The Caxtons: A Family Picture — Volume 04 — John Shaqi
The Caxtons: A Family Picture — Volume 04Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
General
The Caxtons: A Family Picture — Volume 04
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century; Families -- Fiction
The younger man was apparently about my own age,--a year or two older,
perhaps, judging rather from his set and sinewy frame than his boyish
countenance. And this last, boyish as it was, could not fail to command
the attention even of the most careless observer. It had not only the
darkness, but the character of the gipsy face, with large, brilliant
eyes, raven hair, long and wavy, but not curling; the features were
aquiline, but delicate, and when he spoke he showed teeth dazzling as
pearls. It was impossible not to admire the singular beauty of the
countenance; and yet it had that expression, at once stealthy and
fierce, which war with society has stamped upon the lineaments of the
race of which it reminded me. But, withal, there was somewhat of the
air of a gentleman in this young wayfarer. His dress consisted of a
black velveteen shooting-jacket, or rather short frock, with a broad
leathern strap at the waist, loose white trousers, and a foraging cap,
which he threw carelessly on the table as he wiped his brow. Turning
round impatiently, and with some haughtiness, from his companion, he
surveyed me with a quick, observant flash of his piercing eyes, and then
stretched himself at length on the bench, and appeared either to dose or
muse, till, in obedience to his companion's orders, the board was spread
with all the cold meats the larder could supply.
"Beef!" said his companion, screwing a pinchbeck glass into his right
eye. "Beef,--mottled, covey; humph! Lamb,--oldish, ravish, muttony;
humph! Pie,--stalish. Veal?--no, pork. Ah! what will you have?"
"Help yourself," replied the young man peevishly, as he sat up, looked
disdainfully at the viands, and, after a long pause, tasted first one,
then the other, with many shrugs of the shoulders and muttered
exclamations of discontent. Suddenly he looked up, and called for
brandy; and to my surprise, and I fear admiration, he drank nearly half
a tumblerful of that poison undiluted, with a composure that spoke of
habitual use.
"Wrong!" said his companion, drawing the bottle to himself, and mixing
the alcohol in careful proportions with water. "Wrong! coats of
stomach soon wear out with that kind of clothes-brush. Better stick to
the 'yeasty foam,' as sweet Will says. That young gentleman sets you a
good example," and therewith the speaker nodded at me familiarly.
Inexperienced as I was, I surmised at once that it was his intention to
make acquaintance with the neighbor thus saluted. I was not deceived.
"Anything to tempt you, sir?" asked this social personage after a short
pause, and describing a semicircle with the point of his knife.
"I thank you, sir, but I have dined."
"What then? 'Break out into a second course of mischief,' as the Swan
recommends,--Swan of Avon, sir! No? 'Well, then, I charge you with
this cup of sack.' Are you going far, if I may take the liberty to
ask?"
"To London."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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