Dr Thorne - Anthony Trollope [133]
‘Ha! ha! ha! Well, I suppose we must be charitable, and say that he is quite as good, at any rate, as many others there are here –’ and Mr Athill, as he spoke, whispered into Frank’s ear, ‘You see there’s Finnie here, another Barchester attorney. Now, I really think where Finnie goes Bolus may go too.’
‘The more the merrier, I suppose,’ said Frank.
‘Well, something a little like that. I wonder why Thorne is not here? I’m sure he was asked.’
‘Perhaps he did not particularly wish to meet Finnie and Bolus. Do you know, Mr Athill, I think he was quite right not to come. As for myself, I wish I was anywhere else.’
‘Ha! ha! ha! You don’t know the duke’s ways yet; and what’s more, you’re young, you happy fellow! But Thorne should have more sense; he ought to show himself here.’
The gormandising was now going on at a tremendous rate. Though the volubility of their tongues had been for a while stopped by the first shock of the duke’s presence, the guests seemed to feel no such constraint upon their teeth. They fed, one may almost say, rabidly, and gave their orders to the servants in an eager manner; much more impressive than that usual at smaller parties. Mr Apjohn, who sat immediately opposite to Frank, had, by some well-planned manoeuvre, contrived to get before him the jowl of a salmon; but, unfortunately, he was not for a while equally successful in the article of sauce. A very limited portion – so at least thought Mr Apjohn – had been put on his plate; and a servant, with a huge sauce tureen, absolutely passed behind his back inattentive to his audible requests. Poor Mr Apjohn in his despair turned round to arrest the man by his coat-tails; but he was a moment too late, and all but fell backwards on the floor. As he righted himself he muttered an anathema, and looked with a face of mute anguish at his plate.
‘Anything the matter, Apjohn?’ said Mr Fothergill, kindly, seeing the utter despair written on the poor man’s countenance; ‘can I get anything for you?’
‘The sauce!’ said Mr Apjohn, in a voice that would have melted a hermit; and as he looked at Mr Fothergill, he pointed at the now distant sinner, who was dispensing his melted ambrosia at least ten heads upwards, away from the unfortunate supplicant.
Mr Fothergill, however, knew where to look for balm for such wounds, and in a minute or two Mr Apjohn was employed quite to his heart’s content.
‘Well,’ said Frank to his neighbour, ‘it may be very well once in a way; but I think that on the whole Dr Thorne is right.’
‘My dear Mr Gresham, see the world on all sides,’ said Mr Athill, who had also been somewhat intent on the gratification of his own appetite, though with an energy less evident than that of the gentleman opposite. ‘See the world on all sides if you have an opportunity; and, believe me, a good dinner now and then is a very good thing.’
‘Yes; but I don’t like eating it with hogs.’
‘Whish-h! softly, softly, Mr Gresham, or you’ll disturb Mr Apjohn’s digestion. Upon my word, he’ll want it all before he has done. Now, I like this kind of thing once in a way.’
‘Do you?’ said Frank, in a tone that was almost savage.
‘Yes; indeed I do. One sees so much character. And after all, what harm does it do?’
‘My idea is that people should live with those whose society is pleasant to them.’
‘Live – yes, Mr Gresham – I agree with you there. It wouldn’t do for me to live with the Duke of Omnium; I shouldn’t understand, or probably approve, his ways. Nor should I, perhaps, much like the constant presence of Mr Apjohn. But now and then – once in a year or so – I do own I like to see them both. Here’s the cup; now whatever you do, Mr Gresham, don’t pass the cup without tasting it.’
And so the dinner passed on, slowly enough as Frank thought, but all too quickly for Mr Apjohn. It passed away, and the wine came circulating freely. The tongues again were loosed, the teeth being released from their labours, and under the influence of the claret the duke’s presence was forgotten.
But very speedily the coffee