The History of Pendennis, Volume 2

by William Makepeace Thackeray

  CHAPTER VIII.

  MONSEIGNEUR S'AMUSE.

  The exertions of that last night at Gaunt House had proved almost toomuch for Major Pendennis; and as soon as he could move his weary oldbody with safety, he transported himself groaning to Buxton, andsought relief in the healing waters of that place. Parliament brokeup. Sir Francis Clavering and family left town, and the affairs whichwe have just mentioned to the reader were not advanced, in the briefinterval of a few days or weeks which have occurred between this andthe last chapter. The town was, however, emptied since then. Theseason was now come to a conclusion: Pen's neighbors, the lawyers,were gone upon circuit: and his more fashionable friends had takentheir passports for the Continent, or had fled for health orexcitement to the Scotch moors. Scarce a man was to be seen in thebay-windows of the Clubs, or on the solitary Pall-Mall pavement. Thered jackets had disappeared from before the Palace-gate: the tradesmenof St. James's were abroad taking their pleasure: the tailors hadgrown mustaches, and were gone up the Rhine: the bootmakers were atEms or Baden, blushing when they met their customers at those placesof recreation, or punting beside their creditors at the gamblingtables: the clergymen of St. James's only preached to half acongregation, in which there was not a single sinner of distinction:the band in Kensington Gardens had shut up their instruments of brassand trumpets of silver: only two or three old flies and chaisescrawled by the banks of the Serpentine, and Clarence Bulbul, who wasretained in town by his arduous duties as a Treasury clerk, when hetook his afternoon ride in Rotten Row, compared its loneliness to thevastness of the Arabian desert, and himself to a Bedouin wending hisway through that dusty solitude. Warrington stowed away a quantity ofCavendish tobacco in his carpet bag, and betook himself, as his customwas, in the vacation to his brother's house in Norfolk. Pen was leftalone in chambers for a while, for this man of fashion could not quitthe metropolis when he chose always: and was at present detained bythe affairs of his newspaper, the Pall Mall Gazette, of which he actedas the editor and charge d'affaires during the temporary absence ofthe chief, Captain Shandon, who was with his family at the salutarywatering-place of Boulogne sur Mer.

  Although, as we have seen, Mr. Pen had pronounced himself for yearspast to be a man perfectly _blase_ and wearied of life, yet the truthis that he was an exceedingly healthy young fellow; still with a fineappetite, which he satisfied with the greatest relish and satisfactionat least once a day; and a constant desire for society, which showedhim to be any thing but misanthropical. If he could not get a gooddinner he sat down to a bad one with perfect contentment; if he couldnot procure the company of witty, or great, or beautiful persons, heput up with any society that came to hand; and was perfectly satisfiedin a tavern-parlor or on board a Greenwich steam-boat, or in a jauntto Hampstead with Mr. Finucane, his colleague at the Pall MallGazette; or in a visit to the summer theaters across the river; or tothe Royal Gardens of Vauxhall, where he was on terms of friendshipwith the great Simpson, and where he shook the principal comic singeror the lovely equestrian of the arena by the hand. And while he couldwatch the grimaces or the graces of these with a satiric humor thatwas not deprived of sympathy, he could look on with an eye of kindnessat the lookers on too; at the roystering youth bent upon enjoyment,and here taking it: at the honest parents, with their delightedchildren laughing and clapping their hands at the show: at the pooroutcasts, whose laughter was less innocent, though perhaps louder, andwho brought their shame and their youth here, to dance and be merrytill the dawn at least; and to get bread and drown care. Of thissympathy with all conditions of men Arthur often boasted: he waspleased to possess it: and said that he hoped thus to the last heshould retain it. As another man has an ardor for art or music, ornatural science, Mr. Pen said that anthropology was his favoritepursuit; and had his eyes always eagerly open to its infinitevarieties and beauties: contemplating with an unfailing delight allspecimens of it in all places to which he resorted, whether it was thecoqueting of a wrinkled dowager in a ball-room, or a high-bred youngbeauty blushing in her prime there; whether it was a hulking guardsmancoaxing a servant-girl in the Park, or innocent little Tommy that wasfeeding the ducks while the nurse listened. And indeed a man whoseheart is pretty clean, can indulge in this pursuit with an enjoymentthat never ceases, and is only perhaps the more keen because it issecret, and has a touch of sadness in it: because he is of his moodand humor lonely, and apart although not alone.

