The Daltons Volume I Part 28

CHAPTER XIX. PREPARATIONS FOR THE ROAD.

IF the arrival of a great family at an hotel be a scene of unusual bustle and excitement, with teeming speculations as to the rank and the wealth of the new-comers, the departure has also its interests, and even of a higher nature. In the former case all is vague, shadowy, and uncertain. The eye of the spectator wanders from the m.u.f.fled figures as they descend, to scrutinize the lackeys, and even the luggage, as indicative of the strangers' habits and condition; and even to the shrewd perceptions of that dread functionary, the head waiter, the ident.i.ty of the traveller a.s.sumes no higher form nor any more tangible shape than that they are No. 42 or 57.

When the hour of leave-taking has come, however, their characters have become known, their tastes and habits understood, and no mean insight obtained into their prejudices, their pa.s.sions, and their pursuits. The imposing old gentleman, whose rubicund nose and white waistcoat are the guarantees for a taste in port, has already inspired the landlord with a sincere regard. "My Lady's" half-invalid caprices about diet, and air, and suns.h.i.+ne, have all written themselves legibly in "the bill." The tall son's champagne score incurred of a night, and uncounted of a morning, are not unrecorded virtues; while even the pale young ladies, whose sketching propensities involved donkeys, and ponies, and picnics, go not unremembered.

Their hours of rising and retiring, their habits of society or seclusion, their preferences for the "Post" or the "Times," have all silently been ministering to the estimate formed of them; so that in the commonest items of the hotel ledger are the materials for their history.

And with what true charity are their characters weighed! How readily does mine host forgive the transgressions which took their origin in his own Burgundy! how blandly smile at the follies begotten of his Johannisberg! With what angelic temper does the hostess pardon the little liberties "young gentlemen from college will take!" Oh, if our dear, dear friends would but read us with half the charity, or even bestow upon our peccadilloes a t.i.the of this forgiveness! And why should it not be so? What are these same friends and acquaintances but guests in the same great inn which we call "the world"? and who, as they never take upon them to settle our score, need surely not trouble themselves about the "items."

While the Daltons were still occupied in the manner our last chapter has described, the "Hotel de Russie" was a scene of considerable bustle, the preparations for departure engaging every department of the household within doors and without. There were carriage-springs to be lashed with new cordage, drag-chains new tipped with steel, axles to smear, hinges to oil, imperials to buckle on, cap-cases to be secured; and then what a deluge of small articles to be stowed away in most minute recesses, and yet be always at hand when called for! cus.h.i.+ons and cordials, and chauffe-pieds and "Quarterlies," smelling-boxes and slippers, and spectacles and cigar-cases, journals and "John Murrays," to be disposed of in the most convenient places. Every corridor and landing was blocked up with baggage, and the courier wiped his forehead, and "sacre'd" in half desperation at the mountain of trunks and portmanteaus that lay before him.

"This is not ours," said he, as he came to a very smart valise of lacquered leather, with the initials A. J. in bra.s.s on the top.

"No, that 's Mr. Jekyl's," said Mr. George's man, Twig. "He ain't a-goin' with you; he travels in our britzska."

"I'm more like de conducteur of a diligenz than a family courier,"

muttered the other, sulkily. "I know noting of de baggage, since we take up strangers at every stage! and always some Teufeln poor devils that have not a sou en poche!"

"What's the matter now, Mister Greg'ry?" said Twig, who very imperfectly understood the other's jargon.

"The matter is, I will resign my 'fonction' je m'en vais dat 's all!

This is noting besser than an 'Eil wagen' mil pa.s.sengers! Fust of all we have de doctor, as dey call him, wid his stuff birds and beasts, his dried blumen and sticks, till de roof is like de Jardin des Plantes at Paris, and he himself like de bear in de middle. Den we have das verfluchte parroquet of milady, and Flounce, de lapdog, dat must drink every post-station, and run up all de hills for exercise. Dam! Ich bin kein Hund, and need n't run up de hills too! Mademoiselle Celestine have a what d' ye call 'Affe' a ape; and though he be little, a reg'lar teufelchen to hide de keys and de money, when he find 'em. And den dere is de yong lady collectin' all de stones off de road, lauter paving-stones, which she smash wid a leetle hammer! Ach Gott, what is de world grow when a Fraulein fall in love wid Felsen and Steine!"

"Monsieur Gregoire! Monsieur Gregoire!" screamed out a sharp voice from a window overhead.

"Mademoiselle," replied he, politely touching his cap to the femme-de-chambre.

"Be good enough, Monsieur Gregoire, to have my trunks taken down; there are two in the fourgon, and a cap-case on the large carriage."

"Hagel and Sturm! dey are under everything. How am I--"

"I can't possibly say," broke she in; "but it must be done."

"Can't you wait, Mademoiselle, till we reach Basle?"

"I'm going away, Monsieur Gregoire. I'm off to Paris," was the reply, as the speaker closed the sash and disappeared.

"What does she say?" inquired Twig, who, as this dialogue was carried on in French, was in total ignorance of its meaning.

