Japhet in Search of a Father Part 9

Such was the elegant wit with which we amused and attracted the audience. Perhaps, had we been more refined, we should not have been so successful.

That evening we had the room as full as it could hold. Signor Velotti _alias_ Melchior astonished them. The cards appeared to obey his commands--rings were discovered in lady's shoes--watches were beat to a powder and made whole--canary birds flew out of eggs. The audience were delighted. The entertainment closed with Fleta's performance on the slack wire; and certainly never was there anything more beautiful and graceful. Balanced on the wire in a continual, waving motion, her eyes fixed upon a point to enable her to maintain her position, she performed several feats, such as the playing with five oranges, balancing swords, etcetera. Her extreme beauty--her very picturesque and becoming dress-- her mournful expression and downcast eyes--her gentle manner, appeared to win the hearts of the audience; and when she was a.s.sisted off from her perilous situation by Melchior and me, and made her graceful courtesy, the plaudits were unanimous.

When the company dispersed I went to her, intending to praise her, but I found her in tears. "What is the matter, my dear Fleta?"

"O nothing! don't say I have been crying--but I cannot bear it--so many people looking at me. Don't say a word to Melchior--I won't cry any more."

PART ONE, CHAPTER TWELVE.

IT IS VERY EASY TO HUMBUG THOSE WHO ARE SO EAGER TO BE HUMBUGGED AS PEOPLE ARE IN THIS WORLD OF HUMBUG--WE SHOW OURSELVES EXCESSIVELY DISINTERESTED, WHICH ASTONISHES EVERYBODY.

I kissed and consoled her; she threw her arm round my neck, and remained there with her face hid for some time. We then joined the others at supper. Melchior was much pleased with our success, and highly praised the conduct of Timothy and myself, which he p.r.o.nounced was, for the first attempt, far beyond his expectations.

We continued to astonish all the good people of -- for five days, when we discovered the indubitable fact, that there was no more money to be extracted from their pockets, upon which we resumed our usual clothes and smock-frocks and with our bundles in our hands, set off for another market town, about fifteen miles distant. There we were equally successful, and Melchior was delighted with our having proved such a powerful acquisition to his troop; but not to dwell too long upon one subject, I shall inform the reader that, after a trip of six weeks, during which we were very well received, we once more returned to the camp, which had located within five miles of our last scene of action.

Everyone was content--we were all glad to get back and rest from our labours. Melchior was pleased with his profits, poor little Fleta overjoyed to be once more in the seclusion of her tent, and Nattee very glad to hear of our good fortune, and to see her husband. Timothy and I had already proved ourselves so useful, that Melchior treated us with the greatest friends.h.i.+p and confidence--and he made us a present out of the gains, for our exertions; to me he gave ten, and to Timothy five, pounds.

"There, j.a.phet, had you hired yourself I should not have paid you more than seven s.h.i.+llings per week, finding you in food; but you must acknowledge that for six weeks that is not bad pay. However, your earnings will depend upon our success, and I rather think that we shall make a much better thing of it when next we start, which will be in about a fortnight; but we have some arrangements to make. Has Timothy a good memory?"

"I think he has."

"That is well. I told you before that we are to try the 'Wise Man,'-- but first we must have Nattee in play. To-morrow we will start for --,"

mentioning a small quiet town about four miles off.

We did so, early the next morning, and arrived about noon, pitching our tents on the common, not far from the town; but in this instance we left all the rest of our gang behind. Melchior's own party and his two tents were all that were brought by the donkeys.

Melchior and I, dressed as countrymen, went into the town at dusk, and entered a respectable sort of inn, taking our seats at one of the tables in the tap-room, and, as we had already planned, after we had called for beer, commenced a conversation in the hearing of the others who were sitting drinking and smoking.

"Well, I never will believe it--it's all cheat and trickery," said Melchior, "and they only do it to pick your pocket. Tell your fortune, indeed! I suppose she promised you a rich wife and half-a-dozen children."