  Yes, Pen used to brag and talk in his impetuous way to Warrington. "Iwas in love so fiercely in my youth, that I have burned out that flameforever, I think, and if ever I marry, it will be a marriage of reasonthat I will make, with a well-bred, good-tempered, good-looking personwho has a little money, and so forth, that will cushion our carriagein its course through life. As for romance, it is all done; I havespent that out, and am old before my time--I'm proud of it."

  "Stuff!" growled the other, "you fancied you were getting bald theother day, and bragged about it, as you do about every thing. But youbegan to use the bear's-grease pot directly the hair-dresser told you;and are scented like a barber ever since."

  "You are Diogenes," the other answered, "and you want every man tolive in a tub like yourself. Violets smell better than stale tobacco,you grizzly old cynic." But Mr. Pen was blushing while he made thisreply to his unromantical friend, and indeed cared a great deal moreabout himself still than such a philosopher perhaps should have done.Indeed, considering that he was careless about the world, Mr. Penornamented his person with no small pains in order to make himselfagreeable to it, and for a weary pilgrim as he was, wore very tightboots and bright varnish.

  It was in this dull season of the year then, of a shining Friday nightin autumn, that Mr. Pendennis, having completed at his newspaperoffice a brilliant leading article--such as Captain Shandon himselfmight have written, had the captain been in good humor, and inclinedto work, which he never would do except under compulsion--that Mr.Arthur Pendennis having written his article, and reviewed itapprovingly as it lay before him in its wet proof-sheet at the officeof the paper, bethought him that he would cross the water, and regalehimself with the fire-works and other amusements of Vauxhall. So heaffably put in his pocket the order which admitted "Editor of PallMall Gazette and friend" to that place of recreation, and paid withthe coin of the realm a sufficient sum to enable him to cross WaterlooBridge. The walk thence to the Gardens was pleasant, the stars wereshining in the skies above, looking down upon the royal property,whence the rockets and Roman candles had not yet ascended to outshinethe stars.

  Before you enter the enchanted ground, where twenty thousandadditional lamps are burned every night as usual, most of us havepassed through the black and dreary passage and wickets which hide thesplendors of Vauxhall from uninitiated men. In the walls of thispassage are two holes strongly illuminated, in the midst of which yousee two gentlemen at desks, where they will take either your money asa private individual, or your order of admission if you are providedwith that passport to the Gardens. Pen went to exhibit his ticket atthe last-named orifice, where, however, a gentleman and two ladieswere already in parley before him.

  The gentleman, whose hat was very much on one side, and who wore ashort and shabby cloak in an excessively smart manner, was crying outin a voice which Pen at once recognized, "Bedad, sir, if ye doubt mehonor, will ye obleege me by stipping out of that box, and--"

  "Lor, Capting!" cried the elder lady.

  "Don't bother me," said the man in the box.

  "And ask Mr. Hodgen himself, who's in the gyardens, to let theseleedies pass. Don't be froightened, me dear madam, I'm not going toquarl with this gintleman, at any reet before leedies. Will ye go,sir, and desoire Mr. Hodgen (whose orther I keem in with, and he's memost intemate friend, and I know he's goan to sing the 'Body Snatcher'here to-noight), with Captain Costigan's compliments, to stip out andlet in the leedies; for meself, sir, oi've seen Vauxhall, and Iscawrun any interfayrance on moi account: but for these leedies, oneof them has never been there, and oi should think ye'd
harly takeadvantage of me misfartune in losing the tickut, to deproive her ofher pleasure."

  "It ain't no use, captain. I can't go about your business," thechecktaker said; on which the captain swore an oath, and the elderlady said, "Lor, ow provokin!"

  As for the young one, she looked up at the captain, and said, "Nevermind, Captain Costigan, I'm sure I don't want to go at all. Come away,mamma." And with this, although she did not want to go at all, herfeelings overcame her, and she began to cry.

