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Memoirs of Mr. Charles J. Yellowplush, a fiction by William Makepeace Thackeray |
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THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE - CHAPTER II |
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_ THE HON. A. P. DEUCEACE TO T. S. DAWKINS, ESQ. "TEMPLE, Tuesday. "Mr. DEUCEACE presents his compliments to Mr. Dawkins, and begs at the same time to offer his most sincere apologies and regrets for the accident which has just taken place. "May Mr. Deuceace be allowed to take a neighbor's privilege, and to remedy the evil he has occasioned to the best of his power if Mr. Dawkins will do him the favor to partake of the contents of the accompanying case (from Strasbourg direct, and the gift of a friend, on whose taste as a gourmand Mr. Dawkins may rely), perhaps he will find that it is not a bad substitute for the plat which Mr. Deuceace's awkwardness destroyed. "It will also, Mr. Deuceace is sure, be no small gratification to the original donor of the 'pate', when he learns that it has fallen into the hands of so celebrated a bon vivant as Mr. Dawkins. "T. S. DAWKINS, Esq., &c. &c. &c."
FROM T. S. DAWKINS, ESQ., TO THE HON. A. P. DEUCEACE. "MR. THOMAS SMITH DAWKINS presents his grateful compliments to the Hon. Mr. Deuceace, and accepts with the greatest pleasure Mr. Deuceace's generous proffer. "It would be one of the HAPPIEST MOMENTS of Mr. Smith Dawkins's life, if the Hon. Mr. Deuceace would EXTEND HIS GENEROSITY still further, and condescend to partake of the repast which his MUNIFICENT POLITENESS has furnished. "TEMPLE, Tuesday." Many and many a time, I say, have I grin'd over these letters, which I had wrote from the original by Mr. Bruffy's copyin clark. Deuceace's flam about Prince Tallyram was puffickly successful. I saw young Dawkins blush with delite as he red the note; he toar up for or five sheets before he composed the answer to it, which was as you red abuff, and roat in a hand quite trembling with pleasyer. If you could but have seen the look of triumph in Deuceace's wicked black eyes, when he read the noat! I never see a deamin yet, but I can phansy 1, a holding a writhing soal on his pitchfrock, and smilin like Deuceace. He dressed himself in his very best clothes, and in he went, after sending me over to say that he would except with pleasyour Mr. Dawkins's invite. The pie was cut up, and a most frenly conversation begun betwixt the two genlmin. Deuceace was quite captivating. He spoke to Mr. Dawkins in the most respeckful and flatrin manner,--agread in every think he said,--prazed his taste, his furniter, his coat, his classick nolledge, and his playin on the floot; you'd have thought, to hear him, that such a polygon of exlens as Dawkins did not breath,--that such a modist, sinsear, honrabble genlmn as Deuceace was to be seen nowhere xcept in Pump Cort. Poor Daw was complitly taken in. My master said he'd introduce him to the Duke of Doncaster, and heaven knows how many nobs more, till Dawkins was quite intawsicated with pleasyour. I know as a fac (and it pretty well shows the young genlmn's carryter), that he went that very day and ordered 2 new coats, on porpos to be introjuiced to the lords in. But the best joak of all was at last. Singin, swagrin, and swarink--up stares came Mr. Dick Blewitt. He flung opn Mr. Dawkins's door, shouting out, "Daw my old buck, how are you?" when, all of a sudden, he sees Mr. Deuceace: his jor dropt, he turned chocky white, and then burnin red, and looked as if a stror would knock him down. "My dear Mr. Blewitt," says my master, smilin and offring his hand, "how glad I am to see you. Mr. Dawkins and I were just talking about your pony! Pray sit down." Blewitt did; and now was the question, who should sit the other out; but law bless you! Mr. Blewitt was no match for my master: all the time he was fidgetty, silent, and sulky; on the contry, master was charmin. I never herd such a flo of conversatin, or so many wittacisms as he uttered. At last, completely beat, Mr. Blewitt took his leaf; that instant master followed him; and passin his arm through that of Mr. Dick, led him into our chambers, and began talkin to him in the most affabl and affeckshnat manner. But Dick was too angry to listen; at last, when master was telling him some long story about the Duke of Doncaster, Blewitt burst out-- A plague on the Duke of Doncaster! Come, come, Mr. Deuceace, don't you be running your rigs upon me; I ain't the man to be bamboozl'd by long-winded stories about dukes and duchesses. You think I don't know you; every man knows you and your line of country. Yes, you're after young Dawkins there, and think to pluck him; but you shan't,--no, by ---- you shan't." (The reader must recklect that the oaths which interspussed Mr. B.'s convysation I have left out.) Well, after he'd fired a wolley of 'em, Mr. Deuceace spoke as