The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman - Laurence Sterne [115]
—’tis a long journey, Sir, replied the master of the inn——unless a man has great business.—Tut! tut! said the stranger, I have been at the promontory of Noses; and have got me one of the goodliest and jolliest, thank heaven, that ever fell to a single man’s lot.
Whilst the stranger was giving this odd account of himself, the master of the inn and his wife kept both their eyes fixed full upon the stranger’s nose—By saint Radagunda,11 said the inn-keeper’s wife to herself, there is more of it than in any dozen of the largest noses put together in all Strasburg! is it not, said she, whispering her husband in his ear, is it not a noble nose?
’Tis an imposture, my dear, said the master of the inn—’tis a false nose.—
’Tis a true nose, said his wife.—
’Tis made of fir-tree, said he,—I smell the turpentine.—
There’s a pimple on it, said she.
Mortuus est nasus, respondit hospes.
Vivus est, ait illa,——& si ipsa vivam tangam.
Votum feci sancto Nicolao, ait peregrinus, nasum meum intactum fore usque ad—Quodnam tempus? illico respondit illa.
Minime tangetur, inquit ille (manibus in pectus compositis) usque ad illam horam—Quam horam? ait illa.—Nullam, respondit peregrinus, donec pervenio, ad—Quem locum,—obsecro? ait illa—Peregrinus nil respondens mulo conscenso discessit.
’Tis a dead nose, replied the inn-keeper.
’Tis a live nose, and if I am alive myself, said the inn-keeper’s wife, I will touch it.
I have made a vow to saint Nicolas this day, said the stranger, that my nose shall not be touched till—Here the stranger, suspending his voice, looked up—Till when? said she hastily.
It never shall be touched, said he, clasping his hands and bringing them close to his breast, till that hour.——What hour? cried the innkeeper’s wife.——Never!—never! said the stranger, never till I am got—For heaven sake into what place? said she.—The stranger rode away without saying a word.
The stranger had not got half a league on his way towards Frankfort, before all the city of Strasburg was in an uproar about his nose. The Compline-bells12 were just ringing to call the Strasburgers to their devotions, and shut up the duties of the day in prayer:——no soul in all Strasburg heard ’em—the city was like a swarm of bees——men, women, and children (the Compline-bells tinkling all the time) flying here and there—in at one door, out at another—this way and that way—long ways and cross ways—up one street, down another street—in at this ally, out at that——did you see it? did you see it? did you see it? O! did you see it?—who saw it? who did see it? for mercy’s sake, who saw it?
Alack o’day! I was at vespers!——I was washing, I was starching, I was scouring, I was quilting—GOD help me! I never saw it—I never touch’d it!——would I had been a centinel, a bandy-leg’d drummer, a trumpeter, a trumpeter’s wife, was the general cry and lamentation in every street and corner of Strasburg.
Whilst all this confusion and disorder triumphed throughout the great city of Strasburg, was the courteous stranger going on as gently upon his mule in his way to Frankfort, as if he had had no concern at all in the affair—talking all the way he rode in broken sentences, sometimes to his mule—sometimes to himself——sometimes to his Julia.
O Julia, my lovely Julia!—nay I cannot stop to let thee bite that thistle—that ever the suspected tongue of a rival should have robbed me of enjoyment when I was upon the point of tasting it.—
—Pugh!—’tis nothing but a thistle—never mind it—thou shalt have a better supper at night.—
——Banish’d from my country—my friends—from thee.—
Poor devil, thou’rt sadly tired with thy journey!—come—get on a little faster—there’s nothing in my cloak-bag but two shirts—a crimson-sattin pair of breeches, and a fringed—Dear Julia!
—But why to Frankfort?—is it that there is a hand unfelt, which secretly is conducting me through these meanders and unsuspected tracts?—
—Stumbling! by