had kept her bed all day, and declares she is almost bruised to death.
Adieu, my dear Sir. What a long letter have I written! I could almost fancy I sent it to you from London!
LETTER 34
EVELINA IN CONTINUATION
Howard Grove, May 15.
This insatiable Captain, if left to himself, would not, I believe, rest, till he had tormented Madame Duval into a fever. He seems to have no delight but in terrifying or provoking her; and all his thoughts apparently turn upon inventing such methods as may do it most effectually.
She had her breakfast again in bed yesterday morning: but during ours, the Captain, with a very significant look at Sir Clement, gave us to understand, that he thought she had now rested long enough to bear the hardships of a fresh campaign.
His meaning was obvious: and, therefore, I resolved to endeavour immediately to put a stop to his intended exploits. When breakfast was over, I followed Mrs. Mirvan out of the parlour, and begged her to lose no time in pleading the cause of Madame Duval with the Captain. “My love,” answered she, “I have already expostulated with him; but all I can say is fruitless, while his favourite, Sir Clement, contrives to urge him on.”
“Then I will go and speak to Sir Clement,” said I, “for I know he will desist if I request him.”
“Have I care, my dear!” said she, smiling: “it is sometimes dangerous to make requests to men who are too desirous of receiving them.”
“Well, then, my dear Madam, will you give me leave to speak myself to the Captain?”
“Willingly: nay, I will accompany you to him.”
I thanked her, and we went to seek him. He was walking in the garden with Sir Clement. Mrs. Mirvan most obligingly made an opening for my purpose, by saying, “Mr. Mirvan, I have brought a petitioner with me.”
“Why, what’s the matter now?” cried he.
I was fearful of making him angry, and stammered very much, when I told him, I hoped he had no new plan for alarming Madame Duval.
“New plan!” cried he; “why, you don’t suppose the old one would do again, do you? Not but what it was a very good one, only I doubt she wouldn’t bite.”
“Indeed, Sir,” said I, “she had already suffered too much; and I hope you will pardon me, if I take the liberty of telling you, that I think it my my duty to do all in my power to prevent her being again so much terrified.”
A sullen gloominess instantly clouded his face, and, turning short from me, he said, I might do as I pleased, but that I should much sooner repent than repair my officiousness.
I was too much disconcerted at this rebuff to attempt making any answer: and finding that Sir Clement warmly espoused my cause, I walked away, and left them to discuss the point together.
Mrs. Mirvan, who never speaks to the Captain when he is out of humour, was glad to follow me, and with her usual sweetness made a thousand apologies for her husband’s ill-manners.
When I left her, I went to Madame Duval, who was just risen, and employed in examining the clothes she had on the day of her ill usage.
“Here’s a sight!” she cried. “Come, here child — only look — Pardi, so long as I’ve lived, I never see so much before! Why, all my things are spoilt; and what’s worse, my sacque was as good as new. Here’s the second negligee I’ve used in this manner! — I’m sure I was a fool to put it on in such a lonesome place as this; however if I stay here these ten years, I’ll never put on another good gown, that I’m resolved.”
“Will you let the maid try if she can iron it out, or clean it, Ma’am?”
“No, she’ll only make bad worse. — But look here, now, here’s a cloak! Mon Dieu! why it looks like a dish-clout! Of all the unluckiness that ever I met, this is the worst! for, do you know, I bought it but the day before I left Paris! — Besides, into the bargain, my cap’s quite gone: where the villain twitched it, I don’t know; but I never see no more of it from that time to this. Now you must know that this was the becomingest cap I had in the world, for I’ve never another with pink ribbon in it; and, to tell you the truth, if I hadn’t thought to have seen M. Du Bois, I’d no more have put it on than I’d have flown; for as to what one wears in such a stupid place as this, it signifies no more than nothing at all.”
She then told me, that she had been thinking all night of a contrivance to hinder the Captain from finding out her loss of curls; which was having a large gauge handkerchief pinned over her head as a hood, and saying she had the tooth-ache.
“To tell you the truth,” added she, “I believe that Captain is one of the worst men in the world; he’s always making a joke of me; and as to his being a gentleman, he has no more manners than a bear, for he’s always upon the grin when one’s in distress; and, I declare I’d rather be done anything to than laughed at, for, to my mind, it’s one or other the disagreeablest thing in the world.”
Mrs. Mirvan, I found, had been endeavouring to dissuade her from the design she had formed of having recourse to the law, in order to find out the supposed robbers; for she dreads a discovery of the Captain, during Madam Duval’s stay at Howard Grove, as it could not fail being productive of infinite commotion. She has, therefore, taken great pains to show the inutility of applying to justice, unless she were more able to describe the offenders against whom she would appear; and has assured her, that as she neither heard their voices, nor saw their faces, she cannot possibly swear to their persons, or obtain any redress.
Madame Duval, in telling me this, extremely lamented her hard fate, that she was thus prevented from revenging her injuries; which, however, she vowed she would not be persuaded to pocket tamely: “because,” added she, “if such villains as these are let to have their own way, and nobody takes no notice of their impudence, they’ll make no more ado than nothing at all of tying people in ditches, and such things as that: however, I shall consult with M. Du Bois, as soon as I can ferret out where he’s hid himself. I’m sure I’ve a right to his advice, for it’s all along of his gaping about at the Tower that I’ve met with these misfortunes.”
“M. Du Bois,” said I, “will, I am sure, be very sorry when he hears what has happened.”
“And what good will that do now? — that won’t unspoil all my clothes; I can tell him, I a’n’t much obliged to him, though it’s no fault of his; — yet it i’n’t the less provokinger for that. I’m sure, if he had been there, to have seen me served in that manner, and put neck and heels into a ditch, he’d no more have thought it was me than the Pope of Rome. I’ll promise you, whatever you may think of it, I sha’n’t have no rest, night nor day, till I find out that rogue.”
“I have no doubt, Madam, but you will soon discover him.”
“Pardi, if I do, I’ll hang him, as sure as fate! — but what’s the oddest, is, that he should take such a special spite against me above all the rest! it was as much for nothing as could be; for I don’t know what I had done, so particular bad, to
