THE JEWEL.
The Shevalier de l'Orge, the young Frenchmin whom I wrote of in my last,
who had been rather shy of his visits while master was coming it so
very strong, now came back to his old place by the side of Lady Griffin:
there was no love now, though, betwigst him and master, although the
shevallier had got his lady back agin; Deuceace being compleatly devoted
to his crookid Veanus.
The shevalier was a little, pale, moddist, insinifishnt creature; and I
shoodn't have thought, from his appearants, would have the heart to do
harm to a fli, much less to stand befor such a tremendious tiger and
fire-eater as my master. But I see putty well, after a week, from his
manner of going on--of speakin at master, and lookin at him, and olding
his lips tight when Deuceace came into the room, and glaring at him with
his i's, that he hated the Honrabble Algernon Percy.
Shall I tell you why? Because my Lady Griffin hated him: hated him wuss
than pison, or the devvle, or even wuss than her daughter-in-law. Praps
you phansy that the letter you have juss red was honest; praps you
amadgin that the sean of the reading of the will came on by mere chans,
and in the reglar cors of suckmstansies: it was all a GAME, I tell
you--a reglar trap; and that extrodnar clever young man, my master, as
neatly put his foot into it, as ever a pocher did in fesnt preserve.
The shevalier had his q from Lady Griffin. When Deuceace went off the
feald, back came De l'Orge to her feet, not a witt less tender than
befor. Por fellow, por fellow! he really loved this woman. He might as
well have foln in love with a bore-constructor! He was so blinded and
beat by the power wich she had got over him, that if she told him black
was white he'd beleave it, or if she ordered him to commit murder, he'd
do it: she wanted something very like it, I can tell you.
I've already said how, in the fust part of their acquaintance, master
used to laff at De l'Orge's bad Inglish, and funny ways. The little
creature had a thowsnd of these; and being small, and a Frenchman,
master, in cors, looked on him with that good-humored kind of contemp
which a good Brittn ot always to show. He rayther treated him like an
intelligent munky than a man, and ordered him about as if he'd bean my
lady's footman.
All this munseer took in very good part, until after the quarl betwigst
master and Lady Griffin; when that lady took care to turn the tables.
Whenever master and miss were not present (as I've heard the servants
say), she used to laff at shevalliay for his obeajance and sivillatty
to master. For her part, she wondered how a man of his birth could act
a servnt: how any man could submit to such contemsheous behavior from
another; and then she told him how Deuceace was always snearing at him
behind his back; how, in fact, he ought to hate him corjaly, and how it
was suttaly time to show his sperrit.
Well, the poar little man beleaved all this from his hart, and was angry
or pleased, gentle or quarlsum, igsactly as my lady liked. There got
to be frequint rows betwigst him and master; sharp words flung at each
other across the dinner-table; dispewts about handing ladies their
smeling-botls, or seeing them to their carridge; or going in and out of
a roam fust, or any such nonsince.
“For hevn's sake,” I heerd my lady, in the midl of one of these tiffs,
say, pail, and the tears trembling in her i's, “do, do be calm, Mr.
Deuceace. Monsieur de l'Orge, I beseech you to forgive him. You are,
both of you, so esteemed, lov'd, by members of this family, that for its
peace as well as your own, you should forbear to quarrel.”
It was on the way to the Sally Mangy that this brangling had begun, and
it ended jest as they were seating themselves. I shall never forgit poar
little De l'Orge's eyes, when my lady said “both of you.” He stair'd
at my lady for a momint, turned pail, red, look'd wild, and then, going
round to master, shook his hand as if he would have wrung it off. Mr.
Deuceace only bow'd and grin'd, and turned away quite stately; Miss
heaved a loud O from her busm, and looked up in his face with an
igspreshn jest as if she could have eat him up with love; and the little
shevalliay sate down to his soop-plate, and wus so happy, that I'm blest
if he wasn't crying! He thought the widdow had made her declyration, and
would have him; and so thought Deuceace, who look'd at her for some time
mighty bitter and contempshus, and then fell a-talking with Miss.
Now, though master didn't choose to marry Lady Griffin, as he might have
done, he yet thought fit to be very angry at the notion of her marrying
anybody else; and so, consquintly, was in a fewry at this confision
which she had made regarding her parshaleaty for the French shevaleer.
And this I've perseaved in the cors of my expearants through life, that
when you vex him, a roag's no longer a roag: you find him out at onst
when he's in a passion, for he shows, as it ware, his cloven foot the
very instnt you tread on it. At least, this is what YOUNG roags do; it
requires very cool blood and long practis to get over this pint, and not
to show your pashn when you feel it and snarl when you are angry. Old
Crabs wouldn't do it; being like another noblemin, of whom I heard the
Duke of Wellington say, while waiting behind his graci's chair, that if
you were kicking him from behind, no one standing before him would know
it, from the bewtifle smiling igspreshn of his face. Young master hadn't
got so far in the thief's grammer, and, when he was angry, show'd it.
