A Sentimental Journey | Page 9

went off
with a mistress, and came by assignation to Calais for that purpose; -
- You can never after, cried Hypocrisy aloud, show your face in the
world;--or rise, quoth Meanness, in the church;--or be any thing in it,
said Pride, but a lousy prebendary.
But 'tis a civil thing, said I;--and as I generally act from the first
impulse, and therefore seldom listen to these cabals, which serve no
purpose, that I know of, but to encompass the heart with adamant--I
turned instantly about to the lady. -
- But she had glided off unperceived, as the cause was pleading, and
had made ten or a dozen paces down the street, by the time I had made
the determination; so I set off after her with a long stride, to make her
the proposal, with the best address I was master of: but observing she
walk'd with her cheek half resting upon the palm of her hand,--with the
slow short-measur'd step of thoughtfulness,--and with her eyes, as she
went step by step, fixed upon the ground, it struck me she was trying
the same cause herself.--God help her! said I, she has some
mother-in-law, or tartufish aunt, or nonsensical old woman, to consult
upon the occasion, as well as myself: so not caring to interrupt the
process, and deeming it more gallant to take her at discretion than by
surprise, I faced about and took a short turn or two before the door of
the Remise, whilst she walk'd musing on one side.
IN THE STREET. CALAIS.
Having, on the first sight of the lady, settled the affair in my fancy "that
she was of the better order of beings;"--and then laid it down as a
second axiom, as indisputable as the first, that she was a widow, and
wore a character of distress,--I went no further; I got ground enough for
the situation which pleased me;--and had she remained close beside my
elbow till midnight, I should have held true to my system, and
considered her only under that general idea.
She had scarce got twenty paces distant from me, ere something within
me called out for a more particular enquiry;--it brought on the idea of a
further separation: --I might possibly never see her more: --The heart is

for saving what it can; and I wanted the traces through which my
wishes might find their way to her, in case I should never rejoin her
myself; in a word, I wished to know her name,--her family's--her
condition; and as I knew the place to which she was going, I wanted to
know from whence she came: but there was no coming at all this
intelligence; a hundred little delicacies stood in the way. I form'd a
score different plans.-- There was no such thing as a man's asking her
directly;--the thing was impossible.
A little French debonnaire captain, who came dancing down the street,
showed me it was the easiest thing in the world: for, popping in betwixt
us, just as the lady was returning back to the door of the Remise, he
introduced himself to my acquaintance, and before he had well got
announced, begg'd I would do him the honour to present him to the
lady.--I had not been presented myself;--so turning about to her, he did
it just as well, by asking her if she had come from Paris? No: she was
going that route, she said.-- Vous n'etes pas de Londres?--She was not,
she replied.--Then Madame must have come through
Flanders.--Apparemment vous etes Flammande? said the French
captain.--The lady answered, she was.--Peut etre de Lisle? added
he.--She said, she was not of Lisle.--Nor Arras?--nor Cambray?--nor
Ghent?--nor Brussels?--She answered, she was of Brussels.
He