Chapter 32

by Charles Dickens

　　Relating chiefly to some remarkable Conversation, and someremarkable Proceedings to which it gives rise'London at last!' cried Nicholas, throwing back his greatcoat androusing Smike from a long nap. 'It seemed to me as though we shouldnever reach it.''And yet you came along at a tidy pace too,' observed the coachman,looking over his shoulder at Nicholas with no very pleasantexpression of countenance.'Ay, I know that,' was the reply; 'but I have been very anxious tobe at my journey's end, and that makes the way seem long.''Well,' remarked the coachman, 'if the way seemed long with suchcattle as you've sat behind, you must have been most uncommonanxious;' and so saying, he let out his whip-lash and touched up alittle boy on the calves of his legs by way of emphasis.They rattled on through the noisy, bustling, crowded street ofLondon, now displaying long double rows of brightly-burning lamps,dotted here and there with the chemists' glaring lights, andilluminated besides with the brilliant flood that streamed from thewindows of the shops, where sparkling jewellery, silks and velvetsof the richest colours, the most inviting delicacies, and mostsumptuous articles of luxurious ornament, succeeded each other inrich and glittering profusion. Streams of people apparently withoutend poured on and on, jostling each other in the crowd and hurryingforward, scarcely seeming to notice the riches that surrounded themon every side; while vehicles of all shapes and makes, mingled uptogether in one moving mass, like running water, lent theirceaseless roar to swell the noise and tumult.As they dashed by the quickly-changing and ever-varying objects, itwas curious to observe in what a strange procession they passedbefore the eye. Emporiums of splendid dresses, the materialsbrought from every quarter of the world; tempting stores ofeverything to stimulate and pamper the sated appetite and give newrelish to the oft-repeated feast; vessels of burnished gold andsilver, wrought into every exquisite form of vase, and dish, andgoblet; guns, swords, pistols, and patent engines of destruction;screws and irons for the crooked, clothes for the newly-born, drugsfor the sick, coffins for the dead, and churchyards for the buried--all these jumbled each with the other and flocking side by side,seemed to flit by in motley dance like the fantastic groups of theold Dutch painter, and with the same stern moral for the unheedingrestless crowd.Nor were there wanting objects in the crowd itself to give new pointand purpose to the shifting scene. The rags of the squalid ballad-singer fluttered in the rich light that showed the goldsmith'streasures, pale and pinched-up faces hovered about the windows wherewas tempting food, hungry eyes wandered over the profusion guardedby one thin sheet of brittle glass--an iron wall to them; half-nakedshivering figures stopped to gaze at Chinese shawls and goldenstuffs of India. There was a christening party at the largestcoffin-maker's and a funeral hatchment had stopped some greatimprovements in the bravest mansion. Life and death went hand inhand; wealth and poverty stood side by side; repletion andstarvation laid them down together.But it was London; and the old country lady inside, who had put herhead out of the coach-window a mile or two this side Kingston, andcried out to the driver that she was sure he must have passed it andforgotten to set her down, was satisfied at last.Nicholas engaged beds for himself and Smike at the inn where thecoach stopped, and repaired, without the delay of another moment, tothe lodgings of Newman Noggs; for his anxiety and impatience hadincreased with every succeeding minute, and were almost beyondcontrol.There was a fire in Newman's garret; and a candle had been leftburning; the floor was cleanly swept, the room was as comfortablyarranged as such a room could be, and meat and drink were placed inorder upon the table. Everything bespoke the affectionate care andattention of Newman Noggs, but Newman himself was not there.'Do you know what time he will be home?' inquired Nicholas, tappingat the door of Newman's front neighbour.'Ah, Mr Johnson!' said Crowl, presenting himself. 'Welcome, sir.How well you're looking! I never could have believed--''Pardon me,' interposed Nicholas. 