Adventure stories; Fiction; Mystery fiction; Short stories
Behind the dining-room, that pleasant library, referred to by the old
lady in her tale, looked upon the flat roofs and netted cupolas of the
kitchen quarters; and on a second visit, this room appeared to greet him
with a smiling countenance. He might as well, he thought, avoid the
expense of lodging: the library, fitted with an iron bedstead which he
had remarked, in one of the upper chambers, would serve his purpose for
the night; while in the dining-room, which was large, airy, and
lightsome, looking on the square and garden, he might very agreeably pass
his days, cook his meals, and study to bring himself to some proficiency
in that art of painting which he had recently determined to adopt. It
did not take him long to make the change: he had soon returned to the
mansion with his modest kit; and the cabman who brought him was readily
induced, by the young man’s pleasant manner and a small gratuity, to
assist him in the installation of the iron bed. By six in the evening,
when Somerset went forth to dine, he was able to look back upon the
mansion with a sense of pride and property. Four-square it stood, of an
imposing frontage, and flanked on either side by family hatchments. His
eye, from where he stood whistling in the key, with his back to the
garden railings, reposed on every feature of reality; and yet his own
possession seemed as flimsy as a dream.
In the course of a few days, the genteel inhabitants of the square began
to remark the customs of their neighbour. The sight of a young gentleman
discussing a clay pipe, about four o’clock of the afternoon, in the
drawing-room balcony of so discreet a mansion; and perhaps still more,
his periodical excursion to a decent tavern in the neighbourhood, and his
unabashed return, nursing the full tankard: had presently raised to a
high pitch the interest and indignation of the liveried servants of the
square. The disfavour of some of these gentlemen at first proceeded to
the length of insult; but Somerset knew how to be affable with any class
of men; and a few rude words merrily accepted, and a few glasses amicably
shared, gained for him the right of toleration.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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