  "Me poor child!" the captain said. "Can ye see that, sir, and will yenot let this innocent creature in?"

  "It ain't my business," cried the door-keeper, peevishly, out of theilluminated box. And at this minute Arthur came up, and recognizingCostigan, said, "Don't you know me, captain? Pendennis!" And he tookoff his hat and made a bow to the two ladies. "Me dear boy! Me dearfriend!" cried the captain, extending toward Pendennis the grasp offriendship; and he rapidly explained to the other what he called "amost unluckee conthratong." He had an order for Vauxhall, admittingtwo, from Mr. Hodgen, then within the Gardens, and singing (as he didat the Back Kitchen and the nobility's concerts the "Body Snatcher,"the "Death of General Wolfe," the "Banner of Blood," and otherfavorite melodies); and, having this order for the admission of twopersons, he thought that it would admit three, and had comeaccordingly to the Gardens with his friends. But, on his way, CaptainCostigan had lost the paper of admission--it was not forthcoming atall; and the leedies must go back again, to the great disappointmentof one of them, as Pendennis saw.

  Arthur had a great deal of good nature for everybody, and sympathizedwith the misfortunes of all sorts of people: how could he refuse hissympathy in such a case as this? He had seen the innocent face as itlooked up to the captain, the appealing look of the girl, the piteousquiver of the mouth, and the final outburst of tears. If it had beenhis last guinea in the world, he must have paid it to have given thepoor little thing pleasure. She turned the sad imploring eyes awaydirectly they lighted upon a stranger, and began to wipe them with herhandkerchief. Arthur looked very handsome and kind as he stood beforethe women, with his hat off, blushing, bowing, generous, agentleman. "Who are they?" he asked of himself. He thought he had seenthe elder lady before.

  "If I can be of any service to you, Captain Costigan," the young mansaid, "I hope you will command me; is there any difficulty abouttaking these ladies into the garden? Will you kindly make use of mypurse? And--I have a ticket myself which will admit two--I hope,ma'am, you will permit me?"

  The first impulse of the Prince of Fairoaks was to pay for the wholeparty, and to make away with his newspaper order as poor Costigan haddone with his own ticket. But his instinct, and the appearance of thetwo women told him that they would be better pleased if he did notgive himself the airs of a _grand seigneur_, and he handed his purseto Costigan, and laughingly pulled out his ticket with one hand, as heoffered the other to the elder of the ladies--ladies was not theword--they had bonnets and shawls, and collars and ribbons, and theyoungest showed a pretty little foot and boot under her modest graygown, but his Highness of Fairoaks was courteous to every person whowore a petticoat, whatever its texture was, and the humbler thewearer, only the more stately and polite in his demeanor.

  "Fanny, take the gentleman's arm," the elder said; "since you will beso very kind; I've seen you often come in at our gate, sir, and go into Captain Strong's, at No. 4."

  Fanny made a little courtesy, and put her hand under Arthur's arm. Ithad on a shabby little glove, but it was pretty and small. She wasnot a child, but she was scarcely a woman as yet; her tears had driedup, and her cheek mantled with youthful blushes, and her eyesglistened with pleasure and gratitude, as she looked up into Arthur'skind face.

  Arthur, in a protecting way, put his other hand upon the little oneresting on his arm. "Fanny's a very pretty little name," he said, "andso you know me, do you?"

  "We keep the lodge, sir, at Shepherd's Inn," Fanny said, with acourtesy; "and I've never been at Vauxhall, sir, and Pa didn't like meto go--and--and--O--O--law, how beautiful!" She shrank back as shespoke, starting with wonder and delight as she saw the Royal Gardensblaze before her with a hundred million of lamps, with a splendor suchas the finest fairy tale, the finest pantomime she had ever witnessedat the theater, had never realized. Pen was pleased with her pleasure,and pressed to his side the little hand which clung so kindly to him."What would I not give for a little of this pleasure?" said the_blase_ young man.

