England -- Fiction; Humorous stories; Male friendship -- Fiction; Men -- Societies and clubs -- Fiction
This certainly was, to all appearance, very unaccountable behaviour; but
the fact is, that Mr. Pickwick no sooner put on his spectacles, than he
at once recognised in the future Mrs. Magnus the lady into whose room he
had so unwarrantably intruded on the previous night; and the spectacles
had no sooner crossed Mr. Pickwick’s nose, than the lady at once
identified the countenance which she had seen surrounded by all the
horrors of a nightcap. So the lady screamed, and Mr. Pickwick started.
‘Mr. Pickwick!’ exclaimed Mr. Magnus, lost in astonishment, ‘what is the
meaning of this, Sir? What is the meaning of it, Sir?’ added Mr. Magnus,
in a threatening, and a louder tone.
‘Sir,’ said Mr. Pickwick, somewhat indignant at the very sudden manner
in which Mr. Peter Magnus had conjugated himself into the imperative
mood, ‘I decline answering that question.’
‘You decline it, Sir?’ said Mr. Magnus.
‘I do, Sir,’ replied Mr. Pickwick; ‘I object to say anything which may
compromise that lady, or awaken unpleasant recollections in her breast,
without her consent and permission.’
‘Miss Witherfield,’ said Mr. Peter Magnus, ‘do you know this person?’
‘Know him!’ repeated the middle-aged lady, hesitating.
‘Yes, know him, ma’am; I said know him,’ replied Mr. Magnus, with
ferocity.
‘I have seen him,’ replied the middle-aged lady.
‘Where?’ inquired Mr. Magnus, ‘where?’
‘That,’ said the middle-aged lady, rising from her seat, and averting
her head--‘that I would not reveal for worlds.’
‘I understand you, ma’am,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘and respect your
delicacy; it shall never be revealed by _me_ depend upon it.’
‘Upon my word, ma’am,’ said Mr. Magnus, ‘considering the situation in
which I am placed with regard to yourself, you carry this matter off
with tolerable coolness--tolerable coolness, ma’am.’
‘Cruel Mr. Magnus!’ said the middle-aged lady; here she wept very
copiously indeed.
‘Address your observations to me, sir,’ interposed Mr. Pickwick; ‘I
alone am to blame, if anybody be.’
‘Oh! you alone are to blame, are you, sir?’ said Mr. Magnus; ‘I--I--see
through this, sir. You repent of your determination now, do you?’
‘My determination!’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘Your determination, Sir. Oh! don’t stare at me, Sir,’ said Mr. Magnus;
‘I recollect your words last night, Sir. You came down here, sir, to
expose the treachery and falsehood of an individual on whose truth and
honour you had placed implicit reliance--eh?’ Here Mr. Peter Magnus
indulged in a prolonged sneer; and taking off his green spectacles--
which he probably found superfluous in his fit of jealousy--rolled his
little eyes about, in a manner frightful to behold.
‘Eh?’ said Mr. Magnus; and then he repeated the sneer with increased
effect. ‘But you shall answer it, Sir.’
‘Answer what?’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘Never mind, sir,’ replied Mr. Magnus, striding up and down the room.
‘Never mind.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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