Part 25 (1/2)
Hamilton bit his lip and was silent. Helm was exasperatingly good tempered, and his jocularity was irresistible. While he was yet speaking a guard came up followed by Jean, the hunchback, and saluting said to Hamilton:
”The lad wants to see the young lady, sir.”
Hamilton gazed quizzically at Jean, who planted himself in his habitual att.i.tude before him and stared up into his face with the grotesque expression which seems to be characteristic of hunchbacks and unfledged birds--the look of an embodied and hideous joke.
”Well, sir, what will you have?” the Governor demanded.
”I want to see Alice, if you please.”
”What for?”
”I want to give her a book to read.”
”Ah, indeed. Where is it? Let me see it.”
Jean took from the breast of his loose jerkin a small volume, dog-eared and mildewed, and handed it to Hamilton. Meantime he stood first on one foot, then the other, gnawing his thumb-nail and blinking rapidly.
”Well, Helm, just look here!”
”What?”
”Manon Lescaut.”
”And what's that?”
”Haven't you ever read it?”
”Read what?”
”This novel--Manon Lescaut.”
”Never read a novel in my life. Never expect to.”
Hamilton laughed freely at Helm's expense, then turned to Jean and gave him back the book.
It would have been quite military, had he taken the precaution to examine between the pages for something hidden there, but he did not.
”Go, give it to her,” he said, ”and tell her I send my compliments, with great admiration of her taste in literature.” He motioned the soldier to show Jean to Alice. ”It's a beastly French story,” he added, addressing Helm; ”immoral enough to make a pirate blush. That's the sort of girl Mademoiselle Roussillon is!”
”I don't care what kind of a book she reads,” blurted Helm, ”she's a fine, pure, good girl. Everybody likes her. She's the good angel of this miserable frog-hole of a town. You'd like her yourself, if you'd straighten up and quit burning tow in your brain all the time. You're always so furious about something that you never have a chance to be just to yourself, or pleasant to anybody else.”
Hamilton turned fiercely on Helm, but a glimpse of the Captain's broad good-humored face heartily smiling, dispelled his anger. There was no ground upon which to maintain a quarrel with a person so persistently genial and so absurdly frank. And in fact Hamilton was not half so bad as his choleric manifestations seemed to make him out. Besides, Helm knew just how far to go, just when to stop.
”If I had got furious at you every time there was overwhelming provocation for it,” Hamilton said, ”you'd have been long since hanged or shot. I fancy that I have shown angelic forbearance. I've given you somewhat more than a prisoner's freedom.”
”So you have, so you have,” a.s.sented Helm. ”I've often been surprised at your generous partiality in my case. Let's have some hot water with something else in it, what do you say? I won't give you any more advice for five minutes by your watch.”
”But I want some advice at once.”
”What about?”