'My question--I am extremelyanxious to know.''Why, he has a troublesome affair of business,' replied Crowl, 'andwill not be home before twelve o'clock. He was very unwilling togo, I can tell you, but there was no help for it. However, he leftword that you were to make yourself comfortable till he came back,and that I was to entertain you, which I shall be very glad to do.'In proof of his extreme readiness to exert himself for the generalentertainment, Mr Crowl drew a chair to the table as he spoke, andhelping himself plentifully to the cold meat, invited Nicholas andSmike to follow his example.Disappointed and uneasy, Nicholas could touch no food, so, after hehad seen Smike comfortably established at the table, he walked out(despite a great many dissuasions uttered by Mr Crowl with his mouthfull), and left Smike to detain Newman in case he returned first.As Miss La Creevy had anticipated, Nicholas betook himself straightto her house. Finding her from home, he debated within himself forsome time whether he should go to his mother's residence, and socompromise her with Ralph Nickleby. Fully persuaded, however, thatNewman would not have solicited him to return unless there was somestrong reason which required his presence at home, he resolved to gothere, and hastened eastwards with all speed.Mrs Nickleby would not be at home, the girl said, until past twelve,or later. She believed Miss Nickleby was well, but she didn't liveat home now, nor did she come home except very seldom. She couldn'tsay where she was stopping, but it was not at Madame Mantalini's.She was sure of that.With his heart beating violently, and apprehending he knew not whatdisaster, Nicholas returned to where he had left Smike. Newman hadnot been home. He wouldn't be, till twelve o'clock; there was nochance of it. Was there no possibility of sending to fetch him ifit were only for an instant, or forwarding to him one line ofwriting to which he might return a verbal reply? That was quiteimpracticable. He was not at Golden Square, and probably had beensent to execute some commission at a distance.Nicholas tried to remain quietly where he was, but he felt sonervous and excited that he could not sit still. He seemed to belosing time unless he was moving. It was an absurd fancy, he knew,but he was wholly unable to resist it. So, he took up his hat andrambled out again.He strolled westward this time, pacing the long streets with hurriedfootsteps, and agitated by a thousand misgivings and apprehensionswhich he could not overcome. He passed into Hyde Park, now silentand deserted, and increased his rate of walking as if in the hope ofleaving his thoughts behind. They crowded upon him more thickly,however, now there were no passing objects to attract his attention;and the one idea was always uppermost, that some stroke of ill-fortune must have occurred so calamitous in its nature that all werefearful of disclosing it to him. The old question arose again andagain--What could it be? Nicholas walked till he was weary, but wasnot one bit the wiser; and indeed he came out of the Park at last agreat deal more confused and perplexed than when he went in.He had taken scarcely anything to eat or drink since early in themorning, and felt quite worn out and exhausted. As he returnedlanguidly towards the point from which he had started, along one ofthe thoroughfares which lie between Park Lane and Bond Street, hepassed a handsome hotel, before which he stopped mechanically.'An expensive place, I dare say,' thought Nicholas; 'but a pint ofwine and a biscuit are no great debauch wherever they are had. Andyet I don't know.'He walked on a few steps, but looking wistfully down the long vistaof gas-lamps before him, and thinking how long it would take toreach the end of it and being besides in that kind of mood in whicha man is most disposed to yield to his first impulse--and being,besides, strongly attracted to the hotel, in part by curiosity, andin part by some odd mixture of feelings which he would have beentroubled to define--Nicholas turned back again, and walked into thecoffee-room.It was very handsomely furnished. The walls were ornamented withthe choicest specimens of French paper, enriched with a gildedcornice of elegant design. The floor was covered with a richcarpet; and two superb mirrors, one above the chimneypiece and oneat the opposite end of the room reaching from floor to ceiling,multiplied the other beauties and added new ones of their own toenhance the general effect. There was a rather noisy party of fourgentlemen in a box by the fire-place, and only two other personspresent--both elderly gentlemen, and both alone.Observing all this in the first comprehensive glance with which astranger surveys a place that is new to him, Nicholas sat himselfdown in the box next to the noisy party, with his back towards them,and postponing his order for a pint of claret until such time as thewaiter and one of the elderly gentlemen should have settled adisputed question relative to the price of an item in the bill offare, took up a newspaper and began to read.He had not read twenty lines, and was in truth himself dozing, whenhe was startled by the mention of his sister's name. 