Idonia: A Romance of Old LondonWallis, Arthur Frederick
History
Idonia: A Romance of Old London
Wallis, Arthur Frederick
Great Britain -- History -- Elizabeth, 1558-1603 -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
"Why, Master Jordan!" I cried out, for there on the bed lay my ancient
fat friend, his heavy Warham-face peering above the quilt, a tasselled
nightcap bobbing over his nose, and all else of him (and of the
furniture too) hid and o'erlaid by a very locust-swarm of folios.
At the first sight of me I thought he would have called upon the
mountains to bury him, from mere shame of his discovery.
"Away!" he gasped, when he could get breath to say it; "away, graceless
child! I am no foiner; I know you not. I am a man of peace, a
reverend doctor. My trade is in books. _Impallesco chartis_; I grow
pallid with conning upon the written word. What be your armies and
your invasions and your marchings to and fro? that lives should be
lived, and brains spent and lost therein. I tell you, one verse of
Catullus shall outweigh the clatter of a battalion, and Tully is the
only sergeant I salute." And so, having hurled his defiance, he sank
back amongst the bed clothes and drew down his nightcap an inch lower
upon his brow.
"You know me very well, good doctor," quoth I, and advanced to his
bedside, which was fortified with an huge _vallum_ of the Consolations.
"I am Denis Cleeve."
"'Tis like enough," said the old man with an air of infinite
resignation, and affecting still not to know me. "And I am my lord of
Pembroke's poor librarian, and at this time somewhat deeply engaged
upon the duties attaching to that service."
He drew forth a volume with a trembling hand as he spoke, and made as
if to consult it.
"Being so accustomed as you are to the use of parchments," said I, "I
had supposed you led a company of foot to tuck of drum."
He was so clearly abashed at my remembering his very words that he had
formerly spoken, that I had not the heart to proceed further in my
jesting, and so sitting down upon the couch beside him I told him that
I applauded this his exchange of resolutions, and that there was enough
of soldiers for any wars we were likely to have, but of scholars not so
ample a supply as he could be spared therefrom, save upon unlooked for
occasion. Mr. Jordan regarded me very mournfully while I spoke thus,
and when I had done lay a great while silent, fingering his folios and
shaking his tasselled head. At length he replied thus--
[Illustration: Mr. Jordan regarded me very mournfully. Chapter XII]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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