And it's also to be remarked (a very profownd observatin for a footmin,
but we have i's though we DO wear plush britchis), it's to be remarked,
I say, that one of these chaps is much sooner maid angry than another,
because honest men yield to other people, roags never do; honest men
love other people, roags only themselves; and the slightest thing which
comes in the way of thir beloved objects sets them fewrious. Master
hadn't led a life of gambling, swindling, and every kind of debotch to
be good-tempered at the end of it, I prommis you.
He was in a pashun, and when he WAS in a pashn, a more insalent,
insuffrable, overbearing broot didn't live.
This was the very pint to which my lady wished to bring him; for I must
tell you, that though she had been trying all her might to set master
and the shevalliay by the years, she had suxeaded only so far as to
make them hate each profowndly: but somehow or other, the 2 cox wouldn't
FIGHT.
I doan't think Deuceace ever suspected any game on the part of her
ladyship, for she carried it on so admirally, that the quarls which
daily took place betwigst him and the Frenchman never seemed to come
from her; on the contry, she acted as the reglar pease-maker between
them, as I've just shown in the tiff which took place at the door of
the Sally Mangy. Besides, the 2 young men, though reddy enough to snarl,
were natrally unwilling to come to bloes. I'll tell you why: being
friends, and idle, they spent their mornins as young fashnabbles
genrally do, at billiads, fensing, riding, pistle-shooting, or some such
improoving study. In billiads, master beat the Frenchman hollow (and
had won a pretious sight of money from him: but that's neither here nor
there, or, as the French say, ontry noo); at pistle-shooting, master
could knock down eight immidges out of ten, and De l'Orge seven; and in
fensing, the Frenchman could pink the Honorable Algernon down evry one
of his weskit buttns. They'd each of them been out more than onst, for
every Frenchman will fight, and master had been obleag'd to do so in the
cors of his bisniss; and knowing each other's curridg, as well as the
fact that either could put a hundrid bolls running into a hat at 30
yards, they wairnt very willing to try such exparrymence upon their own
hats with their own heads in them. So you see they kep quiet, and only
grould at each other.
But to-day Deuceace was in one of his thundering black humers; and when
in this way he wouldn't stop for man or devvle. I said that he walked
away from the shevalliay, who had given him his hand in his sudden bust
of joyfle good-humor; and who, I do bleave, would have hugd a she-bear,
so very happy was he. Master walked away from him pale and hotty, and,
taking his seat at table, no moor mindid the brandishments of Miss
Griffin, but only replied to them with a pshaw, or a dam at one of us
servnts, or abuse of the soop, or the wine; cussing and swearing like a
trooper, and not like a well-bred son of a noble British peer.
“Will your ladyship,” says he, slivering off the wing of a pully ally
bashymall, “allow me to help you?”
“I thank you! no; but I will trouble Monsieur de l'Orge.” And towards
that gnlmn she turned, with a most tender and fasnating smile.
“Your ladyship has taken a very sudden admiration for Mr. de l'Orge's
carving. You used to like mine once.”
“You are very skilful; but to-day, if you will allow me, I will partake
of something a little simpler.”
The Frenchman helped; and, being so happy, in cors, spilt the gravy.
A great blob of brown sos spurted on to master's chick, and myandrewed
down his shert-collar and virging-white weskit.
“Confound you!” says he, “M. de l'Orge, you have done this on purpose.”
And down went his knife and fork, over went his tumbler of wine, a deal
of it into poar Miss Griffinses lap, who looked fritened and ready to
cry.
My lady bust into a fit of laffin, peel upon peel, as if it was the best
joak in the world. De l'Orge giggled and grin'd too. “Pardong,” says he;
“meal pardong, mong share munseer.” * And he looked as if he would have
done it again for a penny.
* In the long dialogues, we have generally ventured to
change the peculiar spelling of our friend Mr. Yellowplush.
The little Frenchman was quite in extasis; he found himself all of a
suddn at the very top of the trea; and the laff for onst turned against
his rivle: he actialy had the ordassaty to propose to my lady in English
to take a glass of wine.
“Veal you,” says he, in his jargin, “take a glas of Madere viz me, mi
ladi?” And he looked round, as if he'd igsackly hit the English manner
and pronunciation.
“With the greatest pleasure,” says Lady G., most graciously nodding at
him, and gazing at him as she drank up the wine. She'd refused master
before, and THIS didn't increase his good-humer.
Well, they went on, master snarling, snapping, and swearing, making
himself, I must confess, as much of a blaggard as any I ever see; and
my lady employing her time betwigst him and the shevalliay, doing every
think to irritate master, and flatter the Frenchmn. Desert came: and by
this time, Miss was stock-still with fright, the chevaleer half tipsy
with pleasure and gratafied vannaty, my lady puffickly raygent with
smiles and master bloo with rage.
“Mr. Deuceace,” says my lady, in a most winning voice, after a little
chaffing (in which she only worked him up moar and moar), “may I trouble
you for a few of those grapes? they look delicious.”
For answer, master seas'd hold of the grayp dish, and sent it sliding
down the table to De l'Orge; upsetting, in his way, fruit-plates,
glasses, dickanters, and heaven knows what.
