King John of Jingalo: The Story of a Monarch in DifficultiesHousman, Laurence
General
King John of Jingalo: The Story of a Monarch in Difficulties
Housman, Laurence
Kings and rulers -- Fiction
Halfway across this elevation he paused to look down into the vast
chamber below. At some point among its chandeliers burned a small
pinhole of light that revealed in a strange dimness various forms of
furniture, showing monstrous and uncouth in their night attire.
Night-gowns rather than pajamas seemed the general wear; only a few legs
were to be seen. In this, its sleeping aspect, the place was certainly
more harmonious and more chaste than by day; mirrors and pictures loomed
from the white walls with a mystery that would disappear when the
lusters contained their light; and the King lingered to take in the
pleasant strangeness of it all, and to wonder what was this new quality
which so attracted him.
As he did so his ear caught from without a faint reverberation of
muffled sound; even and regular in its beat, it drew near.
At the far end a door was thrown open; a flush of light entered the
chamber, and there came following it a troop of men wearing felt
slippers and long linen aprons, and bearing upon their shoulders brooms,
feather-heads, wash-leathers, brushes, dusters, steps, vacuum-cleaners,
and other mysterious instruments of an uninterpretable form.
With the regularity and precision of a drilled army, and with no word
spoken, they moved forward to the attack. Curtains were drawn, cords
pulled, blinds raised, steps mounted. Lusters jingled to the touch of
feathers, cornices shed down their minute particles of dust to the
Charybdian maw of traveling gramophone. Over the carpet metallic
cow-catchers wheezed and groaned with a loud trundling of wheels, and
departed processionally to the chamber beyond. Then by a triple process,
simultaneously conducted, the furniture-sheets were lifted, drawn off,
and folded; a large wicker-table on wheels received and bore them away.
A cloud of light skirmishers followed after; and over every cushion and
seat and polished surface plied their manicurist skill. Then a
storming-party escaladed the gallery from below and the King, to avoid
the embarrassment of an encounter with a body of servitors who had not
the pleasure of his acquaintance, was at last obliged to retire.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account