Tancred; Or, The New CrusadeDisraeli, Benjamin, Earl of Beaconsfield
ReligionJewish
Tancred; Or, The New Crusade
Disraeli, Benjamin, Earl of Beaconsfield
Christianity and other religions -- Judaism -- Fiction; Judaism -- Relations -- Christianity -- Fiction
‘I am delighted that they will be here to-morrow,’ said the duchess. ‘I
am so anxious that he should see Kate before the castle is full, when he
will have a thousand calls upon his time! I feel persuaded that he will
love her at first sight. And as for their being cousins, why, we were
cousins, and that did not hinder us from loving each other.’
‘If she resemble you as much as you resembled your aunt ----’ said the
duke, looking up.
‘She is my perfect image, my very self, Harriet says, in disposition, as
well as face and form.’
‘Then our son has a good chance of being a very happy man,’ said the
duke.
‘That he should come of age, enter Parliament, and marry in the same
year! We ought to be very thankful. What a happy year!’
‘But not one of these events has yet occurred,’ said the duke, smiling.
‘But they all will,’ said the duchess, ‘under Providence.’
‘I would not precipitate marriage.’
‘Certainly not; nor should I wish him to think of it before the autumn.
I should like him to be married on our wedding-day.’
CHAPTER V.
_The Heir Comes of Age_
THE sun shone brightly, there was a triumphal arch at every road;
the market-place and the town-hall were caparisoned like steeds for a
tournament, every house had its garland; the flags were flying on every
tower and steeple. There was such a peal of bells you could scarcely
hear your neighbour’s voice; then came discharges of artillery, and then
bursts of music from various bands, all playing different tunes. The
country people came trooping in, some on horseback, some in carts, some
in procession. The Temperance band made an immense noise, and the
Odd Fellows were loudly cheered. Every now and then one of the duke’s
yeomanry galloped through the town in his regimentals of green and
silver, with his dark flowing plume and clattering sabre, and with an
air of business-like desperation, as if he were carrying a message from
the commander-in-chief in the thickest of the fight.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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