The History of Pendennis

by William Makepeace Thackeray

  CHAPTER XLVII. Monseigneur s'amuse

  The exertions of that last night at Gaunt House had proved almost toomuch for Major Pendennis; and as soon as he could move his weary oldbody with safety, he transported himself groaning to Buxton, and soughtrelief in the healing waters of that place. Parliament broke up. SirFrancis Clavering and family left town, and the affairs which we havejust mentioned to the reader were not advanced, in the brief intervalof a few days or weeks which have occurred between this and the lastchapter. The town was, however, emptied since then.

  The season was now come to a conclusion: Pen's neighbours, the lawyers,were gone upon circuit: and his more fashionable friends had taken theirpassports for the Continent, or had fled for health or excitement tothe Scotch moors. Scarce a man was to be seen in the bow-windows ofthe Clubs, or on the solitary Pall Mall pavement. The red jackets haddisappeared from before the Palace-gate: the tradesmen of St. James'swere abroad taking their pleasure: the tailors had grown mustachios andwere gone up the Rhine: the bootmakers were at Ems or Baden, blushingwhen they met their customers at those places of recreation, or puntingbeside their creditors at the gambling-tables: the clergymen of St.James's only preached to half a congregation, in which there was not asingle sinner of distinction: the band in Kensington Gardens had shut uptheir instruments of brass and trumpets of silver: only two or three oldflies and chaises crawled by the banks of the Serpentine; and ClarenceBulbul, who was retained in town by his arduous duties as a Treasuryclerk, when he took his afternoon ride in Rotten Row, compared itsloneliness to the vastness of the Arabian desert and himself to aBedouin wending his way through that dusty solitude. Warrington stowedaway a quantity of Cavendish tobacco in his carpet-bag, and betookhimself, as his custom was in the vacation, to his brother's house inNorfolk. Pen was left alone in chambers for a while, for this man offashion could not quit the metropolis when he chose always: and was atpresent detained by the affairs of his newspaper, the Pall Mall Gazette,of, which he acted as the editor and charge d'affaires during thetemporary absence of the chief, Captain Shandon, who was with his familyat the salutary watering-place of Boulogne-sur-Mer.

  Although, as we have seen, Mr. Pen had pronounced himself for years pastto be a man perfectly blase and wearied of life, yet the truth is thathe was an exceedingly healthy young fellow still: with a fine appetite,which he satisfied with the greatest relish and satisfaction at leastonce a day; and a constant desire for society, which showed him to beanything but misanthropical. If he could not get a good dinner he satedown to a bad one with perfect contentment; if he could not procurethe company of witty or great or beautiful persons, he put up withany society that came to hand; and was perfectly satisfied in atavern-parlour or on board a Greenwich steamboat, or in a jaunt toHampstead with Mr. Finucane, his colleague at the Pall Mall Gazette;or in a visit to the summer theatres across the river; or to the RoyalGardens of Vauxhall, where he was on terms of friendship with the greatSimpson, and where he shook the principal comic singer of the lovelyequestrian of the arena by the hand. And while he could watch thegrimaces or the graces of these with a satiric humour that was notdeprived of sympathy, he could look on with an eye of kindness at thelookers-on too; at the roystering youth bent upon enjoyment, and heretaking it: at the honest parents, with their delighted children laughingand clapping their hands at the show: at the poor outcasts, whoselaughter was less innocent though perhaps louder, and who brought theirshame and their youth here, to dance and be merry till the dawn atleast; and to get bread and drown care. Of this sympathy with allconditions of men Arthur often boasted: said he was pleased to possessit: and that he hoped thus to the last he should retain it. As anotherman has an ardour for art or music, or natural science, Mr. Pen saidthat anthropology was his favourite pursuit; and had his eyes alwayseagerly open to its infinite varieties and beauties: contemplatingwith an unfailing delight all specimens of it in all places to whichhe resorted, whether it was the coquetting of a wrinkled dowager ina ballroom, or a high-bred young beauty blushing in her prime there;whether it was a hulking guardsman coaxing a servant-girl in thePark--or innocent little Tommy that was feeding the ducks whilst thenurse listened. And indeed a man whose heart is pretty clean, canindulge in this pursuit with an enjoyment that never ceases, and is onlyperhaps the more keen because it is secret and has a touch of sadness init: because he is of his mood and humour lonely, and apart although notalone.