cool as possbill. "Hark ye, Blewitt. I know you to be one of the most infernal thieves and scoundrels unhung. If you attempt to hector with me, I will cane you; if you want more, I'll shoot you; if you meddle between me and Dawkins, I will do both. I know your whole life, you miserable swindler and coward. I know you have already won two hundred pounds of this lad, and want all. I will have half, or you never shall have a penny." It's quite true that master knew things; but how was the wonder. I couldn't see Mr. B.'s face during this dialogue, bein on the wrong side of the door; but there was a considdrable paws after thuse complymints had passed between the two genlmn,--one walkin quickly up and down the room--tother, angry and stupid, sittin down, and stampin with his foot. "Now listen to this, Mr. Blewitt," continues master at last. "If you're quiet, you shall have half this fellow's money: but venture to win a shilling from him in my absence, or without my consent, and you do it at your peril." "Well, well, Mr. Deuceace," cries Dick, "it's very hard, and I must say, not fair: the game was of my startin, and you've no right to interfere with my friend." "Mr. Blewitt, you are a fool! You professed yesterday not to know this man, and I was obliged to find him out for myself. I should like to know by what law of honor I am bound to give him up to you?" It was charmin to hear this pair of raskles talkin about HONOR. I declare I could have found it in my heart to warn young Dawkins of the precious way in which these chaps were going to serve him. But if THEY didn't know what honor was, I did; and never, never did I tell tails about my masters when in their sarvice--OUT, in cors, the hobligation is no longer binding. Well, the nex day there was a gran dinner at our chambers. White soop, turbit, and lobstir sos; saddil of Scoch muttn, grous, and M'Arony; wines, shampang, hock, maderia, a bottle of poart, and ever so many of clarrit. The compny presint was three; wiz., the Honrabble A. P. Deuceace, R. Blewitt, and Mr. Dawkins, Exquires. My i, how we genlmn in the kitchin did enjy it. Mr. Blewittes man eat so much grous (when it was brot out of the parlor), that I reely thought he would be sik; Mr. Dawkinses genlmn (who was only abowt 13 years of age) grew so il with M'Arony and plumb-puddn, as to be obleeged to take sefral of Mr. D's. pils, which 1/2 kild him. But this is all promiscuous: I an't talkin of the survants now, but the masters. Would you bleeve it? After dinner and praps 8 bottles of wine between the 3, the genlm sat down to ecarty. It's a game where only 2 plays, and where, in coarse, when there's only 3, one looks on. Fust, they playd crown pints, and a pound the bett. At this game they were wonderful equill; and about supper-time (when grilled am, more shampang, devld biskits, and other things, was brot in) the play stood thus: Mr. Dawkins had won 2 pounds; Mr. Blewitt 30 shillings; the Honrabble Mr. Deuceace having lost 3L. l0s. After the devvle and the shampang the play was a little higher. Now it was pound pints, and five pound the bet. I thought, to be sure, after hearing the complymints between Blewitt and master in the morning, that now poor Dawkins's time was come. Not so: Dawkins won always, Mr. B. betting on his play, and giving him the very best of advice. At the end of the evening (which was abowt five o'clock the nex morning) they stopt. Master was counting up the skore on a card. "Blewitt," says he, "I've been unlucky. I owe you, let me see-- yes, five-and-forty pounds?" "Five-and-forty," says Blewitt, "and no mistake!" "I will give you a cheque," says the honrabble genlmn. "Oh! don't mention it, my dear sir!" But master got a grate sheet of paper, and drew him a check on Messeers. Pump, Algit and Co., his bankers. "Now," says master, "I've got to settle with you, my dear Mr. Dawkins. If you had backd your luck, I should have owed you a very handsome sum of money. Voyons, thirteen points at a pound--it is easy to calculate;" and drawin out his puss, he clinked over the table 13 goolden suverings, which shon till they made my eyes wink. So did pore Dawkinses, as he put out his hand, all trembling, and drew them in. "Let me say," added master, "let me say (and I've had some little experience), that you are the very best ecarte player with whom I ever sat down." Dawkinses eyes glissened as he put the money up, and said, "Law, Deuceace, you flatter me." FLATTER him! I should think he did. It was the very think which master ment. "But mind you, Dawkins," continyoud he, "I must have my revenge; for I'm ruined--positively ruined by your luck." "Well, well," says Mr. Thomas Smith Dawkins, as pleased as if he had gained a millium, "shall it be to-morrow? Blewitt, what say you?" Mr. Blewitt agreed, in course. My master, after a little demurring, consented too. "We'll meet," says he, "at your chambers. But mind, my dear fello, not too much wine: I can't