Works of Charles Dickens - Charles Dickens [5394]
Whether this young gentleman (for he was but three-and-twenty) combined with the miserly vice of an old man, any of the open-handed vices of a young one, was a moot point; so very honourably did he keep his own counsel. He was sensible of the value of appearances as an investment, and liked to dress well; but he drove a bargain for every moveable about him, from the coat on his back to the china on his breakfast-table; and every bargain by representing somebody's ruin or somebody's loss, acquired a peculiar charm for him. It was a part of his avarice to take, within narrow bounds, long odds at races; if he won, he drove harder bargains; if he lost, he half starved himself until next time. Why money should be so precious to an Ass too dull and mean to exchange it for any other satisfaction, is strange; but there is no animal so sure to get laden with it, as the Ass who sees nothing written on the face of the earth and sky but the three letters L. S. D.--not Luxury, Sensuality, Dissoluteness, which they often stand for, but the three dry letters. Your concentrated Fox is seldom comparable to your concentrated Ass in money-breeding.
Fascination Fledgeby feigned to be a young gentleman living on his means, but was known secretly to be a kind of outlaw in the bill-broking line, and to put money out at high interest in various ways. His circle of familiar acquaintance, from Mr Lammle round, all had a touch of the outlaw, as to their rovings in the merry greenwood of Jobbery Forest, lying on the outskirts of the Share-Market and the Stock Exchange.
'I suppose you, Lammle,' said Fledgeby, eating his bread and butter, 'always did go in for female society?'
'Always,' replied Lammle, glooming considerably under his late treatment.
'Came natural to you, eh?' said Fledgeby.
'The sex were pleased to like me, sir,' said Lammle sulkily, but with the air of a man who had not been able to help himself.
'Made a pretty good thing of marrying, didn't you?' asked Fledgeby.
The other smiled (an ugly smile), and tapped one tap upon his nose.
'My late governor made a mess of it,' said Fledgeby. 'But Geor--is the right name Georgina or Georgiana?'
'Georgiana.'
'I was thinking yesterday, I didn't know there was such a name. I thought it must end in ina.
'Why?'
'Why, you play--if you can--the Concertina, you know,' replied Fledgeby, meditating very slowly. 'And you have--when you catch it--the Scarlatina. And you can come down from a balloon in a parach--no you can't though. Well, say Georgeute--I mean Georgiana.'
'You were going to remark of Georgiana--?' Lammle moodily hinted, after waiting in vain.
'I was going to remark of Georgiana, sir,' said Fledgeby, not at all pleased to be reminded of his having forgotten it, 'that she don't seem to be violent. Don't seem to be of the pitching-in order.'
'She has the gentleness of the dove, Mr Fledgeby.'
'Of course you'll say so,' replied Fledgeby, sharpening, the moment his interest was touched by another. 'But you know, the real look-out is this:--what I say, not what you say. I say having my late governor and my late mother in my eye--that Georgiana don't seem to be of the pitching-in order.'
The respected Mr Lammle was a bully, by nature and by usual practice. Perceiving, as Fledgeby's affronts cumulated, that conciliation by no means answered the purpose here, he now directed a scowling look into Fledgeby's small eyes for the effect of the opposite treatment. Satisfied by what he saw there, he burst into a violent passion and struck his hand upon the table, making the china ring and dance.
'You are a very offensive fellow, sir,' cried Mr Lammle, rising. 'You are a highly offensive scoundrel. What do you mean by this behaviour?'
'I say!' remonstrated Fledgeby. 'Don't break out.'
'You are a very offensive fellow sir,' repeated Mr Lammle. 'You are a highly offensive scoundrel!'
'I SAY, you know!' urged Fledgeby, quailing.