Malbone: An Oldport RomanceHigginson, Thomas Wentworth
General
Malbone: An Oldport Romance
Higginson, Thomas Wentworth
Newport (R.I.) -- Fiction
As is apt to be the case in Oldport, other European nationalities beside
the French were represented, though the most marked foreign accent was
of course to be found among Americans just returned. There were European
diplomatists who spoke English perfectly; there were travellers who
spoke no English at all; and as usual each guest sought to practise
himself in the tongue he knew least. There was the usual eagerness among
the fashionable vulgar to make acquaintance with anything that combined
broken English and a title; and two minutes after a Russian prince had
seated himself comfortably on a sofa beside Kate, he was vehemently
tapped on the shoulder by Mrs. Courtenay Brash with the endearing
summons: “Why! Prince, I didn’t see as you was here. Do you set
comfortable where you be? Come over to this window, and tell all you
know!”
The prince might have felt that his summons was abrupt, but knew not
that it was ungrammatical, and so was led away in triumph. He had been
but a month or two in this country, and so spoke our language no more
correctly than Mrs. Brash, but only with more grace. There was no great
harm in Mrs. Brash; like most loquacious people, she was kind-hearted,
with a tendency to corpulence and good works. She was also afflicted
with a high color, and a chronic eruption of diamonds. Her husband
had an eye for them, having begun life as a jeweller’s apprentice, and
having developed sufficient sharpness of vision in other directions to
become a millionnaire, and a Congressman, and to let his wife do as she
pleased.
What goes forth from the lips may vary in dialect, but wine and oysters
speak the universal language. The supper-table brought our party
together, and they compared notes.
“Parties are very confusing,” philosophized Hope,--“especially when
waiters and partners dress so much alike. Just now I saw an ill-looking
man elbowing his way up to Mrs. Meredith, and I thought he was bringing
her something on a plate. Instead of that, it was his hand he held out,
and she put hers into it; and I was told that he was one of the leaders
of society. There are very few gentlemen here whom I could positively
tell from the waiters by their faces, and yet Harry says the fast set
are not here.”
“Talk of the angels!” said Philip. “There come the Inglesides.”
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.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account