Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 173: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

—_—~— 160 master had fallen in with evil characters—and tha it would have gone hard with him were it not fcr the intervention of a gallant young foreigner who was severely wounded in the conflict. Thus, you see, sir, that if the sbirri told the domestics no more than this, the domestics themselves could tell their master no more: and your name being omitted, it could not possibly be conjectured by him. Tax him not therefore with ungracious levity or ungrateful indifference in dealing with you : he is doing all he can under existing cir- cumstances to display his sense of obligation —— Ah! by the bye, I had forgotten something—and in my haste to acquit myself of my mission, be- cause of the state in which I find you, I had well nigh left a small portion of it unaccomplished.”’ “ Proceed then,” I said; “and make your tale complete.” “The written communication to the magi- strate,’ continued the interpreter, “specifies in detail certain recompenses or services which the personage leaves to your choice. But it further adds that inasmuch as he is unacquainted with zu position and circumstances—and as you may be too opulent to require gold, too proud to accept gifts, and too independent to need a lucrative post —he leaves it to you to name such boon as you aay think fit to ask at his hands, or which he with due regard to personal honour and delicacy may be enabled to grant. And if you require time to reflect thereon, by all means takeit. I am at your orders—I will wait upon you again at your leisure—and in the meanwhile the magis- trate will postpone his response to the written <ommunication. One word more I should add— ‘which is, that the personage referred to is some- what highly placed ; and he declares in his letter that if you ask a boon according to your own prompting, it need not be a small nora scanty one —but he would rather that you should measure it according to the magnitude and importance of the service which you have performed. Now, sir, I think that you will not tax this personage with a churlish want of confidence—much less with in. gratitude.” “ After all you have told me,” I responded, “I do indeed take blame to myself for having just now spoken somewhat hastily and lightly on the point. I beg therefore to recall those words, and to solicit as a fayour that they may not be repeated elsewhere.” “Rest assured, sir,” replied the interpreter, “that I am the last man in existence who would willingly make mischief—especially where so generous and brave a young gentleman as your- self is concerned.” “I thank you for this assurance: and as for all you have been saying to me,” I continued, “I will take a little time to reflect upon it. Indeed, I cannot now continue the discourse. When I feel myself equal to renew it, I will send for you at the magistrate’s office. Have the kindness to give me that purse from the mantel-piece.” The interpreter complied, bowing at the same time with the air of a man who knew he was about to receive a gratuity ; and I made hima liberal present. He then retired; and the mo- ment the door closed behind him, I looked at my watch. It was eleven o’clock: the nurse entered at the instant—and I understood sufficient Italian —_—_— ns oO eee a Ee ——eeeEeEeE——E——————————ee JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. ' to convey to her my wish that a particular waiter should be sent up to me. ee Pe CHAPTER CX, THE APPOINTMENTS, THE waiter for whom I had just sent, understood French; and I was therefore enabled to converse with him at my ease. He was moreover the one who usually attended upon me in my own private apartments: he was civil and obliging, and as little prone to curiosity as a hotel-official could possibly be. “IT have important business to transact,” I said; “and at any risk I must go and execute it. You can assist me in my toilet not a word of remon- strance you see that I am quite able to get up and walk about.” The waiter hastened to obey my mandates: my toilet was soon accomplished—and a sling supported my disabled arm. I then bade him hasten and fetch a hackney-coach: he departed—and in a few minutes returned to announce that it was in readi- ness. The nurse came into the room, and began remonstrating vehemently in Italian: but I cut her short, and walked down stairs—slowly indeed —and supporting myself by the banisters: for the excitement of dressing had almost deprived me of the little strength I possessed. Two or three of the other domestics whom I encountered, looked surprised; and then I overheard them whisper to | each other something about the magistrate’s office. This gave me a hint:—they evidently fancied I was going to furnish my testimony in respect to the transaction wherein I had received my wound. Accordingly, when seated in the vehicle, I told the coachman to drive to the magistrate’s office. On passing away from the hotel, I looked out of the windows of the vehicle to the right and to the left, to see if there were any indications of my move- ments being espied: but I could perceive none. When the equipage had passed through two or three streets, I pulled the check-string : the coach- man stopped and alighted: I told him that [ had altered my mind, and that he was to take me to such and such a street,—naming that in which the Lady Antonia lodged. It was my original inten- tion, according to the plan settled with Avellino, to proceed in a variety of directions and change vehicles three or four times before repairing to my destination, so as to throw any spy off the scent : but this arrangement was made ere I was wounded, and when I had health and strength to execute the precautionary device. Now it was altogether dif- ferent: there was no time to lose—and I was too weak and feeble to beara protracted journey, or to shift from coach to coach. Therefore, at any risk, was I compelled to proceed straight to the street where Antonia dwelt. I had mentioned no specific address; and there- fore the coachman stopped at the entrance of the street. There I alighted—gaye the man a liberal fee —and dismissed the equipage. L looked cautiously about —but could see no one following me: indeed, there were only two or three persons passing in that street, and their I appearance forbade me to take them as spies. —— an DOOKS (c@)