Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 260: what you’re looking at

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

Pickwick Abroad. 211 flung o and a party of my own corps, who awaited outside the signal agreed upon, burst into the room, at the same time that the waiters and visitors entered from the roulette apartments on the oppo- site side. Lights were immediately brought—the Captain was safely detained in my grasp—and the Count and d’Arly were made prisoners by the Gendarmes whose services I had thus taken the precaution of “QO God! my wife—my wife—my dear, dear—unhappy Emilie!” cried D’Arly as he fainted in the arms of his captors. ‘* It is all through that chicken-hearted fellow we were induced to participate in this infernal scheme,” said the Captain, doggedly : ‘** may curses light upon him !” ‘“* We shall all be requested to proceed on a little excursion to Brest or Toulon together, one fine morning next month,” said the Count de Lille, with an indifference to his fate that was really remarkable. ‘“* By God—I will sooner die!’ exclaimed the Captain ; and in an instant he forced himself from my grasp with Herculean strength, drew a pistol from his bosom, fired it at my head, and rushed from the room with the rapidity of lightning. The movement had been so suddenly executed that surprise fur a moment rendered me incapable of acting or even thinking for myself; and the stunning noise of the pistol, the ball of which whizzed close to my right ear, so effectually stupified me that the Captain was enabled to accomplish is escape. : N othing could equal my rage and indignation at this circumstance; and to add to my annoyance, I was immediately assailed by the gives of the Count, and the reproaches of my comrades. There was, how- ever, no instantaneous remedy; and we were fain to march off our two remaining prisoners to the guard-house close by. The Commis- sary of Police of the quarter was speedily summoned—a es-verbal was concocted by that magistrate’s amanuensts—and the two culprits were transported forthwith to the prison of the Conciergerie, just as the dawn of morning appeared in the eastern horizon. Having thus pecured those unfortunate victims te a fatal passion, and consi t to a gloomy dungeon, I repaired to my lodgi in the Pecbourg Saint Antoine, and contrived to snatch a few Fours of repose. At seven o’clock I awoke, and again assuming the plain clothes I had worn on the previous afternoon, I sallied forth towards the west end of Paris. In three quarters of an hour—so great was my speed—I stopped at the gate of the house.in which the apartments of Madame D’Arly were situate. Slowly did I ascend the stairs—with a trembling hand did I pull the cord that was attached to the bell—and in a state of inexpli- cable anxiety was I ushered to the parlour where Emilie was seated on asofa. Her eyes were red with weeping—her toilet was neglected — her beautiful hair floated negligently over her shoulders. She arose hastily as I entered the room, and seemed about to give utterance to some enquiry; but her tongue refused to perform its vicarious office, and clave to the roof of her mouth. ‘‘ Madame D’Arly,” said I, “have you received any news con- ceming your husband ?” She merely shook her head, and sank upon the sofa. My counte- 2 COT stor (a) SS (c@