  Yes, Pen used to brag and talk in his impetuous way to Warrington. "Iwas in love so fiercely in my youth, that I have burned out that flamefor ever, I think, and if ever I marry, it will be a marriage of reasonthat I will make, with a well-bred, good-tempered, good-looking personwho has a little money, and so forth, that will cushion our carriage inits course through life. As for romance, it is all done; I have spentthat out, and am old before my time--I'm proud of it."

  "Stuff!" growled the other, "you fancied you were getting bald the otherday, and bragged about it as you do about everything. But you began touse the bear's-grease pot directly the hairdresser told you; and arescented like a barber ever since."

  "You are Diogenes," the other answered, "and you want every man to livein a tub like yourself. Violets smell better than stale tobacco, yougrizzly old cynic." But Mr. Pen was blushing whilst he made this replyto his unromantical friend, and indeed cared a great deal more abouthimself still than such a philosopher perhaps should have done. Indeed,considering that he was careless about the world, Mr. Pen ornamented hisperson with no small pains in order to make himself agreeable to it, andfor a weary pilgrim as he was, wore very tight boots and bright varnish.

  It was in this dull season of the year, then, of a shining Friday nightin autumn, that Mr. Pendennis, having completed at his newspaper officea brilliant leading article--such as Captain Shandon himself might havewritten, had the Captain been in good-humour, and inclined to work,which he never would do except under compulsion--that Mr. ArthurPendennis having written his article, and reviewed it approvingly asit lay before him in its wet proof-sheet at the office of the paper,bethought him that he would cross the water, and regale himself withthe fireworks and other amusements of Vauxhall. So he affably put in hispocket the order which admitted "Editor of Pall Mall Gazette and friend"to that place of recreation, and paid with the coin of the realm asufficient sum to enable him to cross Waterloo Bridge. The walk thenceto the Gardens was pleasant, the stars were shining in the skies above,looking down upon the royal property, whence the rockets and Romancandles had not yet ascended to outshine the stars.

  Before you enter the enchanted ground, where twenty thousand additionallamps are burned every night as usual, most of us have passed throughthe black and dreary passage and wickets which hide the splendours ofVauxhall from uninitiated men. In the walls of this passage are twoholes strongly illuminated, in the midst of which you see twogentlemen at desks, where they will take either your money as a privateindividual, or your order of admission if you are provided withthat passport to the Gardens. Pen went to exhibit his ticket at thelast-named orifice, where, however, a gentleman and two ladies werealready in parley before him.

  The gentleman, whose hat was very much on one side, and who wore a shortand shabby cloak in an excessively smart manner, was crying out in avoice which Pen at once recognised.

  "Bedad, sir, if ye doubt me honour, will ye obleege me by stipping outof that box, and----"

  "Lor, Capting!" cried the elder lady.

  "Don't bother me," said the man in the box.

  "And ask Mr. Hodgen himself, who's in the gyardens, to let these leediespass. Don't be froightened, me dear madam, I'm not going to quarl withthis gintleman, at anyreet before leedies. Will ye go, sir, and desoireMr. Hodgen (whose orther I keem in with, and he's me most intematefriend, and I know he's goan to sing the 'Body Snatcher' hereto-noight), with Captain Costigan's compliments, to stip out and letin the leedies--for meself, sir, I've seen Vauxhall, and I scawrun anyinterfayrance on moi account: but for these leedies, one of them hasnever been there,
and of should think ye'd harly take advantage of memisfartune in losing the ticket, to deproive her of her pleasure."

  "It ain't no use, Captain. I can't go about your business," thecheck-taker said; on which the Captain swore an oath, and the elder ladysaid, "Lor, ow provokin!"

  As for the young one, she looked up at the Captain and said, "Nevermind, Captain Costigan, I'm sure I don't want to go at all. Come away,mamma." And with this, although she did not want to go at all, herfeelings overcame her, and she began to cry.