  "Your purse, Pendennis, me dear boy," said the captain's voice behindhim. "Will ye count it? it's all roight--no--ye thrust in old JackCostigan (he thrusts me, ye see, madam). Ye've been me preserver, Pen(I've known um since choildhood, Mrs. Bolton; he's the proproietor ofFairoaks Castle, and many's the cooper of clart I've dthrunk therewith the first nobilitee of his native countee)--Mr. Pendennis,ye've been me preserver, and oi thank ye; me daughtther will thank ye:Mr. Simpson, your humble servant, sir."

  If Pen was magnificent in his courtesy to the ladies, what was hissplendor in comparison to Captain Costigan's bowing here and there,and crying bravo to the singers?

  A man, descended like Costigan, from a long line of Hibernian kings,chieftains, and other magnates and sheriffs of the county, had ofcourse too much dignity and self-respect to walk arrum-in-arrum (asthe captain phrased it) with a lady who occasionally swept his roomout, and cooked his mutton chops. In the course of their journey fromShepherd's Inn to Vauxhall Gardens, Captain Costigan had walked by theside of the two ladies, in a patronizing and affable manner pointingout to them the edifices worthy of note, and discoursing, according tohis wont, about other cities and countries which he had visited, andthe people of rank and fashion with whom he had the honor of anacquaintance. Nor could it be expected, nor, indeed, did Mrs. Boltonexpect, that, arrived in the royal property, and strongly illuminatedby the flare of the twenty thousand additional lamps, the captainwould relax from his dignity, and give an arm to a lady who was, infact, little better than a housekeeper or charwoman.

  But Pen, on his part, had no such scruples. Miss Fanny Bolton did notmake his bed nor sweep his chambers; and he did not choose to let gohis pretty little partner. As for Fanny, her color heightened, and herbright eyes shone the brighter with pleasure, as she leaned forprotection on the arm of such a fine gentleman as Mr. Pen. And shelooked at numbers of other ladies in the place, and at scores of othergentlemen under whose protection they were walking here and there; andshe thought that her gentleman was handsomer and grander looking thanany other gent in the place. Of course there were votaries of pleasureof all ranks there--rakish young surgeons, fast young clerks andcommercialists, occasional dandies of the guard regiments, and therest. Old Lord Colchicum was there in attendance upon MademoiselleCaracoline, who had been riding in the ring; and who talked her nativeFrench very loud, and used idiomatic expressions of exceeding strengthas she walked about, leaning on the arm of his lordship.

  Colchicum was in attendance upon Mademoiselle Caracoline, little TomTufthunt was in attendance upon Lord Colchicum; and rather pleased,too, with his position. When Don Juan scales the wall, there's never awant of a Leporello to hold the ladder. Tom Tufthunt was quite happyto act as friend to the elderly viscount, and to carve the fowl, andto make the salad at supper. When Pen and his young lady met theviscount's party, that noble peer only gave Arthur a passing leer ofrecognition as his lordship's eyes passed from Pen's face under thebonnet of Pen's companion. But Tom Tufthunt wagged his head verygood-naturedly at Mr. Arthur, and said, "How are you, old boy?" andlooked extremely knowing at the god-father of this history.

  "That is the great rider at Astley's; I have seen her there," MissBolton said, looking after Mademoiselle Caracoline; "and who is thatold man? is it not the gentleman in the ring?"

  "That is Lord Viscount Colchicum, Miss Fanny," said Pen, with an airof protection. He meant no harm; he was pleased to patronize the younggirl, and he was not displeased that she should be so pretty, and thatshe should be hanging upon his arm, and that yonder elder
ly Don Juanshould have seen her there.

  Fanny was very pretty; her eyes were dark and brilliant; her teethwere like little pearls; her mouth was almost as red as MademoiselleCaracoline's when the latter had put on her vermilion. And what adifference there was between the one's voice and the other's, betweenthe girl's laugh and the woman's! It was only very lately, indeed,that Fanny, when looking in the little glass over the Bows-Costiganmantle-piece as she was dusting it, had begun to suspect that she wasa beauty. But a year ago, she was a clumsy, gawky girl, at whom herfather sneered, and of whom the girls at the day-school (MissMinifer's, Newcastle-street, Strand; Miss M., the younger sister, tookthe leading business at the Norwich circuit in 182-; and she herselfhad played for two seasons with some credit T.R.E.O., T.R.S.W.,until she fell down a trap-door and broke her leg); the girls atFanny's school, we say, took no account of her, and thought her adowdy little creature as long as she remained under Miss Minifer'sinstruction. And it was unremarked and almost unseen in the darkporter's lodge of Shepherd's Inn, that this little flower bloomedinto beauty.

