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<h2> Chapter 5 </h2>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"<i>You</i> began the evening well, Charlotte," said Mrs. Bennet with
civil self-command to Miss Lucas. "<i>You</i> were Mr. Bingley's first
choice."</p>
<p>"Yes; but he seemed to like his second better."</p>
<p>"Oh! you mean Jane, I suppose, because he danced with her twice. To be
sure that <i>did</i> seem as if he admired her—indeed I rather
believe he <i>did</i>—I heard something about it—but I hardly
know what—something about Mr. Robinson."</p>
<p>"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 <i>which</i> 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.'"</p>
<p>"Upon my word! Well, that is very decided indeed—that does seem as
if—but, however, it may all come to nothing, you know."</p>
<p>"<i>My</i> overhearings were more to the purpose than <i>yours</i>,
Eliza," said Charlotte. "Mr. Darcy is not so well worth listening to as
his friend, is he?—poor Eliza!—to be only just <i>tolerable</i>."</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>"Are you quite sure, ma'am?—is not there a little mistake?" said
Jane. "I certainly saw Mr. Darcy speaking to her."</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>"Miss Bingley told me," said Jane, "that he never speaks much, unless
among his intimate acquaintances. With <i>them</i> he is remarkably
agreeable."</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>"I do not mind his not talking to Mrs. Long," said Miss Lucas, "but I wish
he had danced with Eliza."</p>
<p>"Another time, Lizzy," said her mother, "I would not dance with <i>him</i>,
if I were you."</p>
<p>"I believe, ma'am, I may safely promise you <i>never</i> to dance with
him."</p>
<p>"His pride," said Miss Lucas, "does not offend <i>me</i> 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 <i>right</i>
to be proud."</p>
<p>"That is very true," replied Elizabeth, "and I could easily forgive <i>his</i>
pride, if he had not mortified <i>mine</i>."</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>The boy protested that she should not; she continued to declare that she
would, and the argument ended only with the visit.</p>
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