As aunt was equally dying to tell it, she passed over the skit upon her
age, though she did not forget nor forgive it; and repeated the whole
conversation of Vizard and Severne with rare fidelity; but as I abhor
what the evangelist calls “battology,” and Shakespeare “damnable
iteration,” I must draw upon the intelligence of the reader (if any), and
he must be pleased to imagine the whole dialogue of those two unguarded
smokers repeated to Fanny, and interrupted, commented on at every salient
point, scrutinized, sifted, dissected, and taken to pieces by two keen
women, sharp by nature, and sharper now by collision of their heads. No
candor, no tolerance, no allowance for human weakness, blunted the
scalpel in their dexterous hands.
Oh, Gossip! delight of ordinary souls, and more delightful still when you
furnish food for detraction!
To Fanny, in particular, it was exciting, ravishing, and the time flew by
so unheeded that presently there came a sharp knock and an impatient
voice cried, “Chatter! chatter! chatter! How long are we to be kept
waiting for dinner, all of us?”
CHAPTER VI.
AT the very commencement of the confabulation, so barbarously interrupted
before it had lasted two hours and a half, the Misogyn rang the bell, and
asked for Rosa, Zoe's maid.
She came, and he ordered her to have up a basket of wood, and light a
roaring fire in her mistress's room, and put out garments to air. He also
inquired the number of Zoe's bedroom. The girl said it was “No. 74.”
The Misogyn waited half an hour, and then visited “No. 74.” He found the
fire burned down to one log, and some things airing at the fire, as
domestics air their employers' things, but not their own, you may be
sure. There was a chemise carefully folded into the smallest possible
compass, and doubled over a horse at a good distance from the cold fire.
There were other garments and supplementaries, all treated in the same
way.
The Misogyn looked, and remarked as follows, “Idiots! at everything but
taking in the men.”
Having relieved his spleen with this courteous and comprehensive
observation, he piled log upon log till the fire was half up the chimney.
Then he got all the chairs and made a semi-circle, and spread out the
various garments to the genial heat; and so close that, had a spark
flown, they would have been warmed with a vengeance, and the superiority
of the male intellect demonstrated. This done, he retired, with a guilty
air; for he did not want to be caught meddling in such frivolities by
Miss Dover or Miss Maitland. However, he was quite safe; those superior
spirits were wholly occupied with the loftier things of the mind,
especially the characters of their neighbors.
I must now go for these truants that are giving everybody so much
trouble.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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