"She has given her demission," said the courier, pompously. "Resign her portefeuille, and she have made a very bad affair; dat's all. Your gros milor is very often bien bete; he is very often rude, savage, forget his manners, and all dat but" and here his voice swelled into the full soundness of a perfect connection "but he is alway rich. Ja ja, immer reich!" said he over to himself. "Allons! now to get at her verdammte baggage, de two trunks, and de leetle box, and de ape, and de sac, and de four or five baskets. Diable d'affaire! Monsieur Tig, do me de grace to mount on high dere, and give me dat box."

"I 've nothing to say to your carriage, Mister Greg'ry. I 'm the captain's gentleman, and never do take any but a single-handed situation;" and with this very haughty speech Mr. Twig lighted a fresh cigar and strolled away.

"Alle bose Teufeln holen de good for nichts," sputtered Gregoire, who now waddled into the house to seek for a.s.sistance.

Whatever apathy and indifference he might have met with from the English servants, the people of the hotel were like his bond-slaves. Old and young, men and women, the waiter, and the ostler, and the chambermaid, and that strange species of grande utilite, which in German households goes by the name of "Haus-knecht," a compound of boots, scullion, porter, pimp, and drudge, were all at his command. Nor was he an over-mild monarch; a running fire of abuse and indignity accompanied every order he gave, and he stimulated their alacrity by the most insulting allusions to their personal defects and deficiencies.

Seated upon a capacious cap-case, with his courier's cap set jauntily on one side, his meerschaum like a sceptre in his hand, Gregoire gave out his edicts right royally, and soon the courtyard was strewn with trunks, boxes, and bags of every shape, size, and color. The scene, indeed, was not devoid of tumult; for, while each of the helpers screamed away at the top of his throat, and Gregoire rejoined in shouts that would have done credit to a bull, the parrot gave vent to the most terrific cries and yells as the ape poked him through the bars of his cage with the handle of a parasol.

"There, that's one of them," cried out Monsieur Gregoire; "that round box beside you; down with it here."

"Monsieur Gregoire! Monsieur Gre'goire!" cried Mademoiselle from the window once more.

The courier looked up, and touched his cap.

"I'm not going, Monsieur Gregoire; the affair is arranged."

"Ah! I am charmed to hear it, Mademoiselle," said he, smiling in seeming ecstasy, while he muttered a malediction between his teeth.

"Miladi has made submission, and I forgive everything. You must pardon all the trouble I 've given you."

"These happy tidings have made me forget it," said he, with a smile that verged upon a grin. "Peste!" growled he, under his breath, "we 'd unpacked the whole fourgon."

"Ah, que vous etes aimable!" said she, sighing.

"Belle tigresse!" exclaimed he, returning the leer she bestowed; and the window was once more closed upon her exit. "I submitted to the labor, in the hope we had done with you forever," said he, wiping his forehead; "and la voila there you are back again. Throw that ape down; away wid him, cursed beast!" cried he, venting his spite upon the minion, since he dare not attack the mistress. "But what have we here?"

This latter exclamation was caused by the sudden entrance into the courtyard of two porters carrying an enormous trunk, whose iron fastenings and ma.s.sive padlock gave it the resemblance of an emigrant's sea-chest. A few paces behind walked Mr. Dalton, followed again by Old Andy, who, with a huge oil-silk umbrella under one arm, and a bundle of cloaks, shawls, and hoods on the other, made his way with no small difficulty.

Gregoire surveyed the procession with cool amazement, and then, with a kind of mock civility, he touched his cap, and said, "You have mistak de road, saar; de diligenz-office is over de way."

"And who told you I wanted it?" said Dalton, sternly. "Maybe I'm just where I ought to be! Isn't this Sir Stafford Onslow's coach?"

"Yes, saar; but you please to remember it is not de 'Eil wagen. '"

"Just hold your prate, my little chap, and it will be pleasanter, and safer, ay, safer, too, d'ye mind? You see that trunk there; it 's to go up with the luggage and be kept dry, for there 's valuable effects inside."

"Datis not a trunk; it is a sentry-house, a watch-box. No gentleman's carriage ever support a ting of dat dimension!"

"It 's a trunk, and belongs to me, and my name is Peter Dalton, as the letters there will show you; and so no more about it, but put it up at once."

"I have de orders about a young lady's luggage, but none about a great coffin with iron hoops," said Gregoire, tartly.

"Be quiet, now, and do as I tell you, my little chap. Put these trifles, too, somewhere inside, and this umbrella in a safe spot; and here 's a little basket, with a cold pie and a bottle of wine in it."

"Himmel und Erde! how you tink milady travel mit da.s.s schweinerei?"

"It 's not pork; 't is mutton, and a pigeon in the middle," said Dalton, mistaking his meaning. "I brought a taste of cheese, too; but it 's a trifle high, and maybe it 's as well not to send it."

"Is the leetle old man to go too?" asked Gregoire, with an insolent grin, and not touching the profanation of either cheese or basket.

"That 's my own servant, and he 's not going," said Dalton; "and now that you know my orders, just stir yourself a little, my chap, for I 'm not going to spend my time here with you."

A very deliberate stare, without uttering a word, was all the reply Gregoire returned to this speech; and then, addressing himself to the helpers, he gave some orders in German about the other trunks. Dalton waited patiently for some minutes, but no marks of attention showed that the courier even remembered his presence; and at last he said,

"I 'm waiting to see that trunk put up; d' ye hear me?"