Catherine. William Makepeace ThackerayЧитать онлайн книгу.
handsome stranger who owned the black horse. As for poor Tummas Bullock, his passion was never violent; and he was content in the present instance to sigh and drink beer. He sighed and drank, sighed and drank, and drank again, until he had swallowed so much of the Corporal's liquor, as to be induced to accept a guinea from his purse also; and found himself, on returning to reason and sobriety, a soldier of Queen Anne's.
But oh! fancy the agonies of Mr. Hayes when, seated with the Corporal's friends at one end of the kitchen, he saw the Captain at the place of honour, and the smiles which the fair maid bestowed upon him; when, as she lightly whisked past him with the Captain's supper, she, pointing to the locket that once reposed on the breast of the Dutch lady at the Brill, looked archly on Hayes and said, “See, John, what his Lordship has given me;” and when John's face became green and purple with rage and jealousy, Mrs. Catherine laughed ten times louder, and cried “Coming, my Lord,” in a voice of shrill triumph, that bored through the soul of Mr. John Hayes and left him gasping for breath.
On Catherine's other lover, Mr. Thomas, this coquetry had no effect: he, and two comrades of his, had by this time quite fallen under the spell of the Corporal; and hope, glory, strong beer, Prince Eugene, pair of colours, more strong beer, her blessed Majesty, plenty more strong beer, and such subjects, martial and bacchic, whirled through their dizzy brains at a railroad pace.
And now, if there had been a couple of experienced reporters present at the “Bugle Inn,” they might have taken down a conversation on love and war—the two themes discussed by the two parties occupying the kitchen—which, as the parts were sung together, duetwise, formed together some very curious harmonies. Thus, while the Captain was whispering the softest nothings, the Corporal was shouting the fiercest combats of the war; and, like the gentleman at Penelope's table, on it exiguo pinxit praelia tota bero. For example:
CAPTAIN. What do you say to a silver trimming, pretty Catherine? Don't you think a scarlet riding-cloak, handsomely laced, would become you wonderfully well?—and a grey hat with a blue feather—and a pretty nag to ride on—and all the soldiers to present arms as you pass, and say, “There goes the Captain's lady”? What do you think of a side-box at Lincoln's Inn playhouse, or of standing up to a minuet with my Lord Marquis at—?
CORPORAL. The ball, sir, ran right up his elbow, and was found the next day by Surgeon Splinter of ours—where do you think, sir?—upon my honour as a gentleman it came out of the nape of his—
CAPTAIN. Necklace—and a sweet pair of diamond earrings, mayhap—and a little shower of patches, which ornament a lady's face wondrously—and a leetle rouge—though, egad! such peach-cheeks as yours don't want it;—fie! Mrs. Catherine, I should think the birds must come and peck at them as if they were fruit—
CORPORAL. Over the wall; and three-and-twenty of our fellows jumped after me. By the Pope of Rome, friend Tummas, that was a day!—Had you seen how the Mounseers looked when four-and-twenty rampaging he-devils, sword and pistol, cut and thrust, pell-mell came tumbling into the redoubt! Why, sir, we left in three minutes as many artillerymen's heads as there were cannon-balls. It was, “Ah sacre!” “D—— you, take that!” “O mon Dieu!” “Run him through!” “Ventrebleu!” and it WAS ventrebleu with him, I warrant you; for bleu, in the French language, means “through;” and ventre—why, you see, ventre means—
CAPTAIN. Waists, which are worn now excessive long; and for the hoops, if you COULD but see them—stap my vitals, my dear, but there was a lady at Warwick's Assembly (she came in one of my Lord's coaches) who had a hoop as big as a tent: you might have dined under it comfortably;—ha! ha! 'pon my faith, now—
CORPORAL. And there we found the Duke of Marlborough seated along with Marshal Tallard, who was endeavouring to drown his sorrow over a cup of Johannisberger wine; and a good drink too, my lads, only not to compare to Warwick beer. “Who was the man who has done this?” said our noble General. I stepped up. “How many heads was it,” says he, “that you cut off?” “Nineteen,” says I, “besides wounding several.” When he heard it (Mr. Hayes, you don't drink) I'm blest if he didn't burst into tears! “Noble noble fellow,” says he. “Marshal, you must excuse me if I am pleased to hear of the destruction of your countrymen. Noble noble fellow!—here's a hundred guineas for you.” Which sum he placed in my hand. “Nay,” says the Marshal “the man has done his duty:” and, pulling out a magnificent gold diamond-hilted snuff-box, he gave me—
MR. BULLOCK. What, a goold snuff-box? Wauns, but thee WAST in luck, Corporal!