  So this young person hung upon Mr. Pen's arm, and they paced thegardens together. Empty as London was, there were still some twomillions of people left lingering about it, and among them, one or twoof the acquaintances of Mr. Arthur Pendennis.

  Among them, silent and alone, pale, with his hands in his pockets, anda rueful nod of the head to Arthur as they met, passed Henry Foker,Esq. Young Henry was trying to ease his mind by moving from place toplace, and from excitement to excitement. But he thought about Blancheas he sauntered in the dark walks; he thought about Blanche as helooked at the devices of the lamps. He consulted the fortune-tellerabout her, and was disappointed when that gipsy told him that he wasin love with a dark lady who would make him happy; and at the concert,though Mr. Momus sang his most stunning comic songs, and asked hismost astonishing riddles, never did a kind smile come to visit Foker'slips. In fact he never heard Mr. Momus at all.

  Pen and Miss Bolton were hard by listening to the same concert, andthe latter remarked, and Pen laughed at, Mr. Foker's woe-begone face.

  Fanny asked what it was that made that odd-looking little man sodismal? "I think he is crossed in love!" Pen said. "Isn't that enoughto make any man dismal, Fanny?" And he looked down at her, splendidlyprotecting her, like Egmont at Clara in Goethe's play, or Leicester atAmy in Scott's novel.

  "Crossed in love is he? poor gentleman," said Fanny with a sigh, andher eyes turned round toward him with no little kindness and pity--butHarry did not see the beautiful dark eyes.

  "How-dy-do, Mr. Pendennis!"--a voice broke in here--it was that of ayoung man in a large white coat with a red neckcloth, over which adingy short collar was turned, so as to exhibit a dubious neck--with alarge pin of bullion or other metal, and an imaginative waistcoat withexceedingly fanciful glass buttons, and trowsers that cried with aloud voice, "Come look at me and see how cheap and tawdry I am; mymaster, what a dirty buck!" and a little stick in one pocket of hiscoat, and a lady in pink satin on the other arm--"How-dy-do--Forgetme, I dare say? Huxter--Clavering."

  "How do you do, Mr. Huxter," the Prince of Fairoaks said, in his mostprincely manner, "I hope you are very well." "Pretty bobbish,thanky." And Mr. Huxter wagged his head. "I say, Pendennis, you'vebeen coming it uncommon strong since we had the row at Wapshot's,don't you remember. Great author, hay? Go about with the swells. Sawyour name in the Morning Post. I suppose you're too much of a swell tocome and have a bit of supper with an old friend?--Charterhouse-laneto-morrow night--some devilish good fellows from Bartholomew's, andsome stunning gin punch. Here's my card." And with this Mr. Huxterreleased his hand from the pocket where his cane was, and pulling offthe top of his card case with his teeth produced thence a visitingticket, which he handed to Pen.

  "You are exceedingly kind, I am sure," said Pen: "but I regret that Ihave an engagement which will take me out of town to-morrow night."And the Marquis of Fairoaks wondering that such a creature as thiscould have the audacity to give him a card, put Mr. Huxter's card intohis waistcoat pocket with a lofty courtesy. Possibly Mr. Samuel Huxterwas not aware that there was any great social difference between Mr.Arthur Pendennis and himself. Mr. Huxter's father was a surgeon andapothecary at Clavering, just as Mr. Pendennis's papa had been asurgeon and apothecary at Bath. But the impudence of some men isbeyond all calculation.