“Monsieur de l'Orge,” says he, shouting out at the top of his voice,
“have the goodness to help Lady Griffin. She wanted MY grapes long ago,
and has found out they are sour!”
. . . . . .
There was a dead paws of a moment or so.
. . . . . .
“Ah!” says my lady, “vous osez m'insulter, devant mes gens, dans ma
propre maison--c'est par trop fort, monsieur.” And up she got, and flung
out of the room. Miss followed her, screeching out, “Mamma--for God's
sake--Lady Griffin!” and here the door slammed on the pair.
Her ladyship did very well to speak French. DE L'ORGE WOULD NOT HAVE
UNDERSTOOD HER ELSE; as it was he heard quite enough; and as the
door clikt too, in the presents of me, and Messeers Mortimer and
Fitzclarence, the family footmen, he walks round to my master, and hits
him a slap on the face, and says, “prends ca, menteur et lache!” which
means, “Take that, you liar and coward!”--rayther strong igspreshns for
one genlmn to use to another.
Master staggered back and looked bewildered; and then he gave a kind
of a scream, and then he made a run at the Frenchman, and then me and
Mortimer flung ourselves upon him, whilst Fitzclarence embraced the
shevalliay.
“A demain!” says he, clinching his little fist, and walking away, not
very sorry to git off.
When he was fairly down stares, we let go of master: who swallowed
a goblit of water, and then pawsing a little and pullout his pus, he
presented to Messeers Mortimer and Fitzclarence a luydor each. “I will
give you five more to-morrow,” says he, “if you will promise to keep
this secrit.”
And then he walked in to the ladies. “If you knew,” says he, going up
to Lady Griffin, and speaking very slow (in cors we were all at the
keyhole), “the pain I have endured in the last minute, in consequence of
the rudeness and insolence of which I have been guilty to your ladyship,
you would think my own remorse was punishment sufficient, and would
grant me pardon.”
My lady bowed, and said she didn't wish for explanations. Mr. Deuceace
was her daughter's guest, and not hers; but she certainly would never
demean herself by sitting again at table with him. And so saying out she
boltid again.
“Oh! Algernon! Algernon!” says Miss, in teers, “what is this dreadful
mystery--these fearful shocking quarrels? Tell me, has anything
happened? Where, where is the chevalier?”
Master smiled and said, “Be under no alarm, my sweetest Matilda. De
l'Orge did not understand a word of the dispute; he was too much in
love for that. He is but gone away for half an hour, I believe; and will
return to coffee.”
I knew what master's game was, for if miss had got a hinkling of the
quarrel betwigst him and the Frenchman, we should have had her screeming
at the “Hotel Mirabeu,” and the juice and all to pay. He only stopt
for a few minnits and cumfitted her, and then drove off to his friend,
Captain Bullseye, of the Rifles; with whom, I spose, he talked over this
unplesnt bisniss. We fownd, at our hotel, a note from De l'Orge, saying
where his secknd was to be seen.
Two mornings after there was a parrowgraf in Gallynanny's Messinger,
which I hear beg leaf to transcribe:--
“FEARFUL DUEL.--Yesterday morning, at six o'clock, a meeting took place,
in the Bois de Boulogne, between the Hon. A. P. D--ce-ce, a younger son
of the Earl of Cr-bs, and the Chevalier de l'O---. The chevalier was
attended by Major de M---, of the Royal Guard, and the Hon. Mr. D---
by Captain B-lls-ye, of the British Rifle Corps. As far as we have been
able to learn the particulars of this deplorable affair, the dispute
originated in the house of a lovely lady (one of the most brilliant
ornaments of our embassy), and the duel took place on the morning
ensuing.
“The chevalier (the challenged party, and the most accomplished amateur
swordsman in Paris) waived his right of choosing the weapons, and the
combat took place with pistols.
“The combatants were placed at forty paces, with directions to advance
to a barrier which separated them only eight paces. Each was furnished
with two pistols. Monsieur de l'O--- fired almost immediately, and the
ball took effect in the left wrist of his antagonist, who dropped the
pistol which he held in that hand. He fired, however, directly with his
right, and the chevalier fell to the ground, we fear mortally wounded. A
ball has entered above his hip-joint, and there is very little hope that
he can recover.
“We have heard that the cause of this desperate duel was a blow which
the chevalier ventured to give to the Hon. Mr. D. If so, there is some
reason for the unusual and determined manner in which the duel was
fought.
“Mr. Deu--a-e returned to his hotel; whither his excellent father, the
Right Hon. Earl of Cr-bs, immediately hastened on hearing of the sad
news, and is now bestowing on his son the most affectionate parental
attention. The news only reached his lordship yesterday at noon, while
at breakfast with his Excellency Lord Bobtail, our ambassador. The noble
earl fainted on receiving the intelligence; but in spite of the shock to
his own nerves and health, persisted in passing last night by the couch
of his son.”
And so he did. “This is a sad business, Charles,” says my lord to me,
after seeing his son, and settling himself down in our salong. “Have you
any segars in the house? And hark ye, send me up a bottle of wine and
some luncheon. I can certainly not leave the neighborhood of my dear
boy.”