beg your pardon, Sir,’ said Mr Feeder, reddening. ‘I beg your pardon, Doctor Blimber.’
‘And when,’ said the Doctor, raising his voice, ‘when, Sir, as we read, and have no reason to doubt—incredible as it may appear to the vulgar—of our time—the brother of Vitellius prepared for him a feast, in which were served, of fish, two thousand dishes—’
‘Take some water, Johnson—dishes, Sir,’ said Mr Feeder.
‘Of various sorts of fowl, five thousand dishes.’
‘Or try a crust of bread,’ said Mr Feeder.
‘And one dish,’ pursued Doctor Blimber, raising his voice still higher as he looked all round the table, ‘called, from its enormous dimensions, the Shield of Minerva, and made, among other costly ingredients, of the brains of pheasants—’
‘Ow, ow, ow!’ (from Johnson.)
‘Woodcocks—’
‘Ow, ow, ow!’
‘The sounds of the fish called scari—’
‘You’ll burst some vessel in your head,’ said Mr Feeder. ‘You had better let it come.’
‘And the spawn of the lamprey, brought from the Carpathian Sea,’ pursued the Doctor, in his severest voice; ‘when we read of costly entertainments such as these, and still remember, that we have a Titus—’
‘What would be your mother’s feelings if you died of apoplexy!’ said Mr Feeder.
‘A Domitian—’
‘And you’re blue, you know,’ said Mr Feeder.
‘A Nero, a Tiberius, a Caligula, a Heliogabalus, and many more, pursued the Doctor; ‘it is, Mr Feeder—if you are doing me the honour to attend—remarkable; VERY remarkable, Sir—’
But Johnson, unable to suppress it any longer, burst at that moment into such an overwhelming fit of coughing, that although both his immediate neighbours thumped him on the back, and Mr Feeder himself held a glass of water to his lips, and the butler walked him up and down several times between his own chair and the sideboard, like a sentry, it was a full five minutes before he was moderately composed. Then there was a profound silence.
‘Gentlemen,’ said Doctor Blimber, ‘rise for Grace! Cornelia, lift Dombey down’—nothing of whom but his scalp was accordingly seen above the tablecloth. ‘Johnson will repeat to me tomorrow morning before breakfast, without book, and from the Greek Testament, the first chapter of the Epistle of Saint Paul to the Ephesians. We will resume our studies, Mr Feeder, in half-an-hour.’
The young gentlemen bowed and withdrew. Mr Feeder did likewise. During the half-hour, the young gentlemen, broken into pairs, loitered arm-in-arm up and down a small piece of ground behind the house, or endeavoured to kindle a spark of animation in the breast of Briggs. But nothing happened so vulgar as play. Punctually at the appointed time, the gong was sounded, and the studies, under the joint auspices of Doctor Blimber and Mr Feeder, were resumed.
As the Olympic game of lounging up and down had been cut shorter than usual that day, on Johnson’s account, they all went out for a walk before tea. Even Briggs (though he hadn’t begun yet) partook of this dissipation; in the enjoyment of which he looked over the cliff two or three times darkly. Doctor Blimber accompanied them; and Paul had the honour of being taken in tow by the Doctor himself: a distinguished state of things, in which he looked very little and feeble.
Tea was served in a style no less polite than the dinner; and after tea, the young gentlemen rising and bowing as before, withdrew to fetch up the unfinished tasks of that day, or to get up the already looming tasks of to-morrow. In the meantime Mr Feeder withdrew to his own room; and Paul sat in a corner wondering whether Florence was thinking of him, and what they were all about at Mrs Pipchin’s.
Mr Toots, who had been detained by an important letter from the Duke of Wellington, found Paul out after a time; and having looked at him for a long while, as before, inquired if he was fond of waistcoats.
Paul said ‘Yes, Sir.’
‘So am I,’ said Toots.
No word more spoke Toots that night; but he stood looking at Paul as if he liked him; and as there was company in that, and Paul was not inclined to talk, it answered his purpose better than conversation.
At eight o’clock or so, the gong sounded again for prayers in the dining-room, where the butler afterwards presided over a side-table, on which bread and cheese and beer were spread for such young gentlemen as desired to partake of those refreshments. The ceremonies concluded by the Doctor’s saying, ‘Gentlemen, we will resume our studies at seven to-morrow;’ and then, for the first time, Paul saw Cornelia Blimber’s eye, and saw that it was upon him. When the Doctor had said these words, ‘Gentlemen, we will resume our studies at seven tomorrow,’ the pupils bowed again, and went to bed.
In the confidence of their own room upstairs, Briggs said his head ached ready to split, and that he should wish himself dead if it wasn’t for his mother, and a blackbird he had at home. Tozer didn’t say much, but he sighed a good deal, and told Paul to look out, for his turn would come to-morrow. After uttering those prophetic words, he undressed himself moodily, and got into bed. Briggs was in his bed too, and Paul in his bed too, before the weak-eyed young man appeared to take away the candle, when he wished them good-night and pleasant dreams. But his benevolent wishes were in vain, as far as Briggs and Tozer were concerned; for Paul, who lay awake for a long while, and often woke afterwards, found that Briggs was ridden by his lesson as a nightmare: and that Tozer, whose mind was affected in his sleep by similar causes, in a minor degree talked unknown tongues, or scraps of Greek and Latin—it was all one to Paul—which, in the silence of night, had an inexpressibly wicked and guilty effect.
Paul had sunk into a sweet sleep, and dreamed that he was walking hand in hand with Florence through beautiful gardens, when they came to a large sunflower which suddenly expanded itself into a gong, and began to sound. Opening his eyes, he found that it was a dark, windy morning, with a drizzling rain: and that the real gong was giving dreadful note of preparation, down in the hall.
So he got up directly, and found Briggs with hardly any eyes, for nightmare and grief had made his face puffy, putting his boots on: while Tozer stood shivering and rubbing his shoulders in a very bad humour. Poor Paul couldn’t dress himself easily, not being used to it, and asked them if they would have the goodness to tie some strings for him; but as Briggs merely said ‘Bother!’ and Tozer, ‘Oh yes!’ he went down when he was otherwise ready, to the next storey, where he saw a pretty young woman in leather gloves, cleaning a stove. The young woman seemed surprised at his appearance, and asked him where his mother was. When Paul told her she was dead, she took her gloves off, and did what he wanted; and furthermore rubbed his hands to warm them; and gave him a kiss; and told him whenever he wanted anything of that sort—meaning in the dressing way—to ask for ‘Melia; which Paul, thanking her very much, said he certainly would. He then proceeded softly on his journey downstairs, towards the room in which the young gentlemen resumed their studies, when, passing by a door that stood ajar, a voice from within cried, ‘Is that Dombey?’ On Paul replying, ‘Yes, Ma’am:’ for he knew the voice to be Miss Blimber’s: Miss Blimber said, ‘Come in, Dombey.’ And in he went.
Miss Blimber presented exactly the appearance