  "Well, old fellow, never mind," said Mr. Huxter, who, always frank andfamiliar, was from vinous excitement even more affable than usual. "Ifever you are passing, look up at our place--I'm mostly at homeSaturdays; and there's generally a cheese in the cupboard. Ta, Ta.There's the bell for the fire-works ringing. Come along, Mary." And heset off running with the rest of the crowd in the direction of thefireworks.

  So did Pen presently, when this agreeable youth was out of sight,begin to run with his little companion; Mrs. Bolton following afterthem, with Captain Costigan at her side. But the captain was toomajestic and dignified in his movements to run for friend or enemy,and he pursued his course with the usual jaunty swagger whichdistinguished his steps, so that he and his companion were speedilydistanced by Pen and Miss Fanny.

  Perhaps Arthur forgot, or perhaps he did not choose to remember, thatthe elder couple had no money in their pockets, as had been proved bytheir adventure at the entrance of the gardens; howbeit, Pen paid acouple of shillings for himself and his partner, and with her hangingclose on his arm, scaled the staircase which leads to the fire-workgallery. The captain and mamma might have followed them if they liked,but Arthur and Fanny were too busy to look back. People were pushingand squeezing there beside and behind them. One eager individualrushed by Fanny, and elbowed her so, that she fell back with a littlecry, upon which, of course, Arthur caught her adroitly in his arms,and, just for protection, kept her so defended until they mounted thestair, and took their places.

  Poor Foker sate alone on one of the highest benches, his face illuminatedby the fire-works, or in their absence by the moon. Arthursaw him, and laughed, but did not occupy himself about his friendmuch. He was engaged with Fanny. How she wondered! how happy she was!how she cried O, O, O, as the rockets soared into the air, andshowered down in azure, and emerald, and vermilion. As these wondersblazed and disappeared before her, the little girl thrilled andtrembled with delight at Arthur's side--her hand was under his armstill, he felt it pressing him as she looked up delighted.

  "How beautiful they are, sir!" she cried.

  "Don't call me sir, Fanny," Arthur said.

  A quick blush rushed up into the girl's face. "What shall I call you?"she said, in a low voice, sweet and tremulous. "What would you wish meto say, sir?"

  "Again, Fanny? Well, I forgot; it is best so, my dear," Pendennissaid, very kindly and gently. "I may call you Fanny?"

  "O yes!" she said, and the little hand pressed his arm once more veryeagerly, and the girl clung to him so that he could feel her heartbeating on his shoulder.

  "I may call you Fanny, because you are a young girl, and a good girl, Fanny, and I am an old gentleman. But you mustn't call me any thingbut sir, or Mr. Pendennis, if you like; for we live in very differentstations, Fanny; and don't think I speak unkindly; and--and why do youtake your hand away, Fanny? Are you afraid of me? Do you think I wouldhurt you? Not for all the world, my dear little girl. And--and lookhow beautiful the moon and stars are, and how calmly they shine whenthe rockets have gone out, and the noisy wheels have done hissing andblazing. When I came here to-night, I did not think I should have hadsuch a pretty little companion to sit by my side, and see these finefire-works. You must know I live by myself, and work very hard. Iwrite in books and newspapers, Fanny; and I was quite tired out, andexpected to sit alone all night; and--don't cry, my dear, dear, littlegirl." Here Pen broke out, rapidly putting an end to the calm orationwhich he had begun to deliver; for the sight of a woman's tears alwaysput his nerves in a quiver, and he began forthwith to coax her andsoothe her, and to utter a hundred-and-twenty little ejaculations ofpity and sympathy, which need
not be repeated here, because they wouldbe absurd in print. So would a mother's talk to a child be absurd inprint; so would a lover's to his bride. That sweet, artless poetrybears no translation; and is too subtle for grammarian's clumsydefinitions. You have but the same four letters to describe the salutewhich you perform on your grandmother's forehead, and that which youbestow on the sacred cheek of your mistress; but the same fourletters, and not one of them a labial. Do we mean to hint that Mr.Arthur Pendennis made any use of the monosyllable in question? Not so.In the first place it was dark: the fire-works were over, and nobodycould see him; secondly, he was not a man to have this kind of secret,and tell it; thirdly and lastly, let the honest fellow who has kisseda pretty girl, say what would have been his own conduct in such adelicate juncture?