'Little KateNickleby' were the words that caught his ear. He raised his head inamazement, and as he did so, saw by the reflection in the oppositeglass, that two of the party behind him had risen and were standingbefore the fire. 'It must have come from one of them,' thoughtNicholas. He waited to hear more with a countenance of someindignation, for the tone of speech had been anything butrespectful, and the appearance of the individual whom he presumed tohave been the speaker was coarse and swaggering.This person--so Nicholas observed in the same glance at the mirrorwhich had enabled him to see his face--was standing with his back tothe fire conversing with a younger man, who stood with his back tothe company, wore his hat, and was adjusting his shirt-collar by theaid of the glass. They spoke in whispers, now and then burstinginto a loud laugh, but Nicholas could catch no repetition of thewords, nor anything sounding at all like the words, which hadattracted his attention.At length the two resumed their seats, and more wine being ordered,the party grew louder in their mirth. Still there was no referencemade to anybody with whom he was acquainted, and Nicholas becamepersuaded that his excited fancy had either imagined the soundsaltogether, or converted some other words into the name which hadbeen so much in his thoughts.'It is remarkable too,' thought Nicholas: 'if it had been "Kate" or"Kate Nickleby," I should not have been so much surprised: but"little Kate Nickleby!"'The wine coming at the moment prevented his finishing the sentence.He swallowed a glassful and took up the paper again. At thatinstant--'Little Kate Nickleby!' cried the voice behind him.'I was right,' muttered Nicholas as the paper fell from his hand.'And it was the man I supposed.''As there was a proper objection to drinking her in heel-taps,' saidthe voice, 'we'll give her the first glass in the new magnum.Little Kate Nickleby!''Little Kate Nickleby,' cried the other three. And the glasses wereset down empty.Keenly alive to the tone and manner of this slight and carelessmention of his sister's name in a public place, Nicholas fired atonce; but he kept himself quiet by a great effort, and did not eventurn his head.'The jade!' said the same voice which had spoken before. 'She's atrue Nickleby--a worthy imitator of her old uncle Ralph--she hangsback to be more sought after--so does he; nothing to be got out ofRalph unless you follow him up, and then the money comes doublywelcome, and the bargain doubly hard, for you're impatient and heisn't. Oh! infernal cunning.''Infernal cunning,' echoed two voices.Nicholas was in a perfect agony as the two elderly gentlemenopposite, rose one after the other and went away, lest they shouldbe the means of his losing one word of what was said. But theconversation was suspended as they withdrew, and resumed with evengreater freedom when they had left the room.'I am afraid,' said the younger gentleman, 'that the old woman hasgrown jea-a-lous, and locked her up. Upon my soul it looks likeit.''If they quarrel and little Nickleby goes home to her mother, somuch the better,' said the first. 'I can do anything with the oldlady. She'll believe anything I tell her.''Egad that's true,' returned the other voice. 'Ha, ha, ha! Poordeyvle!'The laugh was taken up by the two voices which always came intogether, and became general at Mrs Nickleby's expense. Nicholasturned burning hot with rage, but he commanded himself for themoment, and waited to hear more.What he heard need not be repeated here. Suffice it that as thewine went round he heard enough to acquaint him with the charactersand designs of those whose conversation he overhead; to possess himwith the full extent of Ralph's villainy, and the real reason of hisown presence being required in London. He heard all this and more.He heard his sister's sufferings derided, and her virtuous conductjeered at and brutally misconstrued; he heard her name bandied frommouth to mouth, and herself made the subject of coarse and insolentwagers, free speech, and licentious jesting.The man who had spoken first, led the conversation, and indeedalmost engrossed it, being only stimulated from time to time by someslight observation from one or other of his companions. To him thenNicholas addressed himself when he was sufficiently