|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 54
_Nokes._ I shall do that when I've married the Montmorenci. [_She pricks
him._] Oh! oh!
_Susan._ I'm sure I hope as you'll be happy with her, sir; but you seem
so fond of old England that I doubt whether you ought not to have chosen
your wife from your native land. It seems a pity to be marrying in such
haste, just because your poor nephew--_pray_ don't speak, sir, or I
shall certainly run the needle into you--just because Mr. Charles has
gone and wedded the girl of his choice.
_Nokes [passionately]._ Hold your tongue, Susan! [_She pricks him
again._] Oh! oh!
_Susan._ There, sir, I told you what would happen. All I say is, I hope
you may not marry in haste to repent at leisure. A fortnight is such a
very short time to have known a lady before making her your bride.
There, sir; I think the button will keep on now.
_Nokes._ Then I'm off, Susan. But, before I go, I must express my thanks
to you for looking after me so attentively in this place. Here's a
five-pound note for you. [_Aside_] I could almost find it in my heart to
give her a kiss; but perhaps the Montmorenci wouldn't like it.
_Susan [gratefully]._ Oh, thank you, sir. May all happiness attend you,
sir! and when you're married yourself, sir, don't be too hard upon that
poor nephew of yours--
_Nokes [angrily]._ Be quiet. [_Exit hastily._]
_Susan [alone]._ Now, there's as kind-hearted an old gentleman as ever
lived,--and as good a one, too, if it was not for pigheadedness and
tantrums. The idea of a five-pound note merely for helping him to get
his victuals! He's been just like a baby in this 'ere 'otel, and I've
been a mother to him. He couldn't 'a' got a drop o' milk if it hadn't
been for me. Poor dear old soul! What a pity it is he should have such a
temper! He is taking a wife to-day solely to keep a hasty word uttered
agen his nephew and heir. Mademoiselle Constance de Montmorenci! ah,
I've heard of her before to-day. Nanette, the head-chambermaid here, was
once her lady's-maid. _She's_ known her for more than a fortnight.
Constance is a fine name, but it ain't quite the same as Constancy. Poor
Mr. Nokes! What a mistake it was in him to drive all thoughts of
matrimony off to the last, and then to come to Paris--of all places--to
do it! What a curious thing is sympathy! He met her in the tidal train,
and they were taken ill together on board the steamboat; that's how it
came about. Poor old soul! He deserves a better fate. [_Takes her broom
and leans on it reflectively._] Heigh-ho! His honest English face was
pleasant to look upon in this here outlandish spot; and none has been so
kind to me since my poor missis died and left me under this roof,
without money enough to pay my passage back to England. I was glad
enough to take service here; for why should I go back to a country where
there is not a soul to welcome me? And yet I should like to see dear old
England again, too. [_Tumult without. Mr. Nokes is seen rushing madly up
the court-yard. Tumult in the passage; French and English voices at high
pitch. Nokes without:_ Idiots! Frog-eaters! What is it I want? Nothing!
nothing but to see France sunk in the sea!]
_Enter NOKES (dishevelled and purple with passion, with an open
letter in his hand; bangs the door behind him)._
_Susan._ What is the matter, sir?
_Nokes._ Everything is the matter. You see this lily-white waistcoat;
you see these matrimonial does [_points to his trousers_], these
polished-leather boots, which are at this moment pinching me most
confoundedly, though I don't feel it, because I'm in such a passion:
well, they have been put on for nothing. I've been made a fool of by the
Montmorenci. But if there's justice in heaven,--that is, in Paris,--if
there's law in France, and blighted hopes are compensated in this
country as they are at home, the hussy shall smart for it. Directly I'm
married myself, I'll bring an action against her for breach of promise.
_Susan._ Married yourself, sir?
_Nokes._ Of course I'm going to be married,--at once,
immediately,--within the week. There's only a week left to the end of
the year. Do you suppose--does my nephew Charles suppose--no, for he
knows me better--that I am not going to keep my word? that because the
Montmorenci has played me false at the eleventh hour I am going to
remain a bachelor for seven days longer? Never, Susan, never! [_Walks
hastily up and down the room._]
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|