I muttered something that sounded like a dissent to that doctrine, and
he quickly added, “I mean, further than speaking my mind, that 's all;
nothing more. If you had been a man of fair means, and for a frolic
thought it might be good fun to consort for a few days with rapscallions
of a travelling circus, all one could say was, it was n't very good
taste; but being, evidently, a fellow of another stamp, a young man
who ought to be in his father's shop or his uncle's counting-house,
following some honest craft or calling,--for _you_, I say, it was
downright ruin.”
“Indeed!” said I, with an accent of intense scorn.
“Yes,” continued he, seriously, “downright ruin, There's a poison in the
lazy, good-for-nothing life of these devils, that never leaves a man's
blood. I 've a notion that it would n't hurt a man's nature so much
were he to consort with housebreakers; there's, at least, something real
about these fellows.”
“You talk, doubtless, with knowledge, sir,” said I, glad to say
something that might offend him.
“I do,” said he, seriously, and not taking the smallest account of the
impertinent allusion. “I know that if a man has n't a fixed calling,
but is always turning his hand to this, that, and t' other, he will
very soon cease to have any character whatsoever; he 'll just become as
shifty in his nature as in his business. I 've seen scores of fellows
wrecked on that rock, and I had n't looked at you twice till I saw you
were one of them.”
“I must say, sir,” said I, summoning to my aid what I felt to be a most
cutting sarcasm of manner,--“I must say, sir, that, considering how
short has been the acquaintance which has subsisted between us, it would
be extremely difficult for me to show how gratefully I feel the interest
you have taken in me.”
“Well, I 'm not so sure of that,” said he, thoughtfully.
“May I ask, then, how?”
“Are you sure, first of all, that you wish to show this gratitude you
speak of?”
“Oh, sir, can you possibly doubt it?”
“I don't want to doubt it, I want to profit by it.”
I made a bland bow that might mean anything, but did not speak.
“Here's the way of it,” said he, boldly. “Rigges has run off with all my
loose cash, and though there 's money waiting for me at certain places,
I shall find it very difficult to reach them. I have come down here
on foot from Wild-bad, and I can make my way in the same fashion, to
Marseilles or Genoa; but then comes the difficulty, and I shall need
about ten pounds to get to Malta. Could you lend me ten pounds?”
“Really, sir,” said I, coolly, “I am amazed at the innocence with which
you can make such a demand on the man whom you have, only a few minutes
back, so acutely depicted as an adventurer.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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