- end_line
- 8361
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:52.921Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 8288
- text
- their suffering. The cool censoriousness of the mere philosopher would
denominate such conduct as nothing short of temporary madness; and
perhaps it is, since, in the inexorable and inhuman eye of mere
undiluted reason, all grief, whether on our own account, or that of
others, is the sheerest unreason and insanity.
The note now written was the following:
"_For that Fine Old Fellow, Dates._
"Dates, my old boy, bestir thyself now. Go to my room, Dates, and
bring me down my mahogany strong-box and lock-up, the thing covered
with blue chintz; strap it very carefully, my sweet Dates, it is
rather heavy, and set it just without the postern. Then back and
bring me down my writing-desk, and set that, too, just without the
postern. Then back yet again, and bring me down the old camp-bed
(see that all the parts be there), and bind the case well with a
cord. Then go to the left corner little drawer in my wardrobe, and
thou wilt find my visiting-cards. Tack one on the chest, and the
desk, and the camp-bed case. Then get all my clothes together, and
pack them in trunks (not forgetting the two old military cloaks, my
boy), and tack cards on them also, my good Dates. Then fly round
three times indefinitely, my good Dates, and wipe a little of the
perspiration off. And then--let me see--then, my good Dates--why
what then? Why, this much. Pick up all papers of all sorts that may
be lying round my chamber, and see them burned. And then--have old
White Hoof put to the lightest farm-wagon, and send the chest, and
the desk, and the camp-bed, and the trunks to the 'Black Swan,'
where I shall call for them, when I am ready, and not before, sweet
Dates. So God bless thee, my fine, old, imperturbable Dates, and
adieu!
"Thy old young master,
PIERRE.
"_Nota bene_--Mark well, though, Dates. Should my mother possibly
interrupt thee, say that it is my orders, and mention what it is I
send for; but on no account show this to thy mistress--D'ye hear?
PIERRE again."
Folding this scrawl into a grotesque shape, Pierre ordered the man to
take it forthwith to Dates. But the man, all perplexed, hesitated,
turning the billet over in his hand; till Pierre loudly and violently
bade him begone; but as the man was then rapidly departing in a panic,
Pierre called him back and retracted his rude words; but as the servant
now lingered again, perhaps thinking to avail himself of this repentant
mood in Pierre, to say something in sympathy or remonstrance to him,
Pierre ordered him off with augmented violence, and stamped for him to
begone.
Apprising the equally perplexed old landlord that certain things would
in the course of that forenoon be left for him, (Pierre,) at the Inn;
and also desiring him to prepare a chamber for himself and wife that
night; some chamber with a commodious connecting room, which might
answer for a dressing-room; and likewise still another chamber for a
servant; Pierre departed the place, leaving the old landlord staring
vacantly at him, and dumbly marveling what horrible thing had happened
to turn the brain of his fine young favorite and old shooting comrade,
Master Pierre.
Soon the short old man went out bare-headed upon the low porch of the
Inn, descended its one step, and crossed over to the middle of the road,
gazing after Pierre. And only as Pierre turned up a distant lane, did
his amazement and his solicitude find utterance.
"I taught him--yes, old Casks;--the best shot in all the country round
is Master Pierre;--pray God he hits not now the bull's eye in
himself.--Married? married? and coming here?--This is pesky strange!"
- title
- Chunk 2