Cecilia; Or, Memoirs of an Heiress — Volume 2Burney, Fanny
General
Cecilia; Or, Memoirs of an Heiress — Volume 2
Burney, Fanny
England -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Love stories; Young women -- Fiction
She returned his salutation, but was not much charmed to observe, that
presently descending from his exalted post, which had moved the wonder
and risibility of all the company, he made a motion to approach her; for
which purpose, regardless of either ladies or gentlemen in his way, he
sturdily pushed forward, with the same unconcerned hardiness he would
have forced himself through a crowd in the street; and taking not the
smallest notice of their frowns, supplications that he would stand
still, and exclamations of “Pray, Sir!”--“Lord, how troublesome!” and
“Sir, I do assure you here's no room!” he fairly and adroitly elbowed
them from him till he reached her seat; and then, with a waggish grin,
he looked round, to show he had got the better, and to see whom he had
discomposed.
When he had enjoyed this triumph, he turned to Cecilia, and chucking her
under the chin, said “Well, my little duck, how goes it? got to you at
last; squeezed my way; would not be nicked; warrant I'll mob with the
best of them! Look here! all in a heat!--hot as the dog days.”
And then, to the utter consternation of the company, he took off his wig
to wipe his head! which occasioned such universal horror, that all who
were near the door escaped into other, apartments, while those who were
too much enclosed, for flight, with one accord turned away their heads.
Captain Aresby, being applied to by some of the ladies to remonstrate
upon this unexampled behaviour, advanced to him, and said, “I am
quite abimé, Sir, to incommode you, but the commands of the ladies are
insuperable. Give me leave, Sir, to entreat that you would put on your
wig.”
“My wig?” cried he, “ay, ay, shall in a moment, only want to wipe my
head first.”
“I am quite assommé, Sir,” returned the Captain, “to disturb you, but
I must really hint you don't comprehend me; the ladies are extremely
inconvenienced by these sort of sights, and we make it a principle they
should never be accablées with them.”
“Anan!” cried Mr Briggs, staring.
“I say, Sir,” replied the Captain, “the ladies are quite au desespoir
that you will not cover your head.”
“What for?” cried he, “what's the matter with my head? ne'er a man here
got a better! very good stuff in it; won't change it with ne'er a one of
you!”
And then, half unconscious of the offence he had given, and half angry
at the rebuke he had received, he leisurely compleated his design, and
again put on his wig, settling it to his face with as much composure as
if he had performed the operation in his own dressing-room.
The Captain, having gained his point, walked away, making, however,
various grimaces of disgust, and whispering from side to side “he's the
most petrifying fellow I ever was obsedé by!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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