Pickwick Abroad: A Companion to the Pickwick Papers — page 121: what you’re looking at

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PICKWICK ABROAD. 109 that he had asked a sufficiency of questions, | kitchen and brought a quart-bo tle of vine- or that he was perfectly satisfied with the asseveration of Mr. Terry, does not appear. “ You must not keep her waiting,” sug- gested Mr. Terry, seeing that Mr. ‘Tupman stood somewhat undecided in the middle of the room. | . “Tt is so very awkward,” murmured Mr. Tupman. “Tt would be more awkward still to lose alovely wife and a large fortune,” re- turned Mr. Terry. “A vineyard at Bor- deaux—three houses in the Chaussée d’ An- tin—an estate in Spain—a share in several of the banking-houses in Paris—and she herself connected with the first French fa- milies. She moreover speaks English like a native.” These inducements operated like magic upon the sensitive heart of Mr. Tracy Tup- man ; and having bestowed a squeeze of gratitude upon the hand of Mr. Terry, whose eyes watered at this practical illus- tration of his client’s joy and satisfaction, the gallant Pickwickian opened the door of communication with the next apartment, and hastened into the presence of the young lady and her’servant, both of whom were seated, closely veiled, upon the sofa. When Mr. Tupman entered the room, the young lady, whom he distiaguished from the servant by the superiority of her dress, kept her eyes modestly fixed upon tne ground; but the moment Mr. Tupman began to stammer out a neat compliment, in praise of a beauty he had not yet seen, the young lady started, gave a violent scream, and fell back fainting on the sofa. * Well,” thought Mr. Tupman, as he hur- ried to her assistance, “my person must be more imposing than ever I suspected it could be. She evidently fancied she was going to meet some old snivelling fellow ; and her surprise at seeing such a promising young man as myself was enough to over- come her !” Thus musing, Mr. Tracy Tupman aided the servant to disembarrass the voung lady of her bonnet and veil; and when these were laid aside, the young lady partially recovered. But who can depict the rage and astonishment of Mr. Tupman, when he recognized the too well-known features of his once-beloved Anastasie de Volage? The Matrimonial Advocate himself arrived to the succor of the fair one at this juncture ; and as he had no camphor nor salts in an ordinary smelling-bottle, he ran to the gar, which he immediately apylied to her nose. ‘hese means were effectual; and in a few minutes the fair Anastasie was re- covered. | “ Well, sir, and what have you to say to this?” demanded Mr, Tupman, folding his arms, like Bonaparte and other great. men, across his chest, and confronting the Matri- monial Advocate, with a stern countenance. “Really, my dear sir,” began the dis- comfited Mr. Terry, “I am not aware—” “The vineyard at, Bordeaux and the estate in Spain are like the castles in that latter country, I think,” said Mr. Tupman, with an ironical smile, which added greatly to the grandeur of his attitude and deportment. “Upon my word,” exclaimed Mr. Terry, “T do not yet understand you.” “Me understand him, vary well,’ sud- denly cried Mademoiselle Anastasie ; “me understand him, me assure you.” This was perfectly true, as was demon- strated by the result of the adventure. Mademoiselle Anastasie requested ihe Ma- trimonial Advocate and the female domestie to quit the room and leave her and Mr. Tupman alone together; and when her solicitation was complied with, she turned with a tragic air to Mr. Tupman, and then burst into a very excellent imitation of a flood of tears a torrent of grief. At first, Mr. Tupman paced the room moodily and sulkily, and said nothing. But the young lady, as she herself had declared, understood him perfectly well; and so she continued crying more furiously than ever. Mr. Tupman’s walk up and down the room grew gradually shorter, and at length he stopped altogether: but by some accident he had arrested his movements just oppo- site the sofa on which Anastasie was weep- ing. 5 Now—now—this is foolish,” exclaimed Mr. Tupman, his voice assuming a consola- tory tone in spite of himself. The young lady did not, however, seem to coincide with the truth of his remark, if her opinion may be tested by the tact that she burst into a still loftier key of griei when Mr. Tupman had done speaking. “ Pray now—don’t make this disturbance, my good girl,” said, Mr. Tupman, after a moment’s pause: but the more he attempted to soothe the afflicted Anastasie, the more violent became that fair person’s grief. “ Well—this is very provoking,” mused Mr. Tupman ; “I hate to see a woman cry ;’— ~ ee EO LOOKS (C(O)