"No, she did not," replied I, "for I am too young to marry; but she told me what I know has happened."

"Well, what was that?"

"Why, she told me that my mother had married again, and turned me out of doors to work for my bread."

"But she might have heard that."

"How could she? No, that's not possible; but she told me I had a mole on my knee, which was a sign of luck. Now how could she know that?"

"Well, I grant that was odd--and pray what else did she promise you?"

"Why, she said that I should meet with my dearest friend to-night. Now that does puzzle me, for I have but one in the world, and he is a long way off."

"Well, if you do meet your friend, then I'll believe her; but if not, it has been all guess work; and pray what did you pay for all this--was it a s.h.i.+lling, or did she pick your pocket?"

"That's what puzzles me,--she refused to take anything. I offered it again and again, and she said, 'No; that she would have no money--that her gift was not to be sold.'"

"Well, that is odd. Do you hear what this young man says?" said Melchior, addressing the others, who had swallowed every word.

"Yes," replied one; "but who is this person?"

"The queen of the gipsies, I am told. I never saw such a wonderful woman in my life--her eye goes right through you. I met her on the common, and, as she pa.s.sed, she dropped a handkerchief. I ran back to give it her, and then she thanked me and said, 'Open your hand and let me see the palm. Here are great lines, and you will be fortunate;' and then she told me a great deal more, and bid G.o.d bless me."

"Then if she said that, she cannot have dealings with the _devil_,"

observed Melchior.

"Very odd--very strange--take no money--queen of the gipsies," was echoed from all sides.

The landlady and the bar-maid listened with wonder, when who should come in, as previously agreed, but Timothy. I pretended not to see him; but he came up to me, seizing me by the hand, and shaking it with apparent delight, and crying, "Wilson, have you forgot Smith?"

"Smith!" cried I, looking earnestly in his face. "Why so it is. How came you here?"

"I left Dublin three days ago," replied he; "but how I came here into this house, is one of the strangest things that ever occurred. I was walking over the common, when a tall handsome woman looked at me, and said, 'Young man, if you will go into the third public-house you pa.s.s, you will meet an old friend, who expects you.' I thought she was laughing at me; but as it mattered very little in which house I pa.s.sed the night, I thought, for the fun of the thing, I might as well take her advice."

"How strange!" cried Melchior, "and she told him the same--that is, he would meet a friend."

"Strange--very strange--wonderful--astonis.h.i.+ng!" was echoed from all quarters, and the fame of the gipsy was already established.

Timothy and I sat down together, conversing as old friends, and Melchior went about from one to the other, narrating the wonderful occurrence till past midnight, when we all three took beds at the inn, as if we were travellers.

The report which we had circulated that evening induced many people to go out to see Nattee, who appeared to take no notice of them; and when asked to tell fortunes, waved them away with her hand. But, although this plan of Melchior's was, for the first two or three days, very expedient, yet, as it was not intended to last, Timothy, who remained with me at the inn, became very intimate with the bar-maid, and obtained from her most of the particulars of her life. I, also, from repeated conversations with the landlady, received information very important, relative to herself and many of the families in the town, but as the employment of Nattee was for an ulterior object, we contented ourselves with gaining all the information we could before we proceeded further.

After we had been there a week, and the fame of the gipsy woman had been marvellously increased--many things having been a.s.serted of her which were indeed truly improbable--Melchior agreed that Timothy should persuade the bar-maid to try if the gipsy woman would tell her fortune: the girl, with some trepidation agreed, but at the same time, expecting to be refused, consented to walk with him over the common. Timothy advised her to pretend to pick up a sixpence when near to Nattee, and ask her if it did not belong to her; and the bar-maid acted upon his suggestions, having just before that quitted the arm of Timothy, who had conducted her.

"Did you drop a sixpence? I have picked up one," said the girl, trembling with fear as she addressed Nattee.

