Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 159: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

118 Pickwick Abroad. o'clock; and still he came not. Half-past six o’clock—then seven— and then another hour elapsed without his making his appearance. The feast was for the most part entirely spoilt—the Marshals felt themselves aggrieved—and an air of gloom and despondency was shed on all present. At length the Duke made his appearance, having kept the entertainment waiting two hours and a half. But in what state did he come? He wore his riding surtout-coat, dusty boots, with spurs, and carried a riding-whip in his hand.—‘ You are some- what late, my Lord,’ said Marshal Macdonald, when the usual cere- monial greetings had taken place.—‘ Yes,’ replied the Duke, without offering an apology ; ‘I have been riding in the Bois de Boulogne all the afternoon, and was 80 pleased with the ladies whom I met there, that I found it impossible to tear myself away till now.’—Marshal Macdonald bit his lip, but said nothing. The company seated them- selves at the table, and the banquet was forthwith served up; alter which there were dancing and music ; but the spins of the guests were depressed by the circumstance already . The party there- fore broke up at an early hour; and as the Duke of W***#****** was in the act of retiring, Marshal Macdonald whispered a word in his ear.—‘ My lord duke,’ said the French officer, ‘ you inflicted a gross insult this evening, upon men who had assembled to do you honour. Since, therefore, you are so partial to the Bois de Boulogne, I must request you to meet me there at six o’clock to-morrow morning.’— And what do you think was the result ?’”’ enquired Mr. Scuttle, ap- pealing to Mr. Pickwick, as the hackney-coach stopped at the gate of eurice’s Hotel. “‘ They met, of course,’ returned that gentleman. ‘* No such thing,” said the absent man; ‘‘ the challenge was refused —-the matter hushed up amongst the English—and there the affair ended. As I before remarked, the anecdote is not generally known ; but it still dwells in the memory of a few—and from one of that select number did I learn it. You may, therefore, rely upon its truth.”’ ‘‘ And a very interesting little anecdote it is,” said Mr. Pickwick, as they all entered the coffee-room, where there was a cheerful fire. ‘‘ But what should you say to a slight supper?” added that gentle- man, with his usual consideration for the wants of others. ‘‘ Not for me,” returned Mr. Scuttle. ‘‘ Whenever I eat supper, I _ invariably walk in my sleep, or have the night-mare. I shall there- fore say ‘Good night.’”’ ‘“* Good night,”’ echoed the Pickwickians and Mr. Boozie. “Good night,” cried Mr. Scuttle; and the absent gentleman disap- peared in the company of a flat candlestick. A slight supper of about a dozen hot dishes and a bottle of brandy, with hot water and sugar, were speedily prepared for the hungry travellers; and at a very late hour they sought each his respective chamber. But what was Mr. Pickwick’s astonishment, when, just as he was about to step into bed, he discovered another tenant in that delicious abode; and, on farther inspection, became aware of the pleasing fact, that the absent gentleman was fast asleep between the identical sheets to which he was about to consign his own illustrious limbs! Mr. Pickwick started back in silent borror, and glanced hastily round the room, when other equally agreeable objects met his COL q) TOO KS (c@