Part 6 (2/2)

Don't make such a noise. We'll try and make some use of you when we have time, but we must bustle now. Come on, Jack. Stop a bit, though; where's the Clerk of the Court? Oh, there! Clerk, we shall want this Court-house almost directly to use for a free market for this district.

There have been too many people starving and half-starving this long time; and the first thing that we've got to see to is that every one has enough to eat, drink, and wear, and a proper roof over his head.

_J. N_. Murder! thieves! fire!

_S. E_. There, there! Don't make such a row, old fellow! Get out of this, and bellow in the fields with the horned cattle, if you must bellow. Perhaps they'll want Courts of Justice now, as we don't. And as for you, good fellows, all give a cheer for the Social Revolution which has Turned the Tables; and so--to work--to work!

[JUDGE _screams and faints, and Curtain falls_.

PART II.

SCENE.--_The Fields near a Country Village; a Copse close by. Time--After the Revolution_.

[_Enter_ CITIZEN (_late_ JUSTICE) NUPKINS. _He looks cautiously about to right and left, then sits down on the ground_.]

_C. N_. Now I think I may safely take a little rest: all is quiet here.

Yet there are houses in the distance, and wherever there are houses now, there are enemies of law and order. Well, at least, here is a good thick copse for me to hide in in case anybody comes. What am I to do? I shall be hunted down at last. It's true that those last people gave me a good belly-full, and asked me no questions; but they looked at me very hard.

One of these times they will bring me before a magistrate, and then it will be all over with me. I shall be charged as a rogue and a vagabond, and made to give an account of myself; and then they will find out who I am, and then I shall be hanged--I shall be hanged--I, Justice Nupkins!

Ah, the happy days when _I_ used to sentence people to be hanged! How easy life was then, and now how hard! [_Hides his face in his hands and weeps_.

[_Enter_ MARY PINCH, _prettily dressed_.]

_M. P_. How pleasant it is this morning! These hot late summer mornings, when the first pears are ripening, and the wheat is nearly ready for cutting, and the river is low and weedy, remind me most of the times when I was a little freckle-faced child, when I was happy in spite of everything, though it was hard lines enough sometimes. Well, well, I can think of those times with pleasure now; it's like living the best of the early days over again, now we are so happy, and the children like to grow up straight and comely, and not having their poor little faces all creased into anxious lines. Yes, I am my old self come to life again; it's all like a pretty picture of the past days. They were brave men.

and good fellows who helped to bring it about: I feel almost like saying my prayers to them. And yet there were people--yes, and poor people too--who couldn't bear the idea of it. I wonder what they think of it now. I wish, sometimes, I could make people understand how I felt when they came to me in prison, where all things were so miserable that, heaven be praised! I can't remember its misery now, and they brought Robert to me, and he hugged me and kissed me, and said, when he stood away from me a little, ”Come, Mary, we are going home, and we're going to be happy; for the rich people are gone, and there's no more starving or stealing.” And I didn't know what he meant, but I saw such a look in his eyes and in the eyes of those who were with him, that my feet seemed scarcely on the ground; as if I were going to fly. And how tired out I was with happiness before the day was done! Just to think that my last- born child will not know what to be poor meant; and n.o.body will ever be able to make him understand it. [NUPKINS _groans_.] Hilloa! What's the matter? Why, there's a man ill or in trouble; an oldish man, too. Poor old fellow! Citizen, what's the matter? How can I help you?

_C. N_. (_jumping up with a howl_). Ah, they are upon me! That dreadful word ”citizen”! (_Looks at_ M. P. _and staggers back_). Oh, Lord! is it? Yes, it _is_--the woman that I sentenced on that horrible morning, the last morning I adorned the judicial bench.

_M. P_. What _is_ the matter? And how badly you're dressed; and you seem afraid. What _can_ you be afraid of? If I am not afraid of the cows, I am sure you needn't be--with your great thick stick, too. (_She looks at him and laughs, and says aside_, Why to be sure, if it isn't that silly, spiteful old man that sentenced me on the last of the bad days before we all got so happy together!) (_To_ N.) Why, Mr.

Nupkins--citizen--I remember you; you are an old acquaintance: I'll go and call my husband.

_C. N_. Oh, no! no! don't! _please_ don't!--(_Aside_: There, there, I'm done for--can I run away?--No use--perhaps I might soften her. I used to be called eloquent--by the penny-a-liners. I've made a jury cry--I think--let me try it. Gentlemen of the Jury, remember the sad change in my client's position! remember.--Oh, I'm going mad, I think--she remembers me) (_Kneels before her_) Oh, woman, woman, spare me! Let me crawl into the copse and die quietly there!

_M. P_. Spare you, citizen? Well, I could have spared you once, well enough, and so could many another poor devil have done. But as to dying in the copse, no, I really can't let you do that. You must come home to our house, and we'll see what can be done with you. It's our old house, but really nice enough, now; all that pretty picture of plenty that I told you about on that day when you were so hard upon me has come to pa.s.s, and more.

_C. N_. Oh, no! I can't come!

_M. P_. Oh, yes; you can get as far as that, and we'll give you something to eat and drink, and then you'll be stronger. It will really please me, if you'll come; I'm like a child with a new toy, these days, and want to show new-comers all that's going on. Come along, and I'll show you the pretty new hall they are building for our parish; it's such a pleasure to stand and watch the lads at work there, as merry as grigs.

Hark! you may hear their trowels clinking from here. And, Mr. Nupkins, you mustn't think I stole those loaves; I really didn't.

_C. N_. Oh, dear me! Oh, dear me! She wants to get me away and murder me! I won't go.

_M. P_. How _can_ you talk such nonsense? Why, on earth, should I murder you?

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