I assure you, Sir, I’m not to be used in this manner, and I won’t bear it — curse me if I will!”
“Why, hey-day!” cried the Captain, “what, is master in a passion? — well, don’t be angry:— come, he shan’t hurt you; — here, shake a paw with him:— why, he’ll do you no harm, man! — come, kiss and be friends!”
“Who, I?” cried Mr. Lovel, almost mad with vexation; “as I’m a living creature, I would not touch him for a thousand worlds!”
“Send him a challenge,” cried Mr. Coverley, “and I’ll be your second.”
“Ay, do,” said the Captain; “and I’ll be second to my friend, Monseer Clapperclaw here. Come to it at once! — tooth and nail!”
“God forbid!” cried Mr. Lovel, retreating, “I would sooner trust my person with a mad bull!”
“I don’t like the look of him myself,” said Lord Merton, “for he grins most horribly.”
“Oh, I’m frightened out of my senses!” cried Lady Louisa, “take him away, or I shall die!”
“Captain,” said Lord Orville, “the ladies are alarmed; and I must beg you would send the monkey away.”
“Why, where can be the mighty harm of one monkey more than another?” answered the Captain: “howsomever, if its agreeable to the ladies, suppose we turn them out together?”
“What do you mean by that, Sir?” cried Mr. Lovel, lifting up his cane.
“What do you mean?” cried the Captain, fiercely, “be so good as to down with your cane.”
Poor Mr. Lovel, too much intimidated to stand his ground, yet too much enraged to submit, turned hastily round, and, forgetful of consequences, vented his passion by giving a furious blow to the monkey.
The creature darting forwards, sprung instantly upon him; and, clinging round his neck, fastened his teeth to one of his ears.
I was really sorry for the poor man; who, though an egregious fop, had committed no offence that merited such chastisement.
It was impossible now to distinguish whose screams were loudest, those of Mr. Lovel, or of the terrified Lady Louisa, who I believe, thought her own turn was approaching: but the unrelenting Captain roared with joy.
Not so Lord Orville: ever humane, generous, and benevolent he quitted his charge, who he saw was wholly out of danger, and seizing the monkey by the collar, made him loosen the ear; and then with a sudden swing, flung him out of the room, and shut the door.
Poor Mr. Lovel, almost fainting with terror, sunk upon the floor, crying out, “Oh, I shall die, I shall die! — Oh, I’m bit to death!”
“Captain Mirvan,” said Mrs. Beaumont, with no little indignation, “I must own I don’t perceive the wit of this action; and I am sorry to have such cruelty practised in my house.”
“Why Lord, Ma’am,” said the Captain, when his rapture abated sufficiently for speech, “how could I tell they’d fall out so? — By jingo, I brought him to be a messmate for t’other.”
“Egad,” said Mr. Coverley, “I would not have been served so for a thousand pounds.”
“Why, then, there’s the odds of it,” said the Captain; “for you see he is served so for nothing. But come,” turning to Mr. Lovel, “be of good heart, all may end well yet, and you and Monseer Longtail be as good friends as ever.”
“I’m surprised, Mrs. Beaumont,” cried Mr. Lovel, starting up, “that you can suffer a person under your roof to be treated so inhumanly.”
“What argufies so many words?” said the unfeeling Captain; “it is but a slit of the ear; it only looks as if you had been in the pillory.”
“Very true,” added Mrs. Selwyn; “and who knows but it may acquire you the credit of being an anti-ministerial writer?”
“I protest,” cried Mr. Lovel, looking ruefully at his dress, “my new riding suit’s all over blood!”
“Ha, ha, ha,” cried the Captain, “see what comes of studying for an hour what you shall put on!”
Mr. Lovel then walked to the glass; and, looking at the place, exclaimed, “Oh heaven, what a monstrous wound! my ear will never be fit to be seen again!”
“Why then,” said the Captain, “you must hide it; —’tis but wearing a wig.”
“A wig!” repeated the affrighted Mr. Lovel; “I wear a wig? — no, not if you would give me a thousand pounds an hour!”
“I declare,” said Lady Louisa, “I never heard such a shocking proposal in my life!”
Lord Orville, then, seeing no prospect that the altercation would cease, proposed to the Captain to walk. He assented; and having given Mr. Lovel a nod of exultation, accompanied his Lordship down stairs.
“‘Pon honour,” said Mr. Lovel, the moment the door was shut, “that fellow is the greatest brute in nature! he ought not to be admitted into a civilized society.”
“Lovel,” said Mr. Coverley, affecting to whisper, “you must certainly pink him: you must not put up with such an affront.”
“Sir,” said Mr. Lovel, “with any common person I should not deliberate an instant; but really with a fellow who has done nothing but fight all his life, ‘pon honour, Sir, I can’t think of it!”
“Lovel,” said Lord Merton, in the same voice, “you must call him to account.”
“Every man,” said he, pettishly, “is the best judge of his own affairs; and I don’t ask the honour of any person’s advice.”
“Egad, Lovel,” said Mr. Coverley, “you’re in for it! — you can’t possibly be off!”
“Sir,” cried he, very impatiently, “upon any proper occasion I should be as ready to show my courage as any body; but as to fighting for such a trifle as this — I protest I should blush to think of it!”
“A trifle!” cried Mrs. Selwyn, “good Heaven! and have you made this astonishing riot about a trifle?”
“Ma’am,” answered the poor wretch, in great confusion, “I did not know at first but that my cheek might have been bit; but as ’tis no worse, why, it does not a great deal signify. Mrs. Beaumont, I have the honour to wish you a good evening; I’m sure my carriage must be waiting.” And then, very abruptly, he left the room.
What a commotion has this mischief-loving Captain raised! Were I to remain here long, even the society of my dear Maria could scarce compensate for the disturbances which he excites.
When he returned, and heard of the quiet exit of Mr. Lovel, his triumph was intolerable. “I think, I think,” he cried, “I have peppered him well! I’ll warrant he won’t give an hour tomorrow morning to settling what he shall put on; why, his coat,” turning to me, “would be a most excellent match for old Madame Furbelow’s best Lyons silk! ‘Fore George, I’d desire no better sport than