  "Me poor child!" the Captain said. "Can ye see that, sir, and will yenot let this innocent creature in?"

  "It ain't my business," cried the doorkeeper, peevishly, out of theilluminated box. And at this minute Arthur came up, and recognisingCostigan, said, "Don't you know me, Captain? Pendennis!" And he took offhis hat and made a bow to the two ladies. "Me dear boy! Me dear friend!"cried the Captain, extending towards Pendennis the grasp of friendship;and he rapidly explained to the other what he called "a most unluckeeconthratong." He had an order for Vauxhall, admitting two, from Mr.Hodgen, then within the Gardens, and singing (as he did at the BackKitchen and the nobility's concerts, the 'Body Snatcher,' the 'Death ofGeneral Wolfe,' the 'Banner of Blood,' and other favourite melodies);and, having this order for the admission of two persons, he thought thatit would admit three, and had come accordingly to the Gardens withhis friends. But, on his way, Captain Costigan had lost the paper ofadmission--it was not forthcoming at all; and the leedies must go backagain, to the great disappointment of one of them, as Pendennis saw.

  Arthur had a great deal of good-nature for everybody, and sympathisedwith the misfortunes of all sorts of people: how could he refuse hissympathy in such a case as this? He had seen the innocent face as itlooked up to the Captain, the appealing look of the girl, the piteousquiver of the mouth, and the final outburst of tears. If it had been hislast guinea in the world, he must have paid it to have given the poorlittle thing pleasure. She turned the sad imploring eyes awaydirectly they lighted upon a stranger, and began to wipe them with herhandkerchief. Arthur looked very handsome and kind as he stood beforethe women, with his hat off, blushing, bowing, generous, a gentleman."Who are they?" he asked of himself. He thought he had seen the elderlady before.

  "If I can be of any service to you, Captain Costigan," the young mansaid, "I hope you will command me; is there any difficulty about takingthese ladies into the garden? Will you kindly make use of my purse?And--and I have a ticket myself which will admit two--I hope, ma'am, youwill permit me?"

  The first impulse of the Prince of Fairoaks was to pay for the wholeparty, and to make away with his newspaper order as poor Costigan haddone with his own ticket. But his instinct, and the appearance of thetwo women, told him that they would be better pleased if he did notgive himself the airs of a grand seigneur, and he handed his purse toCostigan, and laughingly pulled out his ticket with one hand, ashe offered the other to the elder of the ladies--ladies was not theword--they had bonnets and shawls, and collars and ribbons, and theyoungest showed a pretty little foot and boot under her modest greygown, but his Highness of Fairoaks was courteous to every person whowore a petticoat whatever its texture was, and the humbler the wearer,only the more stately and polite in his demeanour.

  "Fanny, take the gentleman's arm," the elder said; "Since you will beso very kind--I've seen you often come in at our gate, sir, and go in toCaptain Strong's at No. 3."

  Fanny made a little curtsey, and put her hand under Arthur's arm. Ithad on a shabby little glove, but it was pretty and small. She was not achild, but she was scarcely a woman as yet; her tears had dried up, andher cheek mantled with youthful blushes, and her eyes glistened withpleasure and gratitude, as she looked up into Arthur's kind face.

  Arthur, in a protecting way, put his other hand upon the little oneresting on his arm. "Fanny's a very pretty little name," he said, "andso you know me, do you?"

  "We keep the lodge, sir, at Shepherd's Inn," Fanny said with a curtsey;"and I've never been at Vauxhall, sir, and Papa didn't like me togo--and--and--O--O--law, how beautiful!" She shrank back as she spoke,starting with wonder and delight as she saw the Royal Gardens blazebefore her with a hundred million of lamps, with a splendour such as thefinest fairy tale, the finest pantomime she had ever witnessed at thetheatre, had never realised. Pen was pleased with her pleasure, andpressed to his side the little hand which clung so kindly to him. "Whatwould I not give for a little of this pleasure?" said the blase youngman.

  "Your purse, Pendennis, me dear boy," said the Captain's voice behindhim. "Will ye count it? it's all roight--no--ye thrust in old JackCostigan (he thrusts me, ye see, madam). Ye've been me preserver, Pen(I've known um since choildhood, Mrs. Bolton; he's the proproietor ofFairoaks Castle, and many's the cooper of clart I've dthrunk there withthe first nobilitee of his neetive countee),--Mr. Pendennis, ye'vebeen me preserver, and of thank ye; me daughtther will thank ye;--Mr.Simpson, your humble servant sir."

  If Pen was magnificent in his courtesy to the ladies, what was hissplendour in comparison to Captain Costigan's bowing here and there, andcrying bravo to the singers?

  A man, descended like Costigan, from a long line of Hibernian kings,chieftains, and other magnates and sheriffs of the county, had of coursetoo much dignity and self-respect to walk arrum-in-arrum (as the Captainphrased it) with a lady who occasionally swept his room out, and cookedhis mutton-chops. In the course of their journey from Shepherd's Innto Vauxhall Gardens, Captain Costigan had walked by the side of the twoladies, in a patronising and affable manner pointing out to them theedifices worthy of note, and discoorsing, according to his wont, aboutother cities and countries which he had visited, and the people of rankand fashion with whom he had the honour of an acquaintance. Nor could itbe expected, nor, indeed, did Mrs. Bolton expect, that, arrived in theRoyal property, and strongly illuminated by the flare of the twentythousand additional lamps, the Captain could relax from his dignity, andgive an arm to a lady who was, in fact, little better than a housekeeperor charwoman.

  But Pen, on his part, had no such scruples. Miss Fanny Bolton did notmake his bed nor sweep his chambers; and he did not choose to let gohis pretty little partner. As for Fanny, her colour heightened, andher bright eyes shone the brighter with pleasure, as she leaned forprotection on the arm of such a fine gentleman as Mr. Pen. And shelooked at numbers of other ladies in the place, and at scores of othergentlemen under whose protection they were walking here and there; andshe thought that her gentleman was handsomer and grander-looking thanany other gent in the place. Of course there were votaries of pleasureof all ranks there--rakish young surgeons, fast young clerks andcommercialists, occasional dandies of the Guard regiments, and the rest.Old Lord Colchicum was there in attendance upon Mademoiselle Caracoline,who had been riding in the ring; and who talked her native French veryloud, and used idiomatic expressions of exceeding strength as she walkedabout, leaning on the arm of his lordship.

  Colchicum was in attendance upon Mademoiselle Carandine, little TomTufthunt was in attendance upon Lord Colchicum; and rather pleased, too,with his position. When Don Juan scalles the wall, there's never a wantof a Leporello to hold the ladder. Tom Tufthunt was quite happy to actas friend to the elderly viscount, and to carve the fowl, and to makethe salad at supper. When Pen and his young lady met the Viscount'sparty, that noble poor only gave Arthur a passing leer of recognitionas his lordship's eyes passed from Pen's face under the bonnet of Pen'scompanion. But Tom Tufthunt wagged his head very good-naturedly at Mr.Arthur, and said, "How are you, old boy?" and looked extremely knowingat the godfather of this history.

  "That is the great rider at Astley's; I have seen her there," MissBolton said, looking after Mademoiselle Caracoline; "and who is that oldman? is it not the gentleman in the ring!"

  "That is Lord Viscount Colchicum, Miss Fanny," said Pen with an airof protection. He meant no harm; he was pleased to patronise the younggirl, and he was not displeased that she should be so pretty, and thatshe should be hanging up
on his arm, and that yonder elderly Don Juanshould have seen her there.

  Fanny was very pretty; her eyes were dark and brilliant, her teethwere like little pearls; her mouth was almost as red as MademoiselleCaracoline's when the latter had put on her vermilion. And what adifference there was between the one's voice and the other's, betweenthe girl's laugh and the woman's! It was only very lately, indeed,that Fanny, when looking in the little glass over the Bows-Costiganmantelpiece as she was dusting it had begun to suspect that she was abeauty. But a year ago, she was a clumsy, gawky girl, at whom herfather sneered, and of whom the girls at the day-school (Miss Minifer's,Newcastle Street, Strand; Miss M., the younger sister, took the leadingbusiness at the Norwich circuit in 182--; and she herself had played fortwo seasons with some credit T. R. E. O., T. R. S. W., until she felldown a trap-door and broke her leg); the girls at Fanny's school, wesay, took no account of her, and thought her a dowdy little creatureas long as she remained under Miss Minifer's instruction. And it wasunremarked and almost unseen in the porter's dark lodge of Shepherd'sInn, that this little flower bloomed into beauty.

  So this young person hung upon Mr. Pen's arm, and they paced the gardenstogether, Empty as London was, there were still some two millions ofpeople left lingering about it, and amongst them, one or two of theacquaintances of Mr. Arthur Pendennis.

  Amongst them, silent and alone, pale, with his hands in his pockets, anda rueful nod of the head to Arthur as they met, passed Henry Foker, Esq.Young Henry was trying to ease his mind by moving from place to place,and from excitement to excitement. But he thought about Blanche as hesauntered in the dark walks; he thought about Blanche as he looked atthe devices of the lamps. He consulted the fortune-teller about her,and was disappointed when that gipsy told him that he was in love with adark lady who would make him happy; and at the concert, though Mr.Momus sang his most stunning comic songs, and asked his most astonishingriddles, never did a kind smile come to visit Foker's lips. In fact, henever heard Mr. Momus at all.

  Pen and Miss Bolton were hard by listening to the same concert, and thelatter remarked, and Pen laughed at Mr. Foker's woebegone face.

  Fanny asked what it was that made that odd-looking little man so dismal?"I think he is crossed in love!" Pen, said. "Isn't that enough to makeany man dismal, Fanny?" And he looked down at her, splendidly protectingher, like Egmont at Clara in Goethe's play, or Leicester at Amy inScott's novel.

  "Crossed in love is he? poor gentleman," said Fanny with a sigh, andher eyes turned round towards him with no little kindness and pity--butHarry did not see the beautiful dark eyes.

  "How dy do, Mr. Pendennis!"--a voice broke in here--it was that of ayoung man in a large white coat with a red neckcloth, over which a dingyshirt-collar was turned so as to exhibit a dubious neck--with a largepin of bullion or other metal, and an imaginative waistcoat withexceedingly fanciful glass buttons, and trousers that cried with a loudvoice, "Come look at me and see how cheap and tawdry I am; my master,what a dirty buck!" and a little stick in one pocket of his coat, and alady in pink satin on the other arm--"How dy do--Forget me, I dare say?Huxter,--Clavering."

  "How do you do, Mr. Huxter," the Prince of Fairoaks said in his mostprincely manner--"I hope you are very well."

  "Pretty bobbish, thanky."--And Mr. Huxter wagged his head. "I say,Pendennis, you've been coming it uncommon strong since we had the rowat Wapshot's, don't you remember. Great author, hay? Go about with theswells. Saw your name in the Morning Post. I suppose you're too muchof a swell to come and have a bit of supper with an oldfriend?--Charterhouse Lane to-morrow night,--some devilish good fellowsfrom Bartholomew's, and some stunning gin-punch. Here's my card." Andwith this Mr. Huxter released his hand from the pocket where his canewas, and pulling off the top of his card-case with his teeth producedthence a visiting ticket, which he handed to Pen.

  "You are exceedingly kind, I am sure," said Pen: "but I regret that Ihave an engagement which will take me out of town to-morrow night." Andthe Marquis of Fairoaks, wondering that such a creature as this couldhave the audacity to give him a card, put Mr. Huxter's card into hiswaistcoat pocket with a lofty courtesy. Possibly Mr. Samuel Huxter wasnot aware that there was any great social difference between Mr. ArthurPendennis and himself. Mr. Huxter's father was a surgeon and apothecaryat Clavering just as Mr. Pendennis's papa had been a surgeon andapothecary at Bath. But the impudence of some men is beyond allcalculation.

  "Well, old fellow, never mind," said Mr. Huxter, who, always frank andfamiliar, was from vinous excitement even more affable than usual. "Ifever you are passing, look up our place, I'm mostly at home Saturdays;and there's generally a cheese cupboard. Ta, ta.--There's the bell forthe fireworks ringing. Come along, Mary." And he set off running withthe rest of the crowd in the direction of the fireworks.

  So did Pen presently, when this agreeable youth was out of sight, beginto run with his little companion; Mrs. Bolton following after them,with Captain Costigan at her side. But the Captain was too majestic anddignified in his movements to run for friend or enemy, and he pursuedhis course with the usual jaunty swagger which distinguished his steps,so that he and his companion were speedily distanced by Pen and MissFanny.

  Perhaps Arthur forgot, or perhaps he did not choose to remember, thatthe elder couple had no money in their pockets, as had been proved bytheir adventure at the entrance of the Gardens; howbeit, Pen paid acouple of shillings for himself and his partner, and with her hangingclose on his arm, scaled the staircase which leads to the fireworkgallery. The Captain and mamma might have followed them if they liked,but Arthur and Fanny were too busy to look back. People were pushing andsqueezing there beside and behind them. One eager individual rushed byFanny, and elbowed her so, that she fell back with a little cry, uponwhich, of course, Arthur caught her adroitly in his arms, and, just forprotection, kept her so defended, until they mounted the stair, and tooktheir places.

  Poor Foker sate alone on one of the highest benches, his faceilluminated by the fireworks, or in their absence by the moon. Arthursaw him, and laughed, but did not occupy himself about his friend much.He was engaged with Fanny. How she wondered! how happy she was! how shecried O, O, O, as the rockets soared into the air, and showered downin azure, and emerald, and vermilion! As these wonders blazed anddisappeared before her, the little girl thrilled and trembled withdelight at Arthur's side--her hand was under his arm still, he felt itpressing him as she looked up delighted.

  "How beautiful they are, sir!" she cried.

  "Don't call me sir, Fanny," Arthur said.

  A quick blush rushed up into the girl's face. "What shall I call you?"she said, in a low voice, sweet and tremulous. "What would you wish meto say, sir?"

  "Again, Fanny! Well, I forgot; it is best so, my dear," Pendennis said,very kindly and gently. "I may call you Fanny?"

  "Oh yes!" she said, and the little hand pressed his arm once more veryeagerly, and the girl clung to him so that he could feel her heartbeating on his shoulder.

  "I may call you Fanny, because you are a young girl, and a good girl,Fanny, and I am an old gentleman. But you mustn't call me anythingbut sir, or Mr. Pendennis, if you like; for we live in very differentstations, Fanny; and don't think I speak unkindly; and--and why do youtake your hand away, Fanny? Are you afraid of me? Do you think I wouldhurt you? Not for all the world, my dear little girl. And--and look howbeautiful the moon and stars are, and how calmly they shine when therockets have gone out, and the noisy wheels have done hissing andblazing. When I came here to-night I did not think I should have hadsuch a pretty little companion to sit by my side, and see these finefireworks. You must know I live by myself, and work very hard. I writein books and newspapers, Fanny; and I quite tired out, and was expectedto sit alone all night; and--don't cry, my dear, dear, little girl."Here Pen broke out, rapidly putting an end to the calm oration which hehad begun to deliver; for the sight of a woman's tears always put hisnerves in a quiver, and he began forthwith to coax her and sootheher, and to utter a hundred and twenty
little ejaculations of pity andsympathy, which need not be repeated here, because they would be absurdin print. So would a mother's talk to a child be absurd in print;so would a lover's to his bride. That sweet artless poetry bears notranslation; and is too subtle for grammarians' clumsy definitions. Youhave but the same four letters to describe the salute which you performon your grandmother's forehead, and that which you bestow on the sacredcheek of your mistress; but the same four letters, and not one of them alabial. Do we mean to hint that r. Arthur Pendennis made any use of themonosyllable in question? Not so. In the first place, it was dark: thefireworks were over, and nobody could see him; secondly, he was not aman to have this kind of secret, and tell it; thirdly and lastly, letthe honest fellow who has kissed a pretty girl, say what would have beenhis own conduct in such a delicate juncture?

  Well, the truth is, that however you may suspect him, and whatever youwould have done under the circumstances, or Mr. Pen would have likedto do, he behaved honestly, and like a man. "I will not play with thislittle girl's heart," he said within himself, "and forget my own orher honour. She seems to have a great deal of dangerous and rathercontagious sensibility, and I am very glad the fireworks are over, andthat I can take her back to her mother. Come along, Fanny; mind thesteps, and lean on me. Don't stumble, you heedless little thing; this isthe way, and there is your mamma at the door."

  And there, indeed, Mrs. Bolton was, unquiet in spirit, and grasping herumbrella. She seized Fanny with maternal fierceness and eagerness, anduttered some rapid abuse to the girl in an undertone. The expressionin Captain Costigan's eye--standing behind the matron and winkingat Pendennis from under his hat--was, I am bound to say, indefinablyhumorous.

  It was so much so, that Pen could not refrain from bursting into alaugh. "You should have taken my arm, Mrs. Bolton," he said, offeringit. "I am very glad to bring Miss Fanny back quite safe to you. Wethought you would have followed us up into the gallery. We enjoyed thefireworks, didn't we?"

  "Oh yes!" said Miss Fanny, with rather a demure look.

  "And the bouquet was magnificent," said Pen. "And it is ten hours sinceI had anything to eat, ladies; and I wish you would permit me to inviteyou to supper."

  "Dad," said Costigan, "I'd loike a snack to; only I forgawt me purse, orI should have invoited these leedies to a collection."

  Mrs. Bolton with considerable asperity said, She ad an eadache, andwould much rather go ome.

  "A lobster salad is the best thing in the world for a headache," Pensaid gallantly, "and a glass of wine I'm sure will do you good. Come,Mrs. Bolton, be kind to me and oblige me. I shan't have the heart to supwithout you, and upon my word I have had no dinner. Give me your arm:give me the umbrella. Costigan, I'm sure you'll take care of Miss Fanny;and I shall think Mrs. Bolton angry with me, unless she will favourme with her society. And we will all sup quietly, and go back in a cabtogether."

  The cab, the lobster salad, the frank and good-humoured look ofPendennis, as he smilingly invited the worthy matron, subdued hersuspicions and her anger. Since he would be so obliging, she thought shecould take a little bit of lobster, and so they all marched away to abox; and Costigan called for a waither with such a loud and belligerentvoice, as caused one of those officials instantly to run to him.

  The carte was examined on the wall, and Fanny was asked to choose herfavourite dish; upon which the young creature said she was fond oflobster, too, but also owned to a partiality for raspberry tart. Thisdelicacy was provided by Pen, and a bottle of the most frisky champagnewas moreover ordered for the delight of the ladies. Little Fanny drankthis;--what other sweet intoxication had she not drunk in the course ofthe night?

  When the supper, which was very brisk and gay, was over, and CaptainCostigan and Mrs. Bolton had partaken of some of the rack-punch that isso fragrant at Vauxhall, the bill was called and discharged by Pen withgreat generosity,--"loike a foin young English gentleman of th' oldentoime, be Jove," Costigan enthusiastically remarked. And as, when theywent out of the box, he stepped forward and gave Mrs. Bolton his arm,Fanny fell to Pen's lot, and the young people walked away in highgood-humour together, in the wake of their seniors.

  The champagne and the rack-punch, though taken in moderation by allpersons, except perhaps poor Cos, who lurched ever so little in hisgait, had set them in high spirits and good-humour, so that Fanny beganto skip and move her brisk little feet in time to the band, which wasplaying waltzes and galops for the dancers. As they came up to thedancing, the music and Fanny's feet seemed to go quicker together--sheseemed to spring, as if naturally, from the ground, and as if sherequired repression to keep her there.

  "Shouldn't you like a turn?" said the Prince of Fairoaks. "What fun itwould be! Mrs. Bolton, ma'am, do let me take her once round." Upon whichMr. Costigan said, "Off wid you!" and Mrs. Bolton not refusing (indeed,she was an old war-horse, and would have liked, at the trumpet's sound,to have entered the arena herself), Fanny's shawl was off her back in aminute, and she and Arthur were whirling round in a waltz in the midstof a great deal of queer, but exceedingly joyful company.

  Pen had no mishap this time with little Fanny, as he had with MissBlanche in old days,--at least, there was no mishap of his making. Thepair danced away with great agility and contentment,--first a waltz,then a galop, then a waltz again, until, in the second waltz, they werebumped by another couple who had joined the Terpsichorean choir. Thiswas Mr. Huxter and his pink satin young friend, of whom we have alreadyhad a glimpse.

  Mr. Huxter very probably had been also partaking of supper, for he waseven more excited now than at the time when he had previously claimedPen's acquaintance; and, having run against Arthur and his partner,and nearly knocked them down, this amiable gentleman of course beganto abuse the people whom he had injured, and broke out into a volley ofslang against the unoffending couple. "Now then, stoopid! Don't keep theground if you can't dance, old Slow Coach!" the young surgeon roared out(using, at the same time, other expressions far more emphatic), and wasjoined in his abuse by the shrill language and laughter of his partner;to the interruption of the ball, the terror of poor little Fanny, andthe immense indignation of Pen.

  Arthur was furious; and not so angry at the quarrel as at the shameattending it. A battle with a fellow like that! A row in a publicgarden, and with a porter's daughter on his arm! What a position forArthur Pendennis! He drew poor little Fanny hastily away from thedancers to her mother, and wished that lady, and Costigan, and poorFanny underground, rather than there, in his companionship, and underhis protection.

  When Huxter commenced his attack, that free-spoken young gentleman hadnot seen who was his opponent; and directly he was aware that it wasArthur whom he had insulted, he began to make apologies. "Hold yourstoopid tongue, Mary," he said to his partner. "It's an old friend andcrony at home. I beg pardon, Pendennis; wasn't aware it was you, oldboy." Mr. Huxter had been one of the boys of the Clavering School, whohad been present at a combat which has been mentioned in the early partof this story, when young Pen knocked down the biggest champion of theacademy, and Huxter knew that it was dangerous to quarrel with Arthur.

  His apologies were as odious to the other as his abuse had been. Penstopped his tipsy remonstrance, by telling him to hold his tongue, anddesiring him not to use his (Pendennis's) name in that place or anyother; and he walked out of the gardens with a titter behind him fromthe crowd, every one of whom he would have liked to massacre for havingbeen witness to the degrading broil. He walked out of the gardens, quiteforgetting poor little Fanny, who came trembling behind him with hermother and the stately Costigan.

  He was brought back to himself by a word from the Captain, who touchedhim on the shoulder just as they were passing the inner gate.

  "There's no ray-admittance except ye pay again," the Captain said."Hadn't I better go back and take the fellow your message?"

  Pen burst out laughing. "Take him a message! Do you think I would fightwith such a fellow as that?" he asked.

  "No, no! Don't, don't?" cried out littl
e Fanny. "How can you be sowicked, Captain Costigan?" The Captain muttered something about honour,and winked knowingly at Pen, but Arthur said gallantly, "No, Fanny,don't be frightened. It was my fault to have danced in such a place,--Ibeg your padon to have asked you to dance there." And he gave her hisarm once more, and called a cab, and put his three friends into it.

  He was about to pay the driver, and to take another carriage forhimself, when little Fanny, still alarmed, put her little hand out, andcaught him by the coat, and implored him and besought him to come in.

  "Will nothing satisfy you," said Pen, in great good-humour, "that I amnot going back to fight him? Well, I will come home with you. Driveto Shepherd's Inn, cab." The cab drove to its destination. Arthur wasimmensely pleased by the girl's solicitude about him: her tender terrorsquite made him forget his previous annoyance.

  Pen put the ladies into their lodge, having shaken hands kindly withboth of them; and the Captain again whispered to him that he wouldsee um in the morning if he was inclined, and take his message to that"scounthrel." But the Captain was in his usual condition when he madethe proposal; and Pen was perfectly sure that neither he nor Mr. Huxter,when they awoke, would remember anything about the dispute.