Pickwick Abroad; or, The Tour in France — page 201: what you’re looking at

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{88 PICKWICK ABROAD, ‘¢ Surely that cannot be a mad-house,” cried Mr. Pickwick, with a © species of shudder. M, “Oh! no,” exclaimed Mr. Chitty; “that is a dancing-master— — salians magister.”’ ‘“‘ But do people learn dancing at this time of night?’’ enquired the — bewildered Mr. Pickwick, begirnine to think that Paris was a strange | city. “There is a little humbug in that, my dear Sir,” explained Mr. Chitty in a whisper, although there was no danger of being overheard, rh -_, ~ “That gentleman has doubtless had a ball this evening; and as his candles are supplied by contract as well as the room, he plays at the window for an hour or so after his pupils have left him, in order to © attract the notice of passengers in the street. JVemne sub statis—now — ou understand.” ‘‘Then the room is actually empty at this moment?’ cried Mr. | Winkle. ‘“* Exactly so,” said Mr. Chitty; ‘“‘ but very few people know that. Hark! how he calls!” It was not, however, very necessary to hold one’s breath to Listeinel indeed, if there were a New Police in Paris, the dancing-master would soon have found his way to the station-house under a charge of alarm- ing an entire neighbourhood. But no such impediments exist in the sovereign city, to the liberty of the French citizen; so the dancing- master continued to bawl out, “ La Pastorelle,” Ke., until hali-past two o'clock, without interruption. Mr. Pickwick and his companions had not proceeded far down the Boulevards towards the Rue de la Paix, when their attention was again called into operation by a gentleman who lay stretched at full leneth upon the pavement. ‘You had better take care,’ said Mr. Winkle, his blood running | cold in his veins, ‘* or they’1l swear we murdered the man.’ ‘¢No fear of that,” observed the philanthropic Mr. Pickwick, who ~ had stooped down, and examined the features of the prostrate indi- — vidual by the hght of the adjacent lamp. ‘‘ He is alive—and—and, T think—if I mistake not—” “Animus oculum—mind your eye, in case he should Jump up suddenly,’ suggested the prudent Mr. Septimus Chitty. “Tt ain’t—a—a part of—of—my system !”” murmured the prostrate gentleman. ‘“ I told ’°em I'd go—back; but—but I’m d d—if— if I do!” ‘““ Mr. Hook Walker, I declare!’ ejaculated Mr. Winkle. ‘* Hamus Ambulator—who is he?” demanded Mr. Chitty. “A friend—that is, an acquaintance of our’s,’’ answered Mr. Winkle. At this moment a patrol of municipal guards passed by, and con- | siderately undertook to carry Mr. Walker to his own home, on a shutter which they proposed to borrow for the purpose, providing any letter in that gentleman’s pocket should indicate his address; and if no such intimation were discov ered, they declared their intention of | stowing him safely away in the ouard- house. Mr. Pickwick accord- ingly abandoned the systematic individual to the patrol, and hastened — homewards with his companions. Mr, Septimus Chitty bade him and — Comicboeoks.com —