Part 5 (2/2)
”Hawbury,” said he, solemnly, after about two minutes of portentous silence.
”Well, old man?”
”I've had an adventure.”
”An adventure! Well, don't be bashful. Breathe forth the tale in this confiding ear.”
”You see,” said Dacres, ”I started off this morning for a ride, and had no more intention of going to Vesuvius than to Jericho.”
”I should hope not. What business has a fellow like you with Vesuvius--a fellow that has scaled Cotopaxi, and all that sort of thing? Not you.”
Dacres put the cigar thoughtfully in his mouth, struck a light, and tried to light it, but couldn't. Then he bit the end off, which he had forgotten to do before. Then he gave three long, solemn, and portentous puffs. Then he took the cigar between his first and second fingers, and stretched his hand out toward Hawbury.
”Hawbury, my boy,” said he again.
”All right.”
”You remember the time when I got that bullet in Uruguay?”
”Yes.”
”Well, I had a shot to-day.”
”A shot! The deuce you had. Cool, too. Any of those confounded bandits about? I thought that was all rot.”
”It wasn't a real shot; only figurative.”
”Figurative!”
”Yes; it was a--a girl.”
”By Jove!” cried Hawbury, starting up from an easy posture which he had secured for himself after fifteen minutes s.h.i.+fting and changing.
”A girl! You, Dacres, spooney! A fellow like you, and a girl! By Jove!”
Hawbury fell back again, and appeared to be vainly trying to grapple with the thought. Dacres put his cigar between his lips again, and gave one or two puffs at it, but it had gone out. He pitched it out of the window, and struck his hand heavily on the arm of his chair.
”Yes, Hawbury, a girl; and spooney, too--as spooney as blazes; but I'll swear there isn't such another girl upon the whole face of the earth; and when you bear in mind the fact that my observation, with extended view, has surveyed mankind from China to Peru, you'll be able to appreciate the value of my statement.”
”All right, old man; and now for the adventure.”
”The adventure? Well, you see, I started for a ride. Had a misty idea of going to Sorrento, and was jogging along among a million pigs or so at Portici, when I overtook a carriage that was going slowly along.
There were three ladies in it. The backs of two of them were turned toward me, and I afterward saw that one was old--no doubt the chaperon--and the other was young. But the third lady, Hawbury--Well, it's enough to say that I, who have seen all women in all lands, have never seen any thing like her. She was on the front seat, with her face turned toward me. She was small, a perfect blonde; hair short and curling; a round, girlish face; dimpled cheeks, and little mouth. Her eyes were large and blue; and, as she looked at me, I saw such a bewitching innocence, such plaintive entreaty, such pathetic trust, such helpless, childlike--I'll be hanged if I can find words to express what I want to say. The English language doesn't contain them.”
”Do it in Latin, then, or else skip the whole description. All the same. I know the whole story by heart. Love's young dream, and all that sort of thing, you know.”
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