Chapter Chapter 5 · 第5章

Within a short walk of Longbourn lived a family with whom the Bennets

were particularly intimate. Sir William Lucas had been formerly in trade

in Meryton, where he had made a tolerable fortune, and risen to the

honour of knighthood by an address to the king during his mayoralty. The

distinction had, perhaps, been felt too strongly. It had given him a

disgust to his business and to his residence in a small market town;

and, quitting them both, he had removed with his family to a house about

a mile from Meryton, denominated from that period Lucas Lodge; where he

could think with pleasure of his own importance, and, unshackled by

business, occupy himself solely in being civil to all the world. For,

though elated by his rank, it did not render him supercilious; on the

contrary, he was all attention to everybody. By nature inoffensive,

friendly, and obliging, his presentation at St. James’s had made him

courteous.

Lady Lucas was a very good kind of woman, not too clever to be a

valuable neighbour to Mrs. Bennet. They had several children. The eldest

of them, a sensible, intelligent young woman, about twenty-seven, was

Elizabeth’s intimate friend.

That the Miss Lucases and the Miss Bennets should meet to talk over a

ball was absolutely necessary; and the morning after the assembly

brought the former to Longbourn to hear and to communicate.

“_You_ began the evening well, Charlotte,” said Mrs. Bennet, with civil

self-command, to Miss Lucas. “_You_ were Mr. Bingley’s first choice.”

“Yes; but he seemed to like his second better.”

“Oh, you mean Jane, I suppose, because he danced with her twice. To be

sure that _did_ seem as if he admired her--indeed, I rather believe he

_did_--I heard something about it--but I hardly know what--something

about Mr. Robinson.”

“Perhaps you mean what I overheard between him and Mr. Robinson: did not

I mention it to you? Mr. Robinson’s asking him how he liked our Meryton

assemblies, and whether he did not think there were a great many pretty

women in the room, and _which_ he thought the prettiest? and his

answering immediately to the last question, ‘Oh, the eldest Miss Bennet,

beyond a doubt: there cannot be two opinions on that point.’”

“Upon my word! Well, that was very decided, indeed--that does seem as

if--but, however, it may all come to nothing, you know.”

“_My_ overhearings were more to the purpose than _yours_, Eliza,” said

Charlotte. “Mr. Darcy is not so well worth listening to as his friend,

is he? Poor Eliza! to be only just _tolerable_.”

“I beg you will not put it into Lizzy’s head to be vexed by his

ill-treatment, for he is such a disagreeable man that it would be quite

a misfortune to be liked by him. Mrs. Long told me last night that he

sat close to her for half an hour without once opening his lips.”

[Illustration: “Without once opening his lips”

[_Copyright 1894 by George Allen._]]

“Are you quite sure, ma’am? Is not there a little mistake?” said Jane.

“I certainly saw Mr. Darcy speaking to her.”

“Ay, because she asked him at last how he liked Netherfield, and he

could not help answering her; but she said he seemed very angry at being

spoke to.”

“Miss Bingley told me,” said Jane, “that he never speaks much unless

among his intimate acquaintance. With _them_ he is remarkably

agreeable.”

“I do not believe a word of it, my dear. If he had been so very

agreeable, he would have talked to Mrs. Long. But I can guess how it

was; everybody says that he is eat up with pride, and I dare say he had

heard somehow that Mrs. Long does not keep a carriage, and had to come

to the ball in a hack chaise.”

“I do not mind his not talking to Mrs. Long,” said Miss Lucas, “but I

wish he had danced with Eliza.”

“Another time, Lizzy,” said her mother, “I would not dance with _him_,

if I were you.”

“I believe, ma’am, I may safely promise you _never_ to dance with him.”

“His pride,” said Miss Lucas, “does not offend _me_ so much as pride

often does, because there is an excuse for it. One cannot wonder that so

very fine a young man, with family, fortune, everything in his favour,

should think highly of himself. If I may so express it, he has a _right_

to be proud.”

“That is very true,” replied Elizabeth, “and I could easily forgive

_his_ pride, if he had not mortified _mine_.”

“Pride,” observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her

reflections, “is a very common failing, I believe. By all that I have

ever read, I am convinced that it is very common indeed; that human

nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us

who do not cherish a feeling of self-complacency on the score of some

quality or other, real or imaginary. Vanity and pride are different

things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be

proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of

ourselves; vanity to what we would have others think of us.”

“If I were as rich as Mr. Darcy,” cried a young Lucas, who came with his

sisters, “I should not care how proud I was. I would keep a pack of

foxhounds, and drink a bottle of wine every day.”

“Then you would drink a great deal more than you ought,” said Mrs.

Bennet; “and if I were to see you at it, I should take away your bottle

directly.”

The boy protested that she should not; she continued to declare that she

would; and the argument ended only with the visit.

[Illustration]

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