Works of Charles Dickens - Charles Dickens [4333]
'If you will be odiously, demnebly, outrIgeously jealous, my soul,' said Mr Mantalini, 'you will be very miserable--horrid miserable--demnition miserable.' And then, there was a sound as though Mr Mantalini were sipping his coffee.
'I AM miserable,' returned Madame Mantalini, evidently pouting.
'Then you are an ungrateful, unworthy, demd unthankful little fairy,' said Mr Mantalini.
'I am not,' returned Madame, with a sob.
'Do not put itself out of humour,' said Mr Mantalini, breaking an egg. 'It is a pretty, bewitching little demd countenance, and it should not be out of humour, for it spoils its loveliness, and makes it cross and gloomy like a frightful, naughty, demd hobgoblin.'
'I am not to be brought round in that way, always,' rejoined Madame, sulkily.
'It shall be brought round in any way it likes best, and not brought round at all if it likes that better,' retorted Mr Mantalini, with his egg-spoon in his mouth.
'It's very easy to talk,' said Mrs Mantalini.
'Not so easy when one is eating a demnition egg,' replied Mr Mantalini; 'for the yolk runs down the waistcoat, and yolk of egg does not match any waistcoat but a yellow waistcoat, demmit.'
'You were flirting with her during the whole night,' said Madame Mantalini, apparently desirous to lead the conversation back to the point from which it had strayed.
'No, no, my life.'
'You were,' said Madame; 'I had my eye upon you all the time.'
'Bless the little winking twinkling eye; was it on me all the time!' cried Mantalini, in a sort of lazy rapture. 'Oh, demmit!'
'And I say once more,' resumed Madame, 'that you ought not to waltz with anybody but your own wife; and I will not bear it, Mantalini, if I take poison first.'
'She will not take poison and have horrid pains, will she?' said Mantalini; who, by the altered sound of his voice, seemed to have moved his chair, and taken up his position nearer to his wife. 'She will not take poison, because she had a demd fine husband who might have married two countesses and a dowager--'
'Two countesses,' interposed Madame. 'You told me one before!'
'Two!' cried Mantalini. 'Two demd fine women, real countesses and splendid fortunes, demmit.'
'And why didn't you?' asked Madame, playfully.
'Why didn't I!' replied her husband. 'Had I not seen, at a morning concert, the demdest little fascinator in all the world, and while that little fascinator is my wife, may not all the countesses and dowagers in England be--'
Mr Mantalini did not finish the sentence, but he gave Madame Mantalini a very loud kiss, which Madame Mantalini returned; after which, there seemed to be some more kissing mixed up with the progress of the breakfast.
'And what about the cash, my existence's jewel?' said Mantalini, when these endearments ceased. 'How much have we in hand?'
'Very little indeed,' replied Madame.
'We must have some more,' said Mantalini; 'we must have some discount out of old Nickleby to carry on the war with, demmit.'
'You can't want any more just now,' said Madame coaxingly.
'My life and soul,' returned her husband, 'there is a horse for sale at Scrubbs's, which it would be a sin and a crime to lose--going, my senses' joy, for nothing.'
'For nothing,' cried Madame, 'I am glad of that.'
'For actually nothing,' replied Mantalini. 'A hundred guineas down will buy him; mane, and crest, and legs, and tail, all of the demdest beauty. I will ride him in the park before the very chariots of the rejected countesses. The demd old dowager will faint with grief and rage; the other two will say "He is married, he has made away with himself, it is a demd thing, it is all up!" They will hate each other demnebly, and wish you dead and buried. Ha! ha! Demmit.'
Madame Mantalini's prudence, if she had any, was not proof against these triumphal pictures; after a little jingling of keys, she observed that she would see what her desk contained,