Pickwick Abroad: or, The Tour in France — page 216: what you’re looking at

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

Pickwick Abroad. 169 . The waiter was then summoned and paid, and Fouquier-Tinville re- conducted Marguerite to the terrace where he had met her, and where he now bade her adieu. She essayed a repetition of all the expressions of gratitude her generous imagination could dictate; but he staid not to hear them, and waved his hand to her as he speedily withdrew from her presence. What more have I now to relate? Marguerite returned to her mother, whose tears she speedily dried—and in the course of the evening Monsieur d’Ermanville was restored to the bosom of his fa- mily. Precisely three months after, Emile de Gaston espoused the beautiful and heroic girl; and the principal character that figured in the gay drawing-room of the ancient merchant’s spacious abode at Nantes, was the Public Accuser ! Mr. Walker, having thus brought his interesting tale to a conclusion, was greeted with the unanimous thanks of his companions, who had listened in a state of painful anxiety to the narrative; and in less than half an hour the little party had broken up and returned to their respective abodes. . CHAPTER XXII. MR. TUPMAN ENCOUNTERS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.—MR. ADOLPHUS CRASHEM AGAIN CUTS A CONSPICUOUS FIGURE IN THESE MEMOIRS. PECUNIARY EMBARRASSMENTS, AND THE TRULY LAUGHABLE ADVEN- : TURE THEY ENGENDER.—MR. TUPMAN ADOPTS A NOVEL COSTUME, Timr—that space which Cicero designated as a small portion of eter- nity and which the English usually mark by certain daily potations of gin—time passed quickly away; and already was the day arrived on which the admired niece of Mr. Jeremiah Scuttle was to give her select soirée. On this memorable day, Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Winkle received letters from England, which obliged them to devote several hours to business; and Mr. Tupman, thus thrown, like an individual just ejected from a workhouse, on his own resources, was obliged to hold a consultation relative to the best mode of passing away the time that intervened between breakfast and dmner. The consultation was held in Mr. Tupman’s own bed-room at the Hotel Meurice, and was as important as any meeting that has ever yet taken place at the “Crown and Anchor,” in London. Mr. Tupman was the president— Mr. Tupman was the vice-president—Mr. Tupman was the speaker— and Mr. Tupman was the audience; and this quatuornity in unity de- termined to wander forth at hazard, and call a hackney-coach in case of extreme emergency. ; Mr. Tupman walked jauntily up the Rue Saint Honoré; he stared at the pretty milliners in the shop at the corner of the Passage de l’Orme—he ogled the two Auvergnese sisters who sell comestibles in a little shed near the church of Saint Rocq—he smiled at an itinerant pastry-girl, who kept a stall at the corner of the Rue Traversiere—and _ he impressed the sentries at the Palais Royal with an idea of his great- GOMIIGIOOKS (C(O)