composed tostand before the party, and force the words from his parched andscorching throat.'Let me have a word with you, sir,' said Nicholas.'With me, sir?' retorted Sir Mulberry Hawk, eyeing him in disdainfulsurprise.'I said with you,' replied Nicholas, speaking with great difficulty,for his passion choked him.'A mysterious stranger, upon my soul!' exclaimed Sir Mulberry,raising his wine-glass to his lips, and looking round upon hisfriends.'Will you step apart with me for a few minutes, or do you refuse?'said Nicholas sternly.Sir Mulberry merely paused in the act of drinking, and bade himeither name his business or leave the table.Nicholas drew a card from his pocket, and threw it before him.'There, sir,' said Nicholas; 'my business you will guess.'A momentary expression of astonishment, not unmixed with someconfusion, appeared in the face of Sir Mulberry as he read the name;but he subdued it in an instant, and tossing the card to LordVerisopht, who sat opposite, drew a toothpick from a glass beforehim, and very leisurely applied it to his mouth.'Your name and address?' said Nicholas, turning paler as his passionkindled.'I shall give you neither,' replied Sir Mulberry.'If there is a gentleman in this party,' said Nicholas, lookinground and scarcely able to make his white lips form the words, 'hewill acquaint me with the name and residence of this man.'There was a dead silence.'I am the brother of the young lady who has been the subject ofconversation here,' said Nicholas. 'I denounce this person as aliar, and impeach him as a coward. If he has a friend here, he willsave him the disgrace of the paltry attempt to conceal his name--andutterly useless one--for I will find it out, nor leave him until Ihave.'Sir Mulberry looked at him contemptuously, and, addressing hiscompanions, said--'Let the fellow talk, I have nothing serious to say to boys of hisstation; and his pretty sister shall save him a broken head, if hetalks till midnight.''You are a base and spiritless scoundrel!' said Nicholas, 'and shallbe proclaimed so to the world. I will know you; I will follow youhome if you walk the streets till morning.'Sir Mulberry's hand involuntarily closed upon the decanter, and heseemed for an instant about to launch it at the head of hischallenger. But he only filled his glass, and laughed in derision.Nicholas sat himself down, directly opposite to the party, and,summoning the waiter, paid his bill.'Do you know that person's name?' he inquired of the man in anaudible voice; pointing out Sir Mulberry as he put the question.Sir Mulberry laughed again, and the two voices which had alwaysspoken together, echoed the laugh; but rather feebly.'That gentleman, sir?' replied the waiter, who, no doubt, knew hiscue, and answered with just as little respect, and just as muchimpertinence as he could safely show: 'no, sir, I do not, sir.''Here, you sir,' cried Sir Mulberry, as the man was retiring; 'doyou know that person's name?''Name, sir? No, sir.''Then you'll find it there,' said Sir Mulberry, throwing Nicholas'scard towards him; 'and when you have made yourself master of it, putthat piece of pasteboard in the fire--do you hear me?'The man grinned, and, looking doubtfully at Nicholas, compromisedthe matter by sticking the card in the chimney-glass. Having donethis, he retired.Nicholas folded his arms, and biting his lip, sat perfectly quiet;sufficiently expressing by his manner, however, a firm determinationto carry his threat of following Sir Mulberry home, into steadyexecution.It was evident from the tone in which the younger member of theparty appeared to remonstrate with his friend, that he objected tothis course of proceeding, and urged him to comply with the requestwhich Nicholas had made. Sir Mulberry, however, who was not quitesober, and who was in a sullen and dogged state of obstinacy, soonsilenced the representations of his weak young friend, and furtherseemed--as if to save himself from a repetition of them--to insiston being left alone. However this might have been, the younggentleman and the two who had always spoken together, actually roseto go after a short interval, and presently retired, leaving theirfriend alone with Nicholas.It will be very readily supposed that to one in the condition ofNicholas, the minutes appeared to move with leaden wings indeed, andthat their progress did not seem the more rapid from the monotonousticking of a French clock, or the shrill sound of its little bellwhich told the quarters. But there he sat; and in his old seat onthe opposite side of the room reclined Sir Mulberry Hawk, with hislegs upon