The Mysteries of Paris, illustrated with etchings, Vol. 1Sue, Eugène
General
The Mysteries of Paris, illustrated with etchings, Vol. 1
Sue, Eugène
Paris (France) -- Fiction
"You got here this morning, I suppose?"
"I did, at eight o'clock. Madame Georges has had ample time to make all
the preparations you desired."
"What has gone wrong, Murphy? You seem completely out of humour. Have I
done anything to offend you?"
"Can you not, my lord, accomplish your self-imposed task without
incurring so much personal risk?"
"Surely, in order to lull all suspicion in the minds of the persons I
seek to understand and fully appreciate, I cannot do better than, for a
time, to adopt their garb, their language, and their customs."
"But all this did not prevent you, my lord, last night (in that
abominable place where we went to unkennel Bras Rouge, in hopes of
getting out of him some particulars relative to that unhappy son of
Madame Georges), from being angry, and ready to quarrel with me, because
I wished to aid in your tussle with the rascal you encountered in that
horrid cut-throat alley."
"I suppose, then, Murphy, you do not think I am capable of defending
myself, and you either doubt my courage or the strength of my arm?"
"Unfortunately, you have given me too many reasons to form a contrary
opinion of both. Thank God! Flatman, the Bertrand of Germany, perfected
you in the knowledge of fencing; Tom Cribb taught you to box; Lacour, of
Paris, accomplished you in single-stick, wrestling, and slang, so as to
render you fully provided for your venturesome excursions. You are bold
as a lion, with muscles like iron, and, though so slight in form, I
should have no more chance with you than a dray-horse would against a
racer, were they to compete with each other. No mistake about that."
"Then what are you afraid of?"
"Why, I maintain, my lord, that it is not the right thing for you to
throw yourself in the way of all these blackguards. I do not say that
because of the nuisance it is to a highly respectable individual of my
acquaintance to blacken his face with charcoal, and make himself look
like a devil. No, God knows, spite of my age, my figure, and my gravity,
I would disguise myself as a rope-dancer, if, by so doing, I could serve
you. But I still stick to what I say, and--"
"Oh! I know all you would say, my excellent old fellow, and that when
once you have taken an idea into your thick skull, the very devil
himself could no more drive it out of you than he could, by all his
arts, remove the fidelity and devotion implanted in your brave and
valiant heart."
"Come, come, my lord, now you begin to flatter me, I suspect you are up
to some fresh mischief."
"Think no such thing, Murphy; give yourself no uneasiness, but leave all
to me."
"My lord, I cannot be easy; there is some new folly in hand, and I am
sure of it."
"My good friend, you mean well; but you are choosing a very ill hour for
your lectures; forbear, I beg."
"And why, my lord, can you not listen to me now, as well as any other
time?"
"Because you are interfering with one of my short-lived moments of pride
and happiness. I am here, in this dear spot!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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