XI.
DICK SWIVELLER AND THE MARCHIONESS.
RICHARD SWIVELLER, a good-hearted, though somewhat queer young man, theclerk of Sampson Brass, a scheming lawyer, often found time hangingheavily on his hands; and for the better preservation of hischeerfulness therefore, and to prevent his faculties from rusting, heprovided himself with a cribbage-board and pack of cards, and accustomedhimself to play at cribbage with a dummy, for twenty, thirty, orsometimes even fifty thousand pounds a side, besides many hazardous betsto a considerable amount.
As these games were very silently conducted, notwithstanding thegreatness of the interests involved, Mr. Swiveller, began to think thaton those evenings when Mr. and Miss Brass were out (and they often wentout now) he heard a kind of snorting or hard-breathing sound in thedirection of the door, which it occurred to him, after some thought,must proceed from the small servant, who always had a cold from dampliving. Looking intently that way one night, he plainly distinguished aneye gleaming and glistening at the keyhole; and having now no doubt thathis suspicions were correct, he stole softly to the door and pouncedupon her before she was aware of his approach.
"Oh! I didn't mean any harm indeed. Upon my word I didn't," cried thesmall servant, struggling like a much larger one. "It's so very dulldown-stairs. Please don't you tell upon me; please don't."
"Tell upon you!" said Dick. "Do you mean to say you were looking throughthe keyhole for company?"
"Yes, upon my word I was," replied the small servant.
"How long have you been cooling your eye there?" said Dick.
"Oh, ever since you first began to play them cards, and long before."
Vague recollections of several fantastic exercises such as dancingaround the room, and bowing to imaginary people with which he hadrefreshed himself after the fatigues of business; all of which, nodoubt, the small servant had seen through the keyhole, made Mr.Swiveller feel rather awkward; but he was not very sensitive on suchpoints, and recovered himself speedily.
"Well--come in," he said, after a little thought. "Here--sit down, andI'll teach you how to play."
"Oh! I durstn't do it," rejoined the small servant. "Miss Sally 'ud killme, if she know'd I came up here."
"Have you got a fire down-stairs?" said Dick.
"A very little one," replied the small servant.
"Miss Sally couldn't kill me if she know'd I went down there, so I'llcome," said Richard, putting the cards into his pocket. "Why, how thinyou are! What do you mean by it?"
"It ain't my fault."
"Could you eat any bread and meat?" said Dick, taking down his hat."Yes? Ah! I thought so. Did you ever taste beer?"
"I had a sip of it once," said the small servant.
"Here's a state of things!" cried Mr. Swiveller, raising his eyes to theceiling. "She _never_ tasted it--it can't be tasted in a sip! Why, howold are you?"
"I don't know."
Mr. Swiveller opened his eyes very wide and appeared thoughtful for amoment; then, bidding the child mind the door until he came back,vanished straightway.
Presently he returned, followed by the boy from the public house, whobore in one hand a plate of bread and beef and in the other a great pot,filled with some very fragrant compound, which sent forth a gratefulsteam, and was indeed choice purl made after a particular rule which Mr.Swiveller had given to the landlord at a period when he was deep in hisbooks and desirous to win his friendship. Relieving the boy of hisburden at the door, and charging his little companion to fasten it toprevent surprise, Mr. Swiveller followed her into the kitchen.
"There!" said Richard, putting the plate before her. "First of all,clear that off, and then you'll see what's next."
The small servant needed no second bidding, and the plate was soonempty.
"Next," said Dick, handing the purl, "take a pull at that; but moderateyour delight, you know, for you're not used to it. Well, is it good?"
"Oh! isn't it?" said the small servant.
Mr. Swiveller appeared gratified beyond all expression by this reply,and took a long draught himself, steadfastly regarding his companionwhile he did so. These matters disposed of, he applied himself toteaching her the game, which she soon learnt tolerably well, being bothsharp-witted and cunning.
"Now," said Mr. Swiveller, putting two sixpences into a saucer, andtrimming the wretched candle, when the cards had been cut and dealt,"those are the stakes. If you win, you get 'em all. If I win, I get 'em.To make it seem more real and pleasant, I shall call you theMarchioness, do you hear?"
The small servant nodded.
"Marchioness," as the reader knows, is a title to a lady of very highrank, and such Mr. Swiveller chose to imagine this small servant to be.
"Then, Marchioness," said Mr. Swiveller, "fire away!"
The Marchioness, holding her cards very tight in both hands, consideredwhich to play, and Mr. Swiveller, assuming the gay and fashionable airwhich such society required, took another pull at the jug and waited forher to lead in the game.
