What Will He Do with It? — Volume 01Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
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What Will He Do with It? — Volume 01
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century
Vance could endure no more, and, forgetful of that gallantry which should
never desert the male sex, burst through the phalanx with an anathema,
blackening alike the beauty and the virtue of those on whom it fell, that
would have justified a cry of shame from every manly bosom, and which at
once changed into shrill wrath the supplicatory tones with which he had
been hitherto addressed. Down the street he hurried and down the street
followed the insulted fair. "Hiss--hiss--no gentleman, no gentleman!
Aha-skulk off--do--low blaggurd!" shrieked Polly. From their counters
shop-folks rushed to their doors. Stray dogs, excited by the clamour,
ran wildly after the fugitive man, yelping "in madding bray"! Vance,
fearing to be clawed by the females if he merely walked, sure to be
bitten by the dogs if he ran, ambled on, strove to look composed, and
carry his nose high in its native air, till, clearing the street, he saw
a hedgerow to the right; leaped it with an agility which no stimulus less
preternatural than that of self-preservation could have given to his
limbs, and then shot off like an arrow, and did not stop, till, out of
breath, he dropped upon the bench in the sheltering honeysuckle arbour.
Here he was still fanning himself with his cap, and muttering
unmentionable expletives, when he was joined by Lionel, who had tarried
behind to talk more about Sophy to the Cobbler, and who, unconscious that
the din which smote his ear was caused by his ill-starred friend, had
been enticed to go upstairs and look after Sophy in the crystal,--vainly.
When Vance had recited his misadventures, and Lionel had sufficiently
condoled with him, it became time for the latter to pay his share of the
bill, pack up his knapsack, and start for the train. Now, the station
could only be reached by penetrating the heart of the village, and Vance
swore that he had had enough of that. "Peste!" said he; "I should pass
right before No. 5 in the High Street, and the nuss and the babby will be
there on the threshold, like Virgil's picture of the infernal regions,
"'Infantumque anima; flentes in limine primo.'
We will take leave of each other here. I shall go by the boat to
Chertsey whenever I shall have sufficiently recovered my shaken nerves.
There are one or two picturesque spots to be seen in that neighbourhood.
In a few days I shall be in town! write to me there, and tell me how you
get on. Shake hands, and Heaven speed you. But, ah! now you have paid
your moiety of the bill, have you enough left for the train?"
"Oh, yes, the fare is but a few shillings; but, to be sure, a fly to
Fawley? I ought not to go on foot" (proudly); "and, too, supposing he
affronts me, and I have to leave his house suddenly? May I borrow a
sovereign? My mother will call and repay it."
VANCE (magnificently).--"There it is, and not much more left in my
purse,--that cursed Star and Garter! and those three pounds!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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