The Daltons Volume II Part 32

across the table. The waiter had apologized to a royal highness for not having better Johannisberg, as the "Schloss" wine had all been reserved for the "Count," as Peter was styled. He had won four hundred Napoleons at roulette before dinner; and a bracelet, that cost a hundred and twenty, was glittering on a fair wrist beside him, while a murmur of his name in tones of unquestionable adulation, from all parts of the table, seemed to fill up the measure of his delight.

"What's them places vacant there?" called he out to the waiter, and pointing to five chairs turned back to the table in token of being reserved.

"It was an English family had arrived that morning who bespoke them."

"Faix! then, they 're likely to lose soup and fish," said Peter; "the 'coorses' here wait for no man." And as he spoke the party made their appearance.

A large elderly lady of imposing mien and stately presence led the way, followed by a younger and slighter figure; after whom walked a very feeble old man, of a spare and stooping form; the end being brought up by a little rosy man, with a twinkling eye and a short jerking limp, that made him seem rather to dance than walk forward.

"They've ca-ca-carried off the soup already," cried the last-mentioned personage, as he arranged his napkin before him, "and--and--and, I fa-fancy, the fish, too."

"Be quiet, Scroope," called out the fat lady; "do be quiet."

"Yes, but we shall have to p-p-pay all the same," cried Scroope.

"There 's good sense in that, anyway," broke in Dalton; "will you take a gla.s.s of champagne with me, sir? you 'll find it cool, and not bad of its kind."

Mr. Purvis acknowledged the courtesy gracefully, and bowed as he drank.

"Take the ortolans to that lady, Fritz," said Dalton to the waiter; and Mrs. Ricketts smiled her sweetest grat.i.tude.

"We are dreadfully late," sighed she; "but the dear Princess of Stauffenschwillingen pa.s.sed all the morning with us, and we could n't get away."

"I thought it was the woman about the ro-rope dancing detained you."

"Hush, Scroope--will you be quiet? Martha, dearest, don't venture on those truffles. My poor child, they would be the death of you." And, so saying, she drew her companion's plate before herself. "A most agreeable, gentlemanlike person," muttered she, in a whisper, evidently intended for Peter's ears. "We must find out who he is. I suppose you know the Princess, sir? Don't you love her?" said she, addressing Dalton.

"Faix! if you mean the old lady covered with snuff that comes here to have her dogs washed at the well, without intending any offence to you, I do not. To tell you the truth, ma'am, when I was in the habit of fallin' in love, it was a very different kind of creature that did it!

Ay, ay, 'the days is gone when beauty bright my heart's ease spoilt.'"

"My heart's chain wove,'" smiled and whispered Mrs. Ricketts.

"Just so. It comes to the same thing. Give me the wine, Fritz. Will you drink a gla.s.s of wine with me, sir?"

The invitation was addressed to General Ricketts, who, by dint of several shoves, pokings, and admonitions, was at last made aware of the proposition.

"Your father's getting a little the worse for wear, miss," said Dalton to Martha, who blushed at even the small flattery of the observation.

"The General's services have impaired his const.i.tution," remarked Mrs.

Ricketts, proudly.

"Ay, and to all appearance it was nothing to boast of in the beginning,"

replied Peter, as he surveyed with self-satisfaction his own portly form.

"Fourteen years in the Hima-Hima-Hima--"

"Himalaya, Scroope,----the Himalaya."

"The highest mountains in the world!" continued Purvis.

"For wet under foot, and a spongy soil that never dries, I'll back the Galtees against them any day. See, now, you can walk from morning to night, and be over your head at every step you go."

"Where are they?" inquired Scroope.

"Why, where would they be? In Ireland, to be sure; and here's prosperity to her, and bad luck to Process-servers, 'Polis,' and Poor-Law Commissioners!" Dalton drained his gla.s.s with solemn energy to his toast, and looked as though his heart was relieved of a weight by this outburst of indignation.

"You Irish are so patriotic!" exclaimed Mrs. Ricketts, enthusiastically.

"I believe we are," replied Dalton. "'T is only we 've an odd way of showing it."

"I remark that they ne-never live in Ireland when they can li-live out of it," cackled Purvis.

"Well, and why not? Is it by staying at home in the one place people learns improvements? you might drink whiskey-punch for forty years and never know the taste of champagne. Potatoes wouldn't teach you the flavor of truffles. There's nothing like travellin'!"

"Very true," sighed Mrs. Ricketts; "but, as the poet says, 'Where'er I go, whatever realms I see--"'

"The devil a one you 'll meet as poor as Ireland," broke in Dalton, who now had thrown himself headlong into a favorite theme. "Other countries get better, but she gets worse."

"They say it's the po-po----" screamed Scroope.

"The Pope, is it?"

"No; the po-potatoes is the cause of everything."

"They might as well hould their prate, then," broke in Peter, whose dialect always grew broader when he was excited. "Why don't they tell me that if I was too poor to buy broadcloth, it would be better for me to go naked than wear corduroy breeches? Not that I'd mind them, miss!" said be, turning to Martha, who already was blus.h.i.+ng at his ill.u.s.tration.

"I fear that the evil lies deeper," sighed Mrs. Ricketts.

"You mean the bogs?" asked Dal ton.

"Not exactly, sir; but I allude to those drearier swamps of superst.i.tion and ignorance that overlay the land."

Peter was puzzled, and scratched his ear like a man at a nonplus.

"My sister means the pr-pr-pr--"

"The process-servers?"

"No; the pr-priests--the priests," screamed Purvis.

"Bother!" exclaimed Dalton, with an accent of ineffable disdain. "'T is much you know about Ireland!"

"You don't agree with me then?" sighed Mrs. Ricketts.

"Indeed I do not. Would you take away the little bit of education out of a country where there's nothing but ignorance? Would you extinguish the hopes of heaven amongst them that has nothing but starvation and misery here? Try it,--just try it. I put humanity out of the question; but just try it, for the safety's sake! Pat is n't very orderly now, but, faix!

you 'd make a raal devil of him then, entirely!"

"But popery, my dear sir--the confessional--"