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Elisha Cuthbert Gallery Books: Martin Eden The Pickwick Papers The Sea Wolf |
with the profound astonishment with which he had
heard this address. His first impression was that his coat had been
stolen. Will you allow me to detain you one moment? said he.
Certainly, replied the unwelcome visitor.
Mr. Winkle ran hastily upstairs, and with a trembling hand
opened the bag. There was the coat in its usual place, but
exhibiting, on a close inspection, evident tokens of having been
worn on the preceding night.
It must be so, said Mr. Winkle, letting the coat fall from his
hands. I took too much wine after dinner, and have a very vague
recollection of walking about the streets, and smoking a cigar
afterwards. The fact is, I was very drunk;--I must have changed
my coat--gone somewhere--and insulted somebody--I have no
doubt of it; and this message is the terrible consequence. Saying
which, Mr. Winkle retraced his steps in the direction of the
coffee-room, with the gloomy and dreadful resolve of accepting
the challenge of the warlike Doctor Slammer, and abiding by the
worst consequences that might ensue.
To this determination Mr. Winkle was urged by a variety of
considerations, the first of which was his reputation with the
club. He had always been looked up to as a high authority on all
matters of amusement and dexterity, whether offensive, defensive,
or inoffensive; and if, on this very first occasion of being put
to the test, he shrunk back from the trial, beneath his leaders eye,
his name and standing were lost for ever. Besides, he remembered
to have heard it frequently surmised by the uninitiated in such
matters that by an understood arrangement between the seconds,
the pistols were seldom loaded with ball; and, furthermore, he
reflected that if he applied to Mr. Snodgrass to act as his second,
and depicted the danger in glowing terms, that gentleman might
possibly communicate the intelligence to Mr. Pickwick, who
would certainly lose no time in transmitting it to the local
authorities, and thus prevent the killing or maiming of his follower.
Such were his thoughts when he returned to the coffee-room,
and intimated his intention of accepting the doctors challenge.
Will you refer me to a friend, to arrange the time and place of
meeting? said the officer.
Quite unnecessary, replied Mr. Winkle; name them to me,
and I can procure the attendance of a friend afterwards.
Shall we say--sunset this evening? inquired the officer, in a
careless tone.
Very good, replied Mr. Winkle, thinking in his heart it was
very bad.
You know Fort Pitt?
Yes; I saw it yesterday.
If you will take the trouble to turn into the field which borders
the trench, take the foot-path to the left when you arrive at an
angle of the fortification, and keep straight on, till you see me, I
will precede you to a secluded place, where the affair can be
conducted without fear of interruption.
Fear of interruption! thought Mr. Winkle.
Nothing more to arrange, I think, said the officer.
I am not aware of anything more, replied Mr. Winkle.
Good-morning.
Good-morning; and the officer whistled a lively air as he
strode away.
That mornings breakfast passed heavily off. Mr. Tupman was
not in a condition to rise, after the unwonted dissipation of the
previous night; Mr. Snodgrass appeared to labour under a
poetical depression of spirits; and even Mr. Pickwick evinced an
unusual attachment to silence and soda-water. Mr. Winkle
eagerly watched his opportunity: it was not long wanting. Mr.
Snodgrass proposed a visit to the castle, and as Mr. Winkle was
the only other member of the party disposed to walk, they went
out together.
Snodgrass, said Mr. Winkle, when they had turned out of the
public street. Snodgrass, my dear fellow, can I rely upon your
secrecy? As he said this, he most devoutly and earnestly hoped
he could not.
You can, replied Mr. Snodgrass. Hear me swear--
No, no, interrupted Winkle, terrified at the idea of his
companions unconsciously pledging himself not to give information;
dont swear, dont swear; its quite unnecessary.
Mr. Snodgrass dropped the hand which he had, in the spirit of
poesy, raised towards the clouds as he made the above appeal,
and assumed an attitude of attention.
I want your assistance, my dear fellow, in an affair of
honour, said Mr. Winkle.
You shall have it, replied Mr. Snodgrass, clasping his friends hand.
With a doctor--Doctor Slammer, of the 97th, said Mr.
Winkle, wishing to make the matter appear as solemn as possible;
an affair with an officer, seconded by another officer, at sunset
this evening, in a lonely field beyond Fort Pitt.
I The Pickwick Papers page 11 The Pickwick Papers page 13 |