Pickwick Abroad; or, The Tour in France — page 355: what you’re looking at

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342 PICKWICK ABROAD relieve him from his embarrassment, he thought it more prudent to return to his bed, and await the result of the visit of the police. He was about to adopt this rational method of proceeding, when a loud knock at the door of his chamber, and the clattering of swords and the stamp of heavy boots in the passage beyond it, plunged him into such a state of alarm and trepidation, that, if there had been no ~ parapet, he would have fallen from the ledge into the garden. The — knocks were repeated; but Mr. Snodgrass’s tongue refused to utter the necessary words to bid the Gendarmes enter; so they adopted. a more speedy though less ceremonious way of obtaining ingress to the apartment than waiting for its inmate to unlock the door, which they smashed into two or three pieces with one kick of a jack-boot. ‘‘Where is this Count Boloski?” demanded the leader of thé Gendarmes of Mr. Lawson, who accompanied them with a candle. A low moan from the vicinity of the window, and the circumstance of that article of convenience being open, attracted the officer of the police to the spot; and his visual rays encountered the shivering form of the miserable Mr. Snodgrass. ‘‘The tall one is the Count, is he not?’’ enquired the officer, Mr. Lawson replied in the affirmative. ‘*’Then here he is to a certainty,’ observed the Gendarme; and he put his foot upon a chair, to leap through the window and secure his prey. The appearance of the formidable cocked-hat at the open window, surmounting a face in which whiskers and moustachios were amongst the most prominent features, gave a sudden impulse and energy to the paralyzed limbs of Mr. Snodgrass. Reflection was out of the question ; but in obedience to the sudden dictation of his own alarms, he started and rushed along the ledge, in the direction already pur- sued by the Count, with the speed of lightning. The Gendarme uttered a terrible oath in French, and sprang from the window after him. Mr. Snodgrass had already gained the angle before alluded to, and was preparing to turn round it, when am immense cat, whom the extraordinary apparition of a gentleman in his shirt had doubtless terrified, made so desperate an attack upon him, that, in the con. fusion and fresh terrors awakened by this unexpected onslaught, he turned round to retrace his steps, and fell against the Gendarme, into his power, and then backwards upon the cold leads simultaneously. “Oh! let me die—let me die!” exclaimed Mr. Snodgrass, whose mind had been worked up to a pitch of almost pcetic frenzy by the occurrences of the night: “‘let me die—I am a wretch not fit to hve!” “The devil! he speaks English very well, though—this Polish Count,”’ exclaimed the Gendarme, as he proceeded to pick Mr. Snod- grass up and conduct him back to his chamber. ‘Use no violence—I will follow you,” said Mr. Snodgrass, some- what recovering his presence of mind and a little of his lost composure. ‘* Now dress yourself, and prepare to follow us to the guard-house,” cried the officer of Gendarmes, when he and his prisoner had once more passed through the window. i. ‘* He’s no more a Polish Count than I am,” exclaimed Mr. Lawson, pre the candle upon the drawers, ‘‘ He speaks English as wellas © 6,7 s “7 \ Eomicbooks.com