the white domino, “from any other assailant: no three-headed Cerberus could protect you more effectually: but you will not, therefore, fancy yourself in the lower regions, for, if I mistake not, the torment of three guardians is nothing new to you.”
“And how,” said Cecilia, surprised, “should you know of my three guardians? I hope I am not quite encompassed with evil spirits!”
“No,” answered he; “you will find me as inoffensive as the hue of the domino I wear; —— and would I could add as insensible!”
“This black gentleman,” said the schoolmaster, “who, and very innocently, I was going to call your black-guard, has as noble and fiend-like a disposition as I remember to have seen; for without even attempting to take any diversion himself, he seems gratified to his heart’s content in excluding from it the lady he serves.”
“He does me an honour I could well dispense with,” said Cecilia; “but I hope he has some secret satisfaction in his situation which pays him for its apparent inconvenience.”
Here the black gentleman half-raised himself, and attempted to take her hand. She started, and with much displeasure drew it back. He then growled, and again sank prostrate.
“This is a fiend,” said the schoolmaster, “who to himself sayeth, Budge not! let his conscience never so often say budge! Well, fair lady, your fortifications, however, may now be deemed impregnable, since I, with a flourish of my rod, can keep off the young by recollection of the past, and since the fiend, with a jut of his foot, may keep off the old from dread of the future!”
Here a Turk, richly habited and resplendent with jewels, stalked towards Cecilia, and, having regarded her some time, called out, “I have been looking hard about me the whole evening, and, faith, I have seen nothing handsome before!”
The moment he opened his mouth, his voice, to her utter astonishment, betrayed Sir Robert Floyer! “Mercy on me,” cried she aloud, and pointing to the fiend, “who, then, can this possibly be?”
“Do you not know?” cried the white domino.
“I thought I had known with certainty,” answered she, “but I now find I was mistaken.”
“He is a happy man,” said the schoolmaster, sarcastically looking at the Turk, “who has removed your suspicions only by appearing in another character!”
“Why, what the deuce, then,” exclaimed the Turk, “have you taken that black dog there for me?”
Before this question could be answered, an offensive smell of soot, making everybody look around the room, the chimney-sweeper already mentioned by Miss Larolles was perceived to enter it. Every way he moved a passage was cleared for him, as the company, with general disgust, retreated wherever he advanced.
He was short, and seemed somewhat incommoded by his dress; he held his soot-bag over one arm, and his shovel under the other. As soon as he espied Cecilia, whose situation was such as to prevent her eluding him, he hooted aloud, and came stumping up to her; “Ah ha,” he cried, “found at last;” then, throwing down his shovel, he opened the mouth of his bag, and pointing waggishly to her head, said, “Come, shall I pop you? — a good place for naughty girls; in, I say, poke in! — cram you up the chimney.”
And then he put forth his sooty hands to reach her cap.
Cecilia, though she instantly knew the dialect of her guardian Mr Briggs, was not therefore the more willing to be so handled, and started back to save herself from his touch; the white domino also came forward, and spread out his arms as a defence to her, while the devil, who was still before her, again began to growl.
“Ah ha!” cried the chimney-sweeper, laughing, “so did not know me? Poor duck! won’t hurt you; don’t be frightened; nothing but old guardian; all a joke!” And then, patting her cheek with his dirty hand, and nodding at her with much kindness, “Pretty dove,” he added, “be of good heart! shan’t be meddled with; come to see after you. Heard of your tricks; thought I’d catch you! — come o’ purpose. — Poor duck! did not know me! ha! ha! — good joke enough!”
“What do you mean, you dirty dog,” cried the Turk, “by touching that lady?”
“Won’t tell!” answered he; “not your business. Got a good right. Who cares for pearls? Nothing but French beads.” Pointing with a sneer to his turban. Then, again addressing Cecilia, “Fine doings!” he continued, “Here’s a place! never saw the like before! turn a man’s noddle! — All goings out; no comings in; wax candles in every room; servants thick as mushrooms! And where’s the cash? Who’s to pay the piper? Come to more than a guinea; warrant Master Harrel thinks that nothing!”
“A guinea?” contemptuously repeated the Turk, “and what do you suppose a guinea will do?”
“What? Why, keep a whole family handsome a week; — never spend so much myself; no, nor half neither.”
“Why then, how the devil do you live? Do you beg?”
“Beg? Who should I beg of? You? — Got anything to give? Are warm?”
“Take the trouble to speak more respectfully, sir!” said the Turk, haughtily; “I see you are some low fellow, and I shall not put up with your impudence.”
“Shall, shall! I say!” answered the chimneysweeper, sturdily; “Hark’ee, my duck,” chucking Cecilia under the chin, “don’t be cajoled, nick that spark! never mind gold trappings; none of his own; all a take-in; hired for eighteenpence; not worth a groat. Never set your heart on a fine outside, nothing within. Bristol stones won’t buy stock: only wants to chouse you.”
“What do you mean by that, you little old scrub!” cried the imperious Turk; “would you provoke me to soil my fingers by pulling that beastly snub nose?” For Mr Briggs had saved himself any actual mask, by merely blacking his face with soot.
“Beastly snub nose!” sputtered out the chimneysweeper in much wrath, “good nose enough; don’t want a better; good as another man’s. Where’s the harm on’t?”
“How could this blackguard get in?” cried the Turk, “I believe he’s a mere common chimneysweeper out of the streets, for he’s all over dirt and filth. I never saw such a dress at a masquerade before in my life.”
“All the better,” returned the other; “would not change. What do think it cost?”
“Cost? Why, not a crown.”
“A crown? ha! ha! — a pot o’ beer! Little Tom borrowed it; had it of our own sweep. Said ’twas for himself. I bid him a pint; rascal would not take less.”
“Did your late uncle,” said the white domino in a low voice to Cecilia, “chuse for two of your guardians Mr Harrel and Mr Briggs, to give you an early lesson upon the opposite errors of profusion and meanness?”
“My uncle?” cried Cecilia, starting, “were you acquainted with my uncle?”
“No,” said he, “for my happiness I knew him not.”
“You would have owed no loss of happiness to an acquaintance with him,” said Cecilia, very seriously, “for he was one who dispensed to his friends nothing but good.”
“Perhaps
