The Actress in High Life: An Episode in Winter QuartersBowen, Sue Petigru
General
The Actress in High Life: An Episode in Winter Quarters
Bowen, Sue Petigru
Fiction
How came it then, when the commissary had expressed very copiously his
delight at seeing Colonel L'Isle again, and yet more at seeing him so
much better in health and strength than he had dared to hope, L'Isle
condescendingly gave him to understand that the pleasure of this
meeting was not all on the commissary's side? When Shortridge
congratulated him on his promotion, and yet more on the high deserts
that had drawn it upon him, L'Isle's manner implied that the
commissary's good opinion gave him greater confidence in himself. How
could L'Isle do this? Simply because the proudest and best of us can
tolerate, and even flatter, those we despise, when we have urgent
occasion to use them.
The commissary then said, "I have brought Mrs. Shortridge with me to
Elvas."
"I am very glad to hear it," answered L'Isle, without betraying that
he knew it before. "Even one English lady is a precious addition to
our society in this dull place."
"Mrs. Shortridge has never forgotten your rescuing her from under the
feet of the idolatrous rabble of Lisbon. She is still a strong friend
of yours, and will be delighted to see you, as soon as she is mistress
of a decent apartment."
"Where is she now?"
"Not far from here--but in such an abominable hole, that a lady is
naturally ashamed to be caught there by any genteel acquaintance."
"I am truly sorry to hear that she is so badly lodged."
"Our officers," said Shortridge, "have taken up all the best houses;
and the troops being quartered here has attracted such an additional
population from the country around, that I was afraid I would have to
carry Mrs. Shortridge to rooms in the barracks."
"That will never do," said L'Isle. "But, pray, if I am in her
neighborhood, let me call on Mrs. Shortridge, and welcome her to
Elvas."
Thus urged, the commissary led the way, and soon reached his
lodgings. They found the lady in a room of some size, but dark, dirty,
and offensive enough to eye and nose to disgust her with Elvas and
drive her back to Lisbon, without unpacking the numerous trunks,
baskets, band-boxes, and portable furniture which lumbered the room.
These her man-servant was arranging, under her direction, while she
was good-humoredly trying to pacify her maid, who, with tears in her
eyes, was protesting that she could not sleep another night in that
coal-hole, into which the people of the house had thrust her, and
which they would persist in calling a chamber.
Mrs. Shortridge, a plump and pretty woman of eight-and-twenty, was a
good deal fluttered at seeing such a visitor at such a time. She
declared "that she did not know whether she was more delighted or
ashamed to see Major--I beg your pardon--Colonel L'Isle, in such a
place; we, who have been accustomed to a suite of genteel apartments
wherever we went."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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