruise--a three years' one
up the Mediterranean. They rather stared at Pierre, finding him on the
sofa, and Lucy not very remote.
"Pray, be seated, gentlemen," said Pierre. "Plenty of room."
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