Presently the house was full of people. The passage was full of girls;
a few men sat at breakfast at the end of the long table. Some red-
coats passed. The huntsman stopped in front of the house, the dogs
sniffed here and there, the whips trotted their horses and drove them
back. 'Get together, get together; get back there! Woodland Beauty,
come up here.' The hounds rolled on the grass and leaned their fore-
paws on the railings, willing to be caressed.
'Now, John, try and make yourself agreeable; go over and talk to some
of the young ladies. Why do you dress yourself in that way? Have you
no other coat? You look like a young priest. Look at that young man
over there; how nicely dressed he is! I wish you would let your
moustache grow; it would improve you immensely.' With these and
similar remarks whispered to him, Mrs. Norton continued to exasperate
her son until the servants announced that lunch was ready. 'Take in
Mrs. So-and-so,' she said to John, who would fain have escaped from
the melting glances of the lady in the long seal-skin. He offered her
his arm with an air of resignation, and set to work valiantly to carve
a large turkey.
As soon as the servants had cleared away after one set another came,
and although the meet was a small one, John took six ladies in to
lunch. About half-past three the men adjourned to the billiard-room to
smoke. The numerous girls followed, and with their arms round each
other's waists and interlacing fingers, they grouped themselves about
the room. At five the huntsmen returned, and much to his annoyance,
John had to furnish them with a change of clothes. There was tea in
the drawing-room, and soon after the visitors began to take their
leave.
The wind blew very coldly, the roosting rooks rose out of the
branches, and the carriages rolled into the night; but still a remnant
of visitors stood on the steps talking to John. He felt very ill, and
now a long sharp pain had grown through his left side, and momentarily
it became more and more difficult to exchange polite words and smiles.
The footmen stood waiting by the open door, the horses champed their
bits, the green of the park was dark, and a group of girls moved about
the loggia, wheels grated on the gravel... all were gone! The butler
shut the door, and John went to the library fire. There his mother
found him. She saw that something was seriously the matter. He was
helped up to bed, and the doctor sent for.
For more than a week he suffered. He lay bent over, unable to
straighten himself, as if a nerve had been wound up too tightly in the
left side. He was fed on gruel and beef-tea, the room was kept very
warm; it was not until the twelfth day that he was taken out of bed.
'You have had a narrow escape,' the doctor said to John, who, well
wrapped up, lay back, looking very pale and weak, before a blazing
fire. 'It was lucky I was sent for. Twenty-four hours later I would
not have answered for your life.'
'I was delirious, was I not?'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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