- end_line
- 14205
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:52.924Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 14118
- text
- His two companions, momentarily stood motionless in those respective
attitudes, in which they had first caught sight of the remarkable change
that had come over him. But, as if ashamed of having been thus affected,
Millthorpe summoning a loud, merry voice, advanced toward Pierre, and,
tapping his shoulder, cried, "Wake up, wake up, my boy!--He says he is
prepaid, but no objection to more."
"Prepaid;--what's that? Go, go, and jabber to apes!"
"A curious young gentleman, is he not?" said Millthorpe lightly to the
porter;--"Look you, my boy, I'll repeat:--He says he's prepaid, but no
objection to more."
"Ah?--take that then," said Pierre, vacantly putting something into the
porter's hand.
"And what shall I do with this, sir?" said the porter, staring.
"Drink a health; but not mine; that were mockery!"
"With a key, sir? This is a key you gave me."
"Ah!--well, you at least shall not have the thing that unlocks me. Give
me the key, and take this."
"Ay, ay!--here's the chink! Thank'ee sir, thank'ee. This'll drink. I
aint called a porter for nothing; Stout's the word; 2151 is my number;
any jobs, call on me."
"Do you ever cart a coffin, my man?" said Pierre.
"'Pon my soul!" cried Millthorpe, gayly laughing, "if you aint writing
an Inferno, then--but never mind. Porter! this gentleman is under
medical treatment at present. You had better--ab'--you
understand--'squatulate, porter! There, my boy, he is gone; I understand
how to manage these fellows; there's a trick in it, my boy--an
off-handed sort of what d'ye call it?--you understand--the trick! the
trick!--the whole world's a trick. Know the trick of it, all's right;
don't know, all's wrong. Ha! ha!"
"The porter is gone then?" said Pierre, calmly. "Well, Mr. Millthorpe,
you will have the goodness to follow him."
"Rare joke! admirable!--Good morning, sir. Ha, ha!"
And with his unruffleable hilariousness, Millthorpe quitted the room.
But hardly had the door closed upon him, nor had he yet removed his hand
from its outer knob, when suddenly it swung half open again, and
thrusting his fair curly head within, Millthorpe cried: "By the way, my
boy, I have a word for you. You know that greasy fellow who has been
dunning you so of late. Well, be at rest there; he's paid. I was
suddenly made flush yesterday:--regular flood-tide. You can return it
any day, you know--no hurry; that's all.--But, by the way,--as you look
as though you were going to have company here--just send for me in case
you want to use me--any bedstead to put up, or heavy things to be lifted
about. Don't you and the women do it, now, mind! That's all again.
Addios, my boy. Take care of yourself!"
"Stay!" cried Pierre, reaching forth one hand, but moving neither
foot--"Stay!"--in the midst of all his prior emotions struck by these
singular traits in Millthorpe. But the door was abruptly closed; and
singing Fa, la, la: Millthorpe in his seedy coat went tripping down the
corridor.
"Plus heart, minus head," muttered Pierre, his eyes fixed on the door.
"Now, by heaven! the god that made Millthorpe was both a better and a
greater than the god that made Napoleon or Byron.--Plus head, minus
heart--Pah! the brains grow maggoty without a heart; but the heart's the
preserving salt itself, and can keep sweet without the head.--Delly!"
"Sir?"
"My cousin Miss Tartan is coming here to live with us, Delly. That
easel,--those trunks are hers."
"Good heavens!--coming here?--your cousin?--Miss Tartan?"
"Yes, I thought you must have heard of her and me;--but it was broken
off; Delly."
"Sir? Sir?"
"I have no explanation, Delly; and from you, I must have no amazement.
My cousin,--mind, my _cousin_, Miss Tartan, is coming to live with us.
The next room to this, on the other side there, is unoccupied. That room
shall be hers. You must wait upon her, too, Delly."
- title
- Chunk 4