stand it at any time, especially when I have to play ecarte with YOU." Pore Dawkins left our rooms as happy as a prins. "Here, Charles," says he, and flung me a sovring. Pore fellow! pore fellow! I knew what was a-comin! But the best of it was, that these 13 sovrings which Dawkins won, MASTER HAD BORROWED THEM FROM MR. BLEWITT! I brought 'em, with 7 more, from that young genlmn's chambers that very morning: for, since his interview with master, Blewitt had nothing to refuse him. Well, shall I continue the tail? If Mr. Dawkins had been the least bit wiser, it would have taken him six months befoar he lost his money; as it was, he was such a confunded ninny, that it took him a very short time to part with it. Nex day (it was Thursday, and master's acquaintance with Mr. Dawkins had only commenced on Tuesday), Mr. Dawkins, as I said, gev his party,--dinner at 7. Mr. Blewitt and the two Mr. D.'s as befoar. Play begins at 11. This time I knew the bisness was pretty serious, for we suvvants was packed off to bed at 2 o'clock. On Friday, I went to chambers--no master--he kem in for 5 minutes at about 12, made a little toilit, ordered more devvles and soda- water, and back again he went to Mr. Dawkins's. They had dinner there at 7 again, but nobody seamed to eat, for all the vittles came out to us genlmn: they had in more wine though, and must have drunk at least two dozen in the 36 hours. At ten o'clock, however, on Friday night, back my master came to his chambers. I saw him as I never saw him before, namly reglar drunk. He staggered about the room, he danced, he hickipd, he swoar, he flung me a heap of silver, and, finely, he sunk down exosted on his bed; I pullin off his boots and close, and making him comfrabble. When I had removed his garmints, I did what it's the duty of every servant to do--I emtied his pockits, and looked at his pockit-book and all his letters: a number of axdents have been prevented that way. I found there, among a heap of things, the following pretty dockyment--
There was another bit of paper of the same kind--"I. 0. U. four hundred pounds: Richard Blewitt:" but this, in corse, ment nothink. . . . . . . Nex mornin, at nine, master was up, and as sober as a judg. He drest, and was off to Mr. Dawkins. At ten, he ordered a cab, and the two gentlmn went together. "Where shall he drive, sir?" says I. "Oh, tell him to drive to THE BANK." Pore Dawkins! his eyes red with remors and sleepliss drunkenniss, gave a shudder and a sob, as he sunk back in the wehicle; and they drove on. That day he sold out every hapny he was worth, xcept five hundred pounds. . . . . . . Abowt 12 master had returned, and Mr. Dick Blewitt came stridin up the stairs with a sollum and important hair. "Is your master at home?" says he. "Yes, sir," says I; and in he walks. I, in coars, with my ear to the keyhole, listning with all my mite. "Well," says Blewitt, "we maid a pretty good night of it, Mr. Deuceace. Yu've settled, I see, with Dawkins." "Settled!" says master. "Oh, yes--yes--I've settled with him." "Four thousand seven hundred, I think?" "About that--yes." "That makes my share--let me see--two thousand three hundred and fifty; which I'll thank you to fork out." "Upon my word--why--Mr. Blewitt," says master, "I don't really understand what you mean." "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I MEAN!" says Blewitt, in an axent such as I never before heard. "You don't know what I mean! Did you not promise me that we were to go shares? Didn't I lend you twenty sovereigns the other night to pay our losings to Dawkins? Didn't you swear, on your honor as a gentleman, to give me half of all that might be won in this affair?" "Agreed, sir," says Deuceace; "agreed." "Well, sir, and now what have you to say?" "Why, THAT I DON'T INTEND TO KEEP MY PROMISE! You infernal fool and ninny! do you suppose I was laboring for YOU? Do you fancy I was going to the expense of giving a dinner to that jackass yonder, that you should profit by it? Get away, sir! Leave the room, sir! Or, stop--here--I will give you four hundred pounds--your own note of hand, sir, for that sum, if you will consent to forget all that has passed between us, and that you have never known Mr. Algernon Deuceace." I've seen pipple angery before now, but never any like Blewitt. He stormed, groaned, belloed, swoar! At last, he fairly began blubbring; now cussing and nashing his teeth, now praying dear Mr. Deuceace to grant him mercy. At last, master flung open the door (heaven bless us! it's well I didn't tumble hed over eels into the room!), and said, "Charles, show the gentleman down stairs!" My master looked at him quite steddy. Blewitt slunk down, as misrabble as any man I ever see. As for Dawkins, heaven knows where he was! . . . . . . "Charles," says my master to me, about an hour afterwards, "I'm going to Paris; you may come, too, if you please." _ |
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