CORPORAL. No, not the snuff-box, but—A PINCH OF SNUFF—ha! ha!—run me through the body if he didn't. Could you but have seen the smile on Jack Churchill's grave face at this piece of generosity! So, beckoning Colonel Cadogan up to him, he pinched his Ear and whispered—
CAPTAIN. “May I have the honour to dance a minuet with your Ladyship?” The whole room was in titters at Jack's blunder; for, as you know very well, poor Lady Susan HAS A WOODEN LEG. Ha! ha! fancy a minuet and a wooden leg, hey, my dear?—
MRS. CATHERINE. Giggle—giggle—giggle: he! he! he! Oh, Captain, you rogue, you—
SECOND TABLE. Haw! haw! haw! Well you be a foony mon, Sergeant, zure enoff.
This little specimen of the conversation must be sufficient. It will show pretty clearly that EACH of the two military commanders was conducting his operations with perfect success. Three of the detachment of five attacked by the Corporal surrendered to him: Mr. Bullock, namely, who gave in at a very early stage of the evening, and ignominiously laid down his arms under the table, after standing not more than a dozen volleys of beer; Mr. Blacksmith's boy, and a labourer whose name we have not been able to learn. Mr. Butcher himself was on the point of yielding, when he was rescued by the furious charge of a detachment that marched to his relief: his wife namely, who, with two squalling children, rushed into the “Bugle,” boxed Butcher's ears, and kept up such a tremendous fire of oaths and screams upon the Corporal, that he was obliged to retreat. Fixing then her claws into Mr. Butcher's hair, she proceeded to drag him out of the premises; and thus Mr. Brock was overcome. His attack upon John Hayes was a still greater failure; for that young man seemed to be invincible by drink, if not by love: and at the end of the drinking-bout was a great deal more cool than the Corporal himself; to whom he wished a very polite good-evening, as calmly he took his hat to depart. He turned to look at Catherine, to be sure, and then he was not quite so calm: but Catherine did not give any reply to his good-night. She was seated at the Captain's table playing at cribbage with him; and though Count Gustavus Maximilian lost every game, he won more than he lost—sly fellow!—and Mrs. Catherine was no match for him.
It is to be presumed that Hayes gave some information to Mrs. Score, the landlady: for, on leaving the kitchen, he was seen to linger for a moment in the bar; and very soon after Mrs. Catherine was called away from her attendance on the Count, who, when he asked for a sack and toast, was furnished with those articles by the landlady herself: and, during the half-hour in which he was employed in consuming this drink, Monsieur de Galgenstein looked very much disturbed and out of humour, and cast his eyes to the door perpetually; but no Catherine came. At last, very sulkily, he desired to be shown to bed, and walked as well as he could (for, to say truth, the noble Count was by this time somewhat unsteady on his legs) to his chamber. It was Mrs. Score who showed him to it, and closed the curtains, and pointed triumphantly to the whiteness of the sheets.
“It's a very comfortable room,” said she, “though not the best in the house; which belong of right to your Lordship's worship; but our best room has two beds, and Mr. Corporal is in that, locked and double-locked, with his three tipsy recruits. But your honour will find this here bed comfortable and well-aired; I've slept in it myself this eighteen years.”
“What, my good woman, you are going to sit up, eh? It's cruel hard on you, madam.”
“Sit up, my Lord? bless you, no! I shall have half of our Cat's bed; as I always do when there's company.” And with this Mrs. Score curtseyed and retired.
Very early the next morning the active landlady and her bustling attendant had prepared the ale and bacon for the Corporal and his three converts, and had set a nice white