Читать книгу Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austin, Jane Austin - Страница 7

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, in 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 is 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 would 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.”

“Are you quite sure, ma’am?—is not there a little mistake?” said

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

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

he could not help answering her; but she said he seemed quite

angry at being spoke to.”

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

unless among his intimate acquaintances. 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 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 a 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.