England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
“In the hurry of the moment I scarce knew what I did. I bade the
housekeeper put up every delicacy she had, in order to tempt the
invalid, whom yet I hoped to bring back with me to our house. When the
carriage was ready, I took the good woman with me to show us the exact
way, which my coachman professed not to know; for, indeed, they were
staying at but a poor kind of place at the back of Leicester Square, of
which they had heard, as Clément told me afterwards, from one of the
fishermen who had carried them across from the Dutch coast in their
disguises as a Friesland peasant and his mother. They had some jewels of
value concealed round their persons; but their ready money was all spent
before I saw them, and Clément had been unwilling to leave his mother,
even for the time necessary to ascertain the best mode of disposing of
the diamonds. For, overcome with distress of mind and bodily fatigue,
she had reached London only to take to her bed in a sort of low,
nervous fever, in which her chief and only idea seemed to be, that
Clément was about to be taken from her to some prison or other; and if
he were out of her sight, though but for a minute, she cried like a
child, and could not be pacified or comforted. The landlady was a kind,
good woman, and though she but half understood the case, she was truly
sorry for them, as foreigners, and the mother sick in a strange land.
“I sent her forwards to request permission for my entrance. In a moment
I saw Clément--a tall, elegant young man, in a curious dress of coarse
cloth, standing at the open door of a room, and evidently--even before
he accosted me--striving to soothe the terrors of his mother inside. I
went towards him, and would have taken his hand, but he bent down and
kissed mine.
“‘May I come in, madame?’ I asked, looking at the poor sick lady, lying
in the dark, dingy bed, her head propped up on coarse and dirty pillows,
and gazing with affrighted eyes at all that was going on.
“‘Clément! Clément! come to me!’ she cried; and when he went to the
bedside she turned on one side, and took his hand in both of hers, and
began stroking it, and looking up in his face. I could scarce keep back
my tears.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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