Charles Lever - The Daltons; Or, Three Roads In Life. Volume II

“Yes, yes, – I agree with you,” said Foglass; “she has reason to be sore about the Onslows’ treatment.”

“I said a bore, sir, – not sore,” screamed out Haggerstone.

“Ha!” replied the other, not understanding the correction. “I remember one day, when Townsend – ”

“D – n Townsend!” said Haggerstone.

“No, not Dan, – Tom Townsend. That fellow who was always with Mathews.”

“Walk a little quicker, and you may talk as much balderdash as you please,” said the other, buttoning up his coat, and resolving not to pay the slightest attention to his companion’s agreeability.

“Who is here?” asked Haggerstone, as he followed the servant up the stairs.

“Nobody but Count Petrolaffsky, sir.”

“Un Comte à bon compte,” muttered Haggerstone to himself, always pleased when he could be sarcastic, even in soliloquy. “They ‘ll find it no easy matter to get a tenant for this house nowadays. Florence is going down, sir, and will soon be little better than Boulogne-sur-Mer.”

“Very pleasant, indeed, for a month in summer,” responded Foglass, who had only caught up the last word. “Do you think of going there?”

“Going there!” shouted out the other, in a voice that made misconception impossible. “About as soon as I should take lodgings in Wapping for country air!”

This speech brought them to the door of the drawing-room, into which Haggerstone now entered, with that peculiar step which struck him as combining the jaunty slide of a man of fashion with the martial tread of an old soldier.

“Ha! my old adherents, – all my faithful ones!” sighed Mrs. Ricketts, giving a hand to each to kiss; and then, in a voice of deep emotion, she said, “Bless you both! May peace and happiness be beneath your roof-trees! joy sit beside your hearth!”

Haggerstone reddened a little; for, however alive to the ludicrous in his neighbors, he was marvellously sensitive as to having a part in the piece himself.

“You are looking quite yourself again,” said he, bluntly.

“The soul, indeed, is unchanged; the spirit – ”

“What’s become of Purvis?” broke in Haggerstone, who never gave any quarter to these poetic flights.

“You ‘ll see him presently. He has been so much fatigued and exhausted by this horrid police investigation, that he never gets up till late. I ‘ve put him on a course of dandelion and aconite, too; the first effect of which is always unpleasant.”

Leaving Foglass in conclave with the hostess, Haggerstone now approached the Count, who had for several times performed his toilet operation of running his hands through his hair, in expectation of being addressed.

“How d’ye do, – any piquet lately?” asked the Colonel, half cavalierly.

“As if I was tinking of piquet, wid my country in shains! How you can aske me dat?”

“What did you do with Norwood t’other night?” resumed the other, in a voice somewhat lower.

“Won four hundred and fifty, – but he no pay!”

“Nor ever will.”

“What you say? – not pay me what I wins!”

“Not a sou of it.”

“And dis you call English noblemans, – pair d’Angleterre!”

“Hush! Don’t be carried away by your feelings. Some men Norwood won’t pay because he does n’t know them. There are others he treats the same way because he does know them, – very equitable, eh?”

The observation seemed more intelligible to the Pole than polite, for he bit his lip and was silent, while Haggerstone went on, —

“He ‘s gone, and that, at least, is a point gained; and now that these Onslows have left this, and that cur Jekyl, we may expect a little quietness, for a while, at least; but here comes Purvis.” And that worthy individual was led in on Martha’s arm, a large green shade over his eyes, and his face plentifully sprinkled with flour.

“What’s the matter with you, man? you ‘re ‘got up’ like a ghost in a melodrama.”

“They ‘ve taken all the cuti-cuti-cuti – ”

“Call it skin, sir, and go on.”

“Sk-skin off my face with a lin-liniment,” cried he, “and I could sc-scream out with pain whenever I speak!”

“Balm of marigolds, with the essential oil of crab-apple,” said Martha. “I made it myself.”

“I wish to Hea-Heaven you had tr-tried it, too,” whispered he.

“Brother Scroope, you are ungrateful,” said Mrs. Ricketts, with the air of a Judge, charging. “The vicissitudes of temperature, here, require the use of astringents. The excessive heat of that police-court – ”

“By the way, how has that affair ended?” asked Haggerstone.

“I’ll tell you,” screamed out Purvis, in a burst of eagerness. “They ‘ve fi-fi-fiued me a hundred and f-f-fifty scadi for being w-where I never was, and fighting somebody I n-never saw.”

“You got off cheaply, sir. I ‘ve known’ a man sentenced to the galleys for less; and with a better character to boot,” muttered he to himself.

“Lord Norwood and the rest said that I was a pr-pr-principal, and he swore that he found me hiding in a cave.”

“And did he so?”

“Yes; but it was only out of curi-curi-curi – ”

“Curiosity, sir, like other luxuries, must be paid for; and, as you seem a glutton, your appetite may be expensive to you.”

“The mystery remains unsolved as to young Onslow, Colonel?” said Mrs. Ricketts, half in question.

“I believe not, madam. The explanation is very simple. The gallant guardsman, having heard of Guilmard’s skill, preferred being reported ‘missing’ to ‘killed,’ having previously arranged with Norwood to take his place. The price was, I fancy, a smart one, – some say five thousand, some call it ten. Whatever the amount, it has not been paid, and Norwood is furious.”

“But the accident?”

“As for that, madam, nothing more natural than to crack your skull when you lose your head.” And Haggerstone drew himself up with the proud consciousness of his own smartness.

“Then of course the poor young man is ruined?” observed Martha.

“I should say so, madam, – utterly ruined. He may figure on the committee of a Polish ball, but any other society would of course reject him.” This was said to obtain a sneer at Petrolaffsky, without his being able to guess why. “I believe I may say, without much fear of contradiction, that these Onslows were all humbugs! The old banker’s wealth, my lady’s refinement, the guardsman’s spirit, were all in the same category, – downright humbugs!”

“How he hates us, – how he detests the aristocracy!” said Mrs. Ricketts, in a whisper to the Pole.

“And de Dalton – what of her? – is she millionnaire?” asked Petrolaffsky.

“The father a small shopkeeper in Baden, sir; children’s toys, nut-crackers, and paper-knives being the staple of his riches. Foglass can tell you all about it. He wants to hear about those Daltons,” screamed he into the deaf man’s ear.

“Poor as Job – has n’t sixpence – lives ‘three-pair back,’ and dines for a ‘zwanziger.’ Lame daughter makes something by cutting heads for canes and umbrellas. He picks up a trifle about the hotels.”

“Ach Gott! and I was so near be in loaf wid de sister!” muttered the Pole.

“She is likely to d-d-do better, Count,” cackled in Purvis. “She caught her Tartar – ha, ha, ha!”

“Midchekoff doesn’t mean marriage, sir, depend upon it,” said Haggerstone.

“Martha, leave the room, my dear,” said Mrs. Ricketts, bridling. “He could no more relish a pleasure without a vice than he could dine without caviare.”

“But they are be-be-betrothed,” cried Purvis. “I saw a letter with an account of the ceremony. Midchekoff fitted up a beautiful chapel at his villa, and there was a Greek priest came sp-epecial from M-M-M-Moscow – ”