  Well, the truth is, that however you may suspect him, and whatever youwould have done under the circumstances, or Mr. Pen would have likedto do, he behaved honestly, and like a man. "I will not play with thislittle girl's heart," he said within himself, "and forget my own orher honor. She seems to have a great deal of dangerous and rathercontagious sensibility, and I am very glad the fire-works are over,and that I can take her back to her mother. Come along, Fanny; mindthe steps, and lean on me. Don't stumble, you heedless little thing;this is the way, and there is your mamma at the door."

  And there, indeed, Mrs. Bolton was, unquiet in spirit, and graspingher umbrella. She seized Fanny with maternal fierceness and eagerness,and uttered some rapid abuse to the girl in an under tone. Theexpression in Captain Costigan's eye--standing behind the matron andwinking at Pendennis from under his hat--was, I am bound to say,indefinably humorous.

  It was so much so, that Pen could not refrain from bursting into alaugh. "You should have taken my arm, Mrs. Bolton," he said, offeringit. "I am very glad to bring Miss Fanny back quite safe to you. Wethought you would have followed us up into the gallery. We enjoyed thefire-works, didn't we?"

  "Oh, yes!" said Miss Fanny, with rather a demure look.

  "And the bouquet was magnificent," said Pen. "And it is ten hourssince I had any thing to eat, ladies, and I wish you would permit meto invite you to supper."

  "Dad," said Costigan, "I'd loike a snack, tu; only I forgawt me purse,or I should have invoited these leedies to a colleetion."

  Mrs. Bolton, with considerable asperity, said, she ad an eadache, andwould much rather go home.

  "A lobster salad is the best thing in the world for a headache," Pensaid, gallantly, "and a glass of wine I'm sure will do you good. Come,Mrs. Bolton, be kind to me, and oblige me. I shan't have the heart tosup without you, and upon my word, I have had no dinner. Give me yourarm: give me the umbrella. Costigan, I'm sure you'll take care of MissFanny; and I shall think Mrs. Bolton angry with me, unless she willfavor me with her society. And we will all sup quietly, and go back ina cab together."

  The cab, the lobster salad, the frank and good-humored look ofPendennis, as he smilingly invited the worthy matron, subdued hersuspicions and her anger. Since he _would_ be so obliging, she thoughtshe could take a little bit of lobster, and so they all marched awayto a box; and Costigan called for a waither with such a loud andbelligerent voice, as caused one of those officials instantly torun to him.

  The _carte_ was examined on the wall, and Fanny was asked to chooseher favorite dish; upon which the young creature said she was fond oflobster, too, but also owned to a partiality for raspberry-tart. Thisdelicacy was provided by Pen, and a bottle of the most friskyChampagne was moreover ordered for the delight of the ladies. LittleFanny drank this: what other sweet intoxication had she not drunk inthe course of the night?

  When the supper, which was very brisk and gay, was over, and CaptainCostigan and Mrs. Bolton had partaken of some of the rack punch thatis so fragrant at Vauxhall, the bill was called and discharged by Penwith great generosity, "like a foin young English gentleman of th'olden toime, be Jove," Costigan enthusiastically remarked. And as,when they went out of the box, he stepped forward and gave Mrs. Boltonhis arm, Fanny fell to Pen's lot, and the young people walked away inhigh good-humor together, in the wake of their seniors.

  The Champagne and the rack punch, though taken in moderation by allpersons, except perhaps poor Cos, who lurched ever so little in hisgait, had set them in high spirits and good humor, so that Fanny beganto skip and move her brisk little feet in time to the band, which wasplaying waltzes and galops for the dancers. As they came up to thedancing, the music and Fanny's feet seemed to go quicker together; sheseemed to spring, as if naturally, from the ground, and as if sherequired repression to keep her there.

  "Shouldn't you like a turn?" said the Prince of Fairoaks. "What funit would be! Mrs. Bolton, ma'am, do let me take her once round." Uponwhich Mr. Costigan said, "Off wid you!" and Mrs. Bolton not refusing(indeed, she was an old war-horse, and would have liked, at thetrumpet's sound, to have entered the arena herself), Fanny's shawl wasoff her back in a minute, and she and Arthur were whirling round in awaltz in the midst of a great deal of queer, but exceedinglyjoyful company.

