- end_line
- 10616
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:52.921Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 10539
- text
- Pierre turned; and in the flashing, sinister, evil cross-lights of a
druggist's window, his eye caught the person of a wonderfully
beautifully-featured girl; scarlet-cheeked, glaringly-arrayed, and of a
figure all natural grace but unnatural vivacity. Her whole form,
however, was horribly lit by the green and yellow rays from the
druggist's.
"My God!" shuddered Pierre, hurrying forward, "the town's first welcome
to youth!"
He was just crossing over to where a line of hacks were drawn up
against the opposite curb, when his eye was arrested by a short, gilded
name, rather reservedly and aristocratically denominating a large and
very handsome house, the second story of which was profusely lighted. He
looked up, and was very certain that in this house were the apartments
of Glen. Yielding to a sudden impulse, he mounted the single step toward
the door, and rang the bell, which was quickly responded to by a very
civil black.
As the door opened, he heard the distant interior sound of dancing-music
and merriment.
"Is Mr. Stanly in?"
"Mr. Stanly? Yes, but he's engaged."
"How?"
"He is somewhere in the drawing rooms. My mistress is giving a party to
the lodgers."
"Ay? Tell Mr. Stanly I wish to see him for one moment if you please;
only one moment."
"I dare not call him, sir. He said that possibly some one might call for
him to-night--they are calling every night for Mr. Stanly--but I must
admit no one, on the plea of the party."
A dark and bitter suspicion now darted through the mind of Pierre; and
ungovernably yielding to it, and resolved to prove or falsify it without
delay, he said to the black:
"My business is pressing. I must see Mr. Stanly."
"I am sorry, sir, but orders are orders: I am his particular servant
here--the one that sees his silver every holyday. I can't disobey him.
May I shut the door, sir? for as it is, I can not admit you."
"The drawing-rooms are on the second floor, are they not?" said Pierre
quietly.
"Yes," said the black pausing in surprise, and holding the door.
"Yonder are the stairs, I think?"
"That way, sir; but this is yours;" and the now suspicious black was
just on the point of closing the portal violently upon him, when Pierre
thrust him suddenly aside, and springing up the long stairs, found
himself facing an open door, from whence proceeded a burst of combined
brilliancy and melody, doubly confusing to one just emerged from the
street. But bewildered and all demented as he momentarily felt, he
instantly stalked in, and confounded the amazed company with his
unremoved slouched hat, pale cheek, and whole dusty, travel-stained, and
ferocious aspect.
"Mr. Stanly! where is Mr. Stanly?" he cried, advancing straight through
a startled quadrille, while all the music suddenly hushed, and every eye
was fixed in vague affright upon him.
"Mr. Stanly! Mr. Stanly!" cried several bladish voices, toward the
further end of the further drawing-room, into which the first one widely
opened, "Here is a most peculiar fellow after you; who the devil is he?"
"I think I see him," replied a singularly cool, deliberate, and rather
drawling voice, yet a very silvery one, and at bottom perhaps a very
resolute one; "I think I see him; stand aside, my good fellow, will you;
ladies, remove, remove from between me and yonder hat."
- title
- Chunk 7