|
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 69
"_Habeas corpus_ be d----d!" said the officer, with an irreverent
disrespect to the palladium. "If you are not more civil, sir, I will
call the police, of whom we have plenty. You say you want to go out; you
are keeping everybody in."
And, in fact, at that moment the clear voice of the mayor was announcing
that they would not go on until there was perfect quiet; and I felt that
I was imprisoning all these people, not they me.
"Child of the Public," said my mourning genius, "are you better than
other men?" So I sneaked back to seat No. 3,671, amid the contemptuous
and reproachful looks and sneers of my more respectable neighbors, who
had sat where they were told to do. We must be through in a moment, and
perhaps Fausta would be late also. If only the Astor would keep open
after sunset! How often have I wished that since, and for less reasons!
Silence thus restored, Mr. A----, the mayor, led forward his little
daughter, blindfolded her, and bade her put her hand into a green box,
from which she drew out a green ticket. He took it from her, and read,
in his clear voice again, "No. 2,973!" By this time we all knew where
the "two thousands" sat. Then "nine hundreds" were not far from the
front, so that it was not far that that frightened girl, dressed all in
black, and heavily veiled, had to walk, who answered to this call. Mr.
A---- met her, helped her up the stair upon the stage, took from her her
ticket, and read, "Jerusha Stillingfleet, of Yellow Springs, who, at her
death, as it seems, transferred this right to the bearer."
The disappointed nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine joined in a
rapturous cheer, each man and woman, to show that he or she was not
disappointed. The bearer spoke with Mr. Burrham, in answer to his
questions, and, with a good deal of ostentation, he opened a check-book,
filled a check and passed it to her, she signing a receipt as she took
it, and transferring to him her ticket. So far, in dumb show, all was
well. What was more to my purpose, it was rapid, for we should have been
done in five minutes more, but that some devil tempted some loafer in a
gallery to cry, "Face! face!" Miss Stillingfleet's legatee was still
heavily veiled.
In one horrid minute that whole amphitheatre, which seemed to me then
more cruel than the Coliseum ever was, rang out with a cry of "Face,
face!" I tried the counter-cry of "Shame! shame!" but I was in disgrace
among my neighbors, and a counter-cry never takes as its prototype does,
either. At first, on the stage, they affected not to hear or understand;
then there was a courtly whisper between Mr. Burrham and the lady; but
Mr. A----, the mayor, and the respectable gentlemen, instantly
interfered. It was evident that she would not unveil, and that they were
prepared to indorse her refusal. In a moment more she courtesied to the
assembly; the mayor gave her his arm, and led her out through a
side-door.
O, the yell that rose up then! The whole assembly stood up, and, as if
they had lost some vested right, hooted and shrieked, "Back! back! Face!
face!" Mr. A---- returned, made as if he would speak, came forward to
the very front, and got a moment's silence.
"It is not in the bond, gentlemen," said he. "The young lady is
unwilling to unveil, and we must not compel her."
"Face! face!" was the only answer, and oranges from up stairs flew
about his head and struck upon the table,--an omen only fearful from
what it prophesied. Then there was such a row for five minutes as I hope
I may never see or hear again. People kept their places fortunately,
under a vague impression that they should forfeit some magic rights if
they left those numbered seats. But when, for a moment, a file of
policemen appeared in the orchestra, a whole volley of cyclop�dias fell
like rain upon their chief, with a renewed cry of "Face! face!"
At this juncture, with a good deal of knowledge of popular feeling, Mr.
A---- led forward his child again. Frightened to death the poor thing
was, and crying; he tied his handkerchief round her eyes hastily, and
took her to the red box. For a minute the house was hushed. A cry of
"Down! down!" and every one took his place as the child gave the red
ticket to her father. He read it as before, "No. 3,671!" I heard the
words as if he did not speak them. All excited by the delay and the row,
by the injustice to the stranger and the personal injustice of everybody
to me, I did not know, for a dozen seconds, that every one was looking
towards our side of the house, nor was it till my next neighbor with the
watch said, "Go, you fool," that I was aware that 3,671 was I! Even
then, as I stepped down the passage and up the steps, my only feeling
was, that I should get out of this horrid trap, and possibly find Miss
Jones lingering near the Astor,--not by any means that I was invited to
take a check for $5,000.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|