Pickwick Abroad; or, The Tour in France — page 82: what you’re looking at

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

PICKWICK ABROAD. 69 “© What is the matier, now?” exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, rising from his chair, and putting his hands under his coat- tails, to give a more determined air ¢ os his already imposing attitude. “Sir,” said M, Cailliez, very civilly, ‘“‘ I shall say nothing about the ill-treatment I received at the hands of your domestic and friends last | evening—”’ “You'd better not,” interrupted Mr. Winkle, from the opposite side of the table, and glancing round to see if there were not a poker or shovel in his immediate v icinity. “But,” continued M. Cailliez, without deigning to notice this inter- | ruption, “«T must request, in every possible term of respect, that you | suit yourselves with other Spares as speedily as possible. < “ Bring the bill!” ejaculated Mr. Crashem ; “and as for staying any | longer m your confounded hotel, strike me stupid if I would not sooner be—” *<’There are two orthree gentlemen desirous of speaking to you, Sir, | down stairs,”’ quietly interrupted M. Cailliez, addressing himself with a bow to Mr. Adolphus Crashem, who turned pale, hesitated, and held his peace. *“‘ Ji any one wishto see Mr. Crashem,” said Mr, Pickwick, “ let him walk up; and in the course of the morning send me your account. You have only anticipated me in my intentions. Show Mr. Crashem’s friends up immediately ;’—and extricating his right hand from beneath his coat-tails, Mr. Pickwick waved it impressively in the air—a signal M. Cailliez, with all the native politeness of a Frenchman, immediately obeyed, retreating from the room, followed by his two clerks, whom he had brought w mth him, as meet aid, in case of a renewed attack. ‘*{ wonder who it can be,” observed Mr. Crashem, somewhat un- easily, when the door had closed behind M.Cailliez and his myrmidons. “1 do not think they could have the tmpudence to send a gendarme | to take you up,” said Mr. Pickwick, recalling to mind the adventure of Mr. Weller, at the theatre in Calais. “©Oh! Arabella! Arabella!” exclaimed Mr. Winkleima fitof most unfeigned agony, as he sank into a chair, and proceeded to bury his | face mhis hands. “ But you will be good to her, Pickwick—Tupman— if I should fall ;—you won't desert her! And if I die—in—in— a land —oi—strangers—” Here Mr. Winkle’s voice was lost in sobs; and at the moment when Mr. Pickwick was about to approach his disconsolate friend, the door again opened, and a quiet procession of four gentlemen, dressed in a variety of garbs, marched into the room. The first was a stout personage, attired in the extreme of fashion, and decorated with the order of the Legion of Honour. Thesecond was a short, sallow-visaged, sharp-eyed, straight-haired, thin-looking in- dividual, holding a parcel of papers in his “hand, and glancing ar ound him with keenness and suspicion. The third and fourth members of this little procession were two seedy-dressed, coarse-visaged, tobacco- smelling vagabonds, with thread-bare coats, boots airily contrived to edmit the fresh breezes at the toes, and shirts as dir ty as if they had een part of a reversionary interest in the property of a deceased coal- heaver. “ Parlez-vous Mrancais, Messieurs ?’ enquired the thin gentleman. EO MMICLOOOLKS (ECO) =)