the cushion, and his handkerchief thrown negligently overhis knees: finishing his magnum of claret with the utmost coolnessand indifference.Thus they remained in perfect silence for upwards of an hour--Nicholas would have thought for three hours at least, but that thelittle bell had only gone four times. Twice or thrice he lookedangrily and impatiently round; but there was Sir Mulberry in thesame attitude, putting his glass to his lips from time to time, andlooking vacantly at the wall, as if he were wholly ignorant of thepresence of any living person.At length he yawned, stretched himself, and rose; walked coolly tothe glass, and having surveyed himself therein, turned round andhonoured Nicholas with a long and contemptuous stare. Nicholasstared again with right good-will; Sir Mulberry shrugged hisshoulders, smiled slightly, rang the bell, and ordered the waiter tohelp him on with his greatcoat.The man did so, and held the door open.'Don't wait,' said Sir Mulberry; and they were alone again.Sir Mulberry took several turns up and down the room, whistlingcarelessly all the time; stopped to finish the last glass of claretwhich he had poured out a few minutes before, walked again, put onhis hat, adjusted it by the glass, drew on his gloves, and, at last,walked slowly out. Nicholas, who had been fuming and chafing untilhe was nearly wild, darted from his seat, and followed him: soclosely, that before the door had swung upon its hinges after SirMulberry's passing out, they stood side by side in the streettogether.There was a private cabriolet in waiting; the groom opened theapron, and jumped out to the horse's head.'Will you make yourself known to me?' asked Nicholas in a suppressedvoice.'No,' replied the other fiercely, and confirming the refusal with anoath. 'No.''If you trust to your horse's speed, you will find yourselfmistaken,' said Nicholas. 'I will accompany you. By Heaven I will,if I hang on to the foot-board.''You shall be horsewhipped if you do,' returned Sir Mulberry.'You are a villain,' said Nicholas.'You are an errand-boy for aught I know,' said Sir Mulberry Hawk.'I am the son of a country gentleman,' returned Nicholas, 'yourequal in birth and education, and your superior I trust ineverything besides. I tell you again, Miss Nickleby is my sister.Will you or will you not answer for your unmanly and brutalconduct?''To a proper champion--yes. To you--no,' returned Sir Mulberry,taking the reins in his hand. 'Stand out of the way, dog. William,let go her head.''You had better not,' cried Nicholas, springing on the step as SirMulberry jumped in, and catching at the reins. 'He has no commandover the horse, mind. You shall not go--you shall not, I swear--till you have told me who you are.'The groom hesitated, for the mare, who was a high-spirited animaland thorough-bred, plunged so violently that he could scarcely holdher.'Leave go, I tell you!' thundered his master.The man obeyed. The animal reared and plunged as though it woulddash the carriage into a thousand pieces, but Nicholas, blind to allsense of danger, and conscious of nothing but his fury, stillmaintained his place and his hold upon the reins.'Will you unclasp your hand?''Will you tell me who you are?''No!''No!'In less time than the quickest tongue could tell it, these wordswere exchanged, and Sir Mulberry shortening his whip, applied itfuriously to the head and shoulders of Nicholas. It was broken inthe struggle; Nicholas gained the heavy handle, and with it laidopen one side of his antagonist's face from the eye to the lip. Hesaw the gash; knew that the mare had darted off at a wild madgallop; a hundred lights danced in his eyes, and he felt himselfflung violently upon the ground.He was giddy and sick, but staggered to his feet directly, roused bythe loud shouts of the men who were tearing up the street, andscreaming to those ahead to clear the way. He was conscious of atorrent of people rushing quickly by--looking up, could discern thecabriolet whirled along the foot-pavement with frightful rapidity--then heard a loud cry, the smashing of some heavy body, and thebreaking of glass--and then the crowd closed in in the distance, andhe could see or hear no more.The general attention had been entirely directed from himself to theperson in the carriage, and he was quite alone. Rightly judgingthat under such circumstances it would be madness to follow, heturned down a bye-street in search of the nearest coach-stand,finding after a minute or two that he was reeling like a drunkenman, and aware for the first time of a stream of blood that wastrickling down his face and breast.