  Pen had no mishap this time with little Fanny, as he had with MissBlanche in old days; at least, there was no mishap of his making. Thepair danced away with great agility and contentment; first a waltz,then a galop, then a waltz again, until, in the second waltz, theywere bumped by another couple who had joined the Terpsichorean choir.This was Mr. Huxter and his pink satin young friend, of whom we havealready had a glimpse.

  Mr. Huxter very probably had been also partaking of supper, for he waseven more excited now than at the time when he had previously claimedPen's acquaintance; and having run against Arthur and his partner, andnearly knocked them down, this amiable gentleman of course began toabuse the people whom he had injured, and broke out into a volley ofslang against the unoffending couple. "Now, then, stoopid! Don't keepthe ground if you can't dance, old Slow Coach!" the young surgeonroared out (using, at the same time, other expressions far moreemphatic), and was joined in his abuse by the shrill language andlaughter of his partner, to the interruption of the ball, the terrorof poor little Fanny, and the immense indignation of Pen.

  Arthur was furious; and not so angry at the quarrel as at the shameattending it. A battle with a fellow like that! A row in a publicgarden, and with a porter's daughter on his arm! What a position forArthur Pendennis! He drew poor little Fanny hastily away from thedancers to her mother, and wished that lady, and Costigan, and poorFanny underground, rather than there, in his companionship, and underhis protection.

  When Huxter commenced his attack, that free spoken young gentleman hadnot seen who was his opponent, and directly he was aware that it wasArthur whom he had insulted, he began to make apologies. "Hold yourstoopid tongue, Mary," he said to his partner. "It's an old friend andcrony at home. I beg pardon, Pendennis; wasn't aware it was you, oldboy" Mr. Huxter had been one of the boys of the Clavering School, whohad been present at a combat which has been mentioned in the earlypart of this story, when young Pen knocked down the biggest championof the academy, and Huxter knew that it was dangerous to quarrelwith Arthur.

  His apologies were as odious to the other as his abuse had been. Penstopped his tipsy remonstrances by telling him to hold his tongue, anddesiring him not to use his (Pendennis's) name in that place or anyother; and he walked out of the gardens with a titter behind him fromthe crowd, every one of whom he would have liked to massacre forhaving been witness to the degrading broil. He walked out of thegardens, quite forgetting poor little Fanny, who came trembling behindhim with her mother and the stately Costigan.

  He was brought back to himself by a word from the captain, who touchedhim on the shoulder just as they were passing the inner gate.

  "There's no ray-admittance except ye pay again," the captain said."Hadn't I better go back and take the fellow your message?"

  Pen burst out laughing, "Take him a message! Do you think I wouldfight with such a fellow as that?" he asked.

  "No, no! Don't, don't!" cried out little Fanny. "How can you be sowicked, Captain Costiga
n?" The captain muttered something about honor,and winked knowingly at Pen, but Arthur said gallantly, "No, Fanny,don't be frightened. It was my fault to have danced in such a place. Ibeg your pardon, to have asked you to dance there." And he gave herhis arm once more, and called a cab, and put his three friendsinto it.

  He was about to pay the driver, and to take another carriage forhimself, when little Fanny, still alarmed, put her little hand out,and caught him by the coat, and implored him and besought him tocome in.

  "Will nothing satisfy you," said Pen, in great good-humor, "that I amnot going back to fight him? Well, I will come home with you. Drive toShepherd's Inn, Cab." The cab drove to its destination. Arthur wasimmensely pleased by the girl's solicitude about him: her tenderterrors quite made him forget his previous annoyance.

  Pen put the ladies into their lodge, having shaken hands kindly withboth of them; and the captain again whispered to him that he would seeum in the morning if he was inclined, and take his message to that"scounthrel." But the captain was in his usual condition when he madethe proposal; and Pen was perfectly sure that neither he nor Mr.Huxter, when they awoke, would remember any thing about the dispute.