Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 09
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Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 09
Literature -- Collections
We had reached the rosery. The lovely Fanny, who seemed the belle of the
day, insisted out of obstinacy in breaking off a blossomed stem herself.
She wounded herself on a thorn, and the purple streamed from her tender
hand as if from the dark roses. This circumstance put the whole party
into a flutter. English plaster was sought for. A quiet, thin, lanky,
longish, oldish man who stood near, and whom I had not hitherto
remarked, put his hand instantly into the tight breast-pocket of his old
gray French taffeta coat; produced thence a little pocket-book, opened
it, and presented to the lady with a profound obeisance the required
article. She took it without noticing the giver, and without thanks; the
wound was bound up and we went forward over the hill, from whose back
the company could enjoy the wide prospect over the green labyrinth of
the park to the boundless ocean.
The view was in reality vast and splendid. A light point appeared on the
horizon between the dark flood and the blue of the heaven. "A telescope
here!" cried John; and already, before the servants who appeared at the
call were in motion, the gray man, modestly bowing, had thrust his hand
into his coat pocket, drawn thence a beautiful Dollond, and handed it to
Mr. John. Bringing it immediately to his eye, he informed the company
that it was the ship which went out yesterday, and was detained in view
of port by contrary winds. The telescope passed from hand to hand, but
not again into that of its owner. I however gazed in wonder at the man,
and could not conceive how the great machine had come out of the narrow
pocket; but this seemed to have struck no one else, and nobody troubled
himself any further about the gray man than about myself.
Refreshments were handed round; the choicest fruits of every zone, in
the costliest vessels. Mr. John did the honors with an easy grace, and a
second time addressed a word to me: "Help yourself; you have not had the
like at sea." I bowed, but he did not see it; he was already speaking
with some one else.
The company would fain have reclined upon the sward on the slope of the
hill, opposite to the outstretched landscape, had they not feared the
dampness of the earth. "It were divine," observed one of the party, "had
we but a Turkey carpet to spread here." The wish was scarcely expressed
when the man in the gray coat had his hand in his pocket, and was busied
in drawing thence, with a modest and even humble deportment, a rich
Turkey carpet interwoven with gold. The servants received it as a matter
of course, and opened it on the required spot. The company, without
ceremony, took their places upon it; for myself, I looked again in
amazement on the man--at the carpet, which measured about twenty paces
long and ten in breadth and rubbed my eyes, not knowing what to think of
it, especially as nobody saw anything extraordinary in it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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