Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 309 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 309: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page 291: Running Prose from "The Marquis of Carabas" This is a page of running prose narrative from a Victorian penny dreadful serial. The text depicts a comic scene in a tailor's shop where a mysterious gentleman, claiming to be the Marquis de la Carabas, is being fitted for clothes. A young nobleman (Marquis de la Jonquière) enters, and a tailor obsesses over the gentleman's "ten toes" and princely instep as marks of aristocratic distinction. The passage then shifts to describe a boy with a banjo who has become a local entertainment in Bridgetown, appearing at sunset in a leaky canoe to perform for crowds. The tone mixes satire with melodramatic local color.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
THe Marguis oF CARABAS 291 ze poulet’s. He haf ze form gentil. An’ when I ask ze Hein?” tonnerre! ‘Je suis le Marquis de la Carabas.’ ein “He is every inch a gentleman. Merely down on his luck, Rozelle.” “Kes it? Oui! M’sieu le Marquis, there vas his ten toes!” extending his fingers wide to suggest the unblushing ten toes. “Also, there vas the instep of a prince. So! Ze coat progress.’ “Many persons have less discrimination, Rozelle.” The little tailor bowed low. “M’sieu le Marquis i is ver’ kind. Ze best of men hav ze toes. An’ Rozelle ees not no churn-owl!”’ De la Jonquiére laughed outright. “You may get up the bottle-green surtout, Rozelle; and I am in want of an- other dinner-coat.”’ Lo el” “By the by, I would direct you to get up half a dozen suits for the Marquis of Carabas, but I may not take the liberty. You understand?” “Oui, M’sieu le Marquis. Will you hav ze kindness to look at ze new piece of Lyons velvet?” “No; suit yourself.” And the young nobleman strolled out of the shop, leaving the little tailor distracted with curiosity and bewilderment. This homme olivatre, with ‘ze ten toes — ten!”’ was one with whom Eugene Volney, Marquis de la Jonquiére, might not take a liberty! De la Jonquiére went off to the Bishop with the tailor’s story; and His Lordship declared that it was better than a glass of vermouth before dinner. The boy with the banjo had become a Bridgetown pastime. He never appeared on the street in the day. [he populace had no chance to get a surfeit of these same bal- lad-mongers; nor a very good look at his features either. At sunset every evening an old canoe — leaky as a min- now-bucket — was pushed through the craft in the Bay, and presently the lively “plunkety-plunk” of the banjo summoned an ever-ready crowd. First, always, he sang CORNICOO® SS (C(O) mn