Cecilia; Or, Memoirs of an Heiress — Volume 1Burney, Fanny
General
Cecilia; Or, Memoirs of an Heiress — Volume 1
Burney, Fanny
England -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Love stories; Young women -- Fiction
Soon after nine o'clock, every room was occupied, and the common crowd
of regular masqueraders were dispersed through the various apartments.
Dominos of no character, and fancy dresses of no meaning, made, as is
usual at such meetings, the general herd of the company: for the rest,
the men were Spaniards, chimney-sweepers, Turks, watchmen, conjurers,
and old women; and the ladies, shepherdesses, orange girls, Circassians,
gipseys, haymakers, and sultanas.
Cecilia had, as yet, escaped any address beyond the customary enquiry
of _Do you know me?_ and a few passing compliments; but when the rooms
filled, and the general crowd gave general courage, she was attacked in
a manner more pointed and singular.
The very first mask who approached her seemed to have nothing less in
view than preventing the approach of every other: yet had he little
reason to hope favour for himself, as the person he represented, of all
others least alluring to the view, was the devil! He was black from head
to foot, save that two red horns seemed to issue from his forehead;
his face was so completely covered that the sight only of his eyes was
visible, his feet were cloven, and in his right hand he held a wand the
colour of fire.
Waving this wand as he advanced towards Cecilia, he cleared a
semi-circular space before her chair, thrice with the most profound
reverence bowed to her, thrice turned himself around with sundry
grimaces, and then fiercely planted himself at her side.
Cecilia was amused by his mummery, but felt no great delight in his
guardianship, and, after a short time, arose, with intention to walk to
another place; but the black gentleman, adroitly moving round her,
held out his wand to obstruct her passage, and therefore, preferring
captivity to resistance, she was again obliged to seat herself.
An Hotspur, who just then made his appearance, was now strutting boldly
towards her; but the devil, rushing furiously forwards, placed himself
immediately between them. Hotspur, putting his arms a-kimbo with an air
of defiance, gave a loud stamp with his right foot, and then--marched
into another room!
The victorious devil ostentatiously waved his wand, and returned to his
station.
Mr Arnott, who had never moved two yards from Cecilia, knowing her too
well to suppose she received any pleasure from being thus distinguished,
modestly advanced to offer his assistance in releasing her from
confinement; but the devil, again describing a circle with his wand,
gave him three such smart raps on the head that his hair was disordered,
and his face covered with powder. A general laugh succeeded, and Mr
Arnott, too diffident to brave raillery, or withstand shame, retired in
confusion.
The black gentleman seemed now to have all authority in his own hands,
and his wand was brandished with more ferocity than ever, no one again
venturing to invade the domain he thought fit to appropriate for his
own.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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