"Child," replied Nattee, who was prepared, "I have neither dropped a sixpence nor have you found one--but never mind that, I know that which you wish, and I know who you are. Now what would you with me? Is it to inquire whether the landlord and landlady of the Golden Lion intend to keep you in their service?"

"No," replied this girl, frightened at what she heard; "not to inquire that, but to ask what my fortune will be?"

"Open your palm, pretty maid, and I will tell you. Hah! I see that you were born in the West--your father is dead--your mother is in service-- and let me see,--you have a brother at sea--now in the West Indies."

At this intelligence, all of which, as may be supposed, had been gathered by us, the poor girl was so frightened that she fell down in a swoon, and Timothy carried her off. When she was taken home to the inn, she was so ill that she was put into bed, and what she did say was so incoherent, that, added to Timothy's narrative, the astonishment of the landlady and others was beyond all bounds. I tried very hard to bring the landlady, but she would not consent; and now Nattee was pestered by people of higher condition, who wished to hear what she would say. Here Nattee's power were brought into play. She would not refuse to see them, but would not give answers till she had asked question and, as from us she had gleaned much general information, so by making this knowledge appear in her questions to them, she made them believe she knew more. If a young person came to her, she would immediately ask the name--of that name she had all the references acquired from us as to family and connexions. Bearing upon them, she would ask a few more, and then give them an abrupt dismissal.

This behaviour was put up with from one of her commanding presence, who refused money, and treated those who accosted her as if she was their superior. Many came again and again, telling her all they knew, and acquainting her with every transaction of their life, to induce her to prophesy, for such, she informed them, was the surest way to call the spirit upon her. By these means we obtained the secret history of the major part, that is, the wealthier part of the town of --; and although the predictions of Nattee were seldom given, yet when given, they were given with such perfect and apparent knowledge of the parties, that when she left, which she did about six weeks after her first appearance, the whole town rang with accounts of her wonderful powers.

It will appear strange that Melchior would not permit Nattee to reap a harvest, which might have been great; but the fact was that he only allowed the seed to be sown that a greater harvest might be gathered hereafter. Nattee disappeared, the gipsies' tent was no longer on the common, and the gra.s.s, which had been beaten down into a road by the feet of the frequent applicants to her, was again permitted to spring up. We also took our departure, and rejoined the camp with Nattee, where we remained for a fortnight, to permit the remembrance of her to subside a little--knowing that the appet.i.te was alive, and would not be satisfied until it was appeased.

After that time Melchior, Timothy, and I, again set off for the town of --, and stopping at a superior inn in another part of the town, dressed as travellers, that is, people who go about the country for orders from the manufacturers, ordered our beds and supper in the coffee-room. The conversation was soon turned upon the wonderful powers of Nattee, the gipsy. "Nonsense," said Melchior, "she knows nothing. I have heard of her. But there's a man coming this way (should he happen to pa.s.s through this town) who will surprise and frighten you. No one knows who he is. He is named the Great Aristodemus. He knows the past, the present, and the future. He never looks at people's hands--he only looks you in the face, and _woe be to them who tell him a lie_.

Otherwise, he is good-tempered and obliging, and will tell what will come to pa.s.s, and his predictions never have been known to fail. They say that he is hundreds of years old, and his hair is while as silver."

At this information many expressed their doubts, and many others vaunted the powers of the gipsy. Melchior replied, "that all he knew was, that for the sum of two guineas paid down, he had told him of a legacy left him of six hundred pounds, which otherwise he would never have known of or received." All the town of -- being quite alive for fortune-telling, this new report gained wind, and after a week's sojourn, Melchior thought that the attempt should be made.

PART ONE, CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

THE SEED HAVING BEEN CAREFULLY SOWN, WE NOW REAP A GOLDEN HARVEST--WE TELL EVERYONE WHAT THEY KNEW BEFORE, AND WE ARE LOOKED UPON AS MOST MARVELLOUS BY MOST MARVELLOUS FOOLS.