Mr. Swiveller and his partner played several rubbers with varyingsuccess, until the loss of three sixpences, the gradual sinking of thepurl, and the striking of ten o'clock, combined to render that gentlemanmindful of the flight of time, and the wisdom of withdrawing before Mr.Sampson and Miss Sally Brass returned.
"With which object in view, Marchioness," said Mr. Swiveller gravely, "Ishall ask your ladyship's permission to put the board in my pocket, andto retire from the presence when I have finished this glass; merelyobserving, Marchioness, that since life like a river is flowing, I carenot how fast it rolls on, ma'am, on, while such purl on the bank stillis growing, and such eyes light the waves as they run. Marchioness, yourhealth! You will excuse my wearing my hat but the palace is damp, andthe marble floor is--if I may be allowed the expression--sloppy."
As a protection against this latter inconvenience Mr. Swiveller had beensitting for some time with his feet on the hob, in which attitude he nowgave utterance to these apologetic observations, and slowly sipped thelast choice drops of nectar.
"The Baron Sampsono Brasso and his fair sister are (you tell me) at thePlay?" said Mr. Swiveller, leaning his left arm heavily upon the table,and raising his voice and his right leg after the manner of a bandit inthe theater.
The Marchioness nodded.
"Ha!" said Mr. Swiveller with a portentous frown. "'Tis well,Marchioness!--but no matter. Some wine there. Ho!" He illustrated thesemelodramatic morsels by handing the glass to himself with greathumility, receiving it haughtily, drinking from it thirstily, andsmacking his lips fiercely.
The small servant, who was not so well acquainted with theatricalcustoms as Mr. Swiveller (having indeed never seen a play or heard onespoken of, except by some chance through chinks of doors and in otherforbidden places), was rather alarmed by demonstrations so strange intheir nature, and showed her concern so plainly in her looks that Mr.Swiveller felt it necessary to change his brigand manner for one moresuitable to private life, as he asked:
"Do they often go where glory waits 'em, and leave you here?"
"Oh, yes; I believe they do," returned the small servant. "Miss Sally'ssuch a one-er for that, she is."
"Such a what?" said Dick.
"Such a one-er," returned the Marchioness.
After a moment's reflection, Mr. Swiveller determined to forego hisresponsible duty of setting her right and to suffer her to talk on, asit was evident that her tongue was loosened by the purl and heropportunities for conversation were not so frequent as to render amomentary check of little consequence.
"They sometimes go to see Mr. Quilp," said the small servant with ashrewd look; "they go to a good many places, bless you."
"Is Mr. Brass a wunner?" said Dick.
"Not half what Miss Sally is, he isn't," replied the small servant,shaking her head. "Bless you, he'd never do anything without her."
"Oh! He wouldn't, wouldn't he?" said Dick.
"Miss Sally keeps him in such order," said the small servant; "he al
waysasks her advice, he does; and he catches it sometimes. Bless you, youwouldn't believe how much he catches it."
"I suppose," said Dick, "that they consult together a good deal, andtalk about a great many people--about me, for instance sometimes, eh,Marchioness?"
The Marchioness nodded amazingly.
"Do they speak of me in a friendly manner?" said Mr. Swiveller.
The Marchioness changed the motion of her head, which had not yet leftoff nodding, and suddenly began to shake it from side to side so hard asto threaten breaking her neck.
"Humph!" Dick muttered. "Would it be any breach of confidence,Marchioness, to relate what they say of the humble individual who hasnow the honor to----?"
"Miss Sally says you're a funny chap," replied his friend.
"Well, Marchioness," said Mr. Swiveller, "that's not uncomplimentary.Merriment, Marchioness, is not a bad or degrading quality. Old King Colewas himself a merry old soul, if we may put any faith in the pages ofhistory."
"But she says," pursued his companion, "that you ain't to be trusted."
"Why, really, Marchioness," said Mr. Swiveller thoughtfully; "severalladies and gentlemen--not exactly professional persons, buttradespeople, ma'am, tradespeople--have made the same remark. The personwho keeps the hotel over the way inclined strongly to that opinionto-night when I ordered him to prepare the banquet. It's a popularprejudice, Marchioness; and yet I am sure I don't know why, for I havebeen trusted in my time to a considerable amount, and I can safely saythat I never forsook my trust until it deserted me--never. Mr. Brass isof the same opinion, I suppose?"
His friend nodded again, with a cunning look which seemed to hint thatMr. Brass held stronger opinions on the subject than his sister; andseeming to recollect herself, added imploringly, "But don't you evertell upon me, or I shall be beat to death."
"Marchioness," said Mr. Swiveller, rising, "the word of a gentleman isas good as his bond--sometimes better; as in the present case, where hisbond might prove but a doubtful sort of security. I am your friend, andI hope we shall play many more rubbers together in the same saloon. But,Marchioness," added Richard, stopping on his way to the door, andwheeling slowly round upon the small servant, who was following with thecandle, "it occurs to me that you must be in the constant habit ofairing your eye at keyholes, to know all this."
"I only wanted," replied the trembling Marchioness, "to know where thekey of the safe was hid; that was all; and I wouldn't have taken much,if I had found it--only enough to squench my hunger."
"You didn't find it, then?" said Dick. "But of course you didn't, oryou'd be plumper. Good-night, Marchioness. Fare thee well, and ifforever, then forever fare thee well--and put up the chain, Marchioness,in case of accidents."
With this parting word, Mr. Swiveller came out from the house; andfeeling that he had by this time taken quite as much to drink aspromised to be good for his constitution (purl being a rather strong andheady compound), wisely resolved to betake himself to his lodgings, andto bed at once. Homeward he went therefore; and his apartments (for hestill spoke of his one little room as "apartments") being at no greatdistance from the office, he was soon seated in his own bed-chamber,where, having pulled off one boot and forgotten the other, he fell intodeep thought.
"This Marchioness," said Mr. Swiveller, folding his arms, "is a veryextraordinary person--surrounded by mysteries, ignorant of the taste ofbeer, unacquainted with her own name (which is less remarkable), andtaking a limited view of society through the keyholes of doors--canthese things be her destiny, or has some unknown person started anopposition to the decrees of fate? It is a most amazing staggerer!"
When his meditations had attained this satisfactory point, he becameaware of his remaining boot, of which, with great solemnity, heproceeded to divest himself; shaking his head with exceeding gravity allthe time, and sighing deeply.
"These rubbers," said Mr. Swiveller, putting on his nightcap in exactlythe same style as he wore his hat, "remind me of the matrimonialfireside. My old girl, Chegg's wife, plays cribbage; all-fours alike.She rings the changes on 'em now. From sport to sport they hurry her, tobanish her regrets, and when they win a smile from her, they think thatshe forgets--but she don't. By this time, I should say," added Richard,getting his left cheek into profile, and looking complacently at thereflection of a very little scrap of whisker in the looking-glass; "bythis time, I should say, the iron has entered into her soul. It servesher right."
Mr. Swiveller, it must be said had been at one time somewhat in lovewith a young lady: but she had left his love and married a Mr. Cheggs.
Melting from this stern and harsh into the tender and pathetic mood, Mr.Swiveller groaned a little, walked wildly up and down, and even made ashow of tearing his hair, which, however, he thought better of, andwrenched the tassel from his nightcap instead. At last, undressinghimself with a gloomy resolution, he got into bed.
Some men, in his blighted position, would have taken to drinking; but asMr. Swiveller had taken to that before, he only took, on receiving thenews that this girl was lost to him forever, to playing the flute;thinking, after mature consideration, that it was a good, sound, dismaloccupation, not only in unison with his own sad thoughts, but tending toawaken a fellow-feeling in the bosom, of his neighbors. Following outthis resolution, he now drew a little table to his bedside, and,arranging the light and a small oblong music-book to the best advantage,took his flute from its box and began to play most mournfully.
The air was "Away with melancholy"--a composition, which, when it isplayed very slowly on the flute in bed, with the farther disadvantage ofbeing performed by a gentleman not fully acquainted with the instrument,who repeats one note a great many times before he can find the next, hasnot a lively effect. Yet for half the night, or more, Mr. Swiveller,lying sometimes on his back with his eyes upon the ceiling and sometimeshalf out of bed to correct himself by the book, played this unhappy tuneover and over again; never leaving off, save for a minute or two at atime to take breath and talk to himself about the Marchioness and thenbeginning again with renewed vigor. It was not until he had quiteexhausted his several subjects of meditation, and had breathed into theflute the whole sentiment of the purl down to its very dregs, and hadnearly maddened the people of the house, and at both the next doors, andover the way--that he shut up the music-book, extinguished the candle,and, finding himself greatly lightened and relieved in his mind, turnedround and fell asleep.
Dick continued his friendly relations towards the Marchioness, and whenhe fell ill with typhoid fever his little friend nursed him back tohealth. Just after this illness an aunt of his died and left him quite alarge sum of money, a portion of which he used to educate theMarchioness, whom he afterwards married.
Dickens' Stories About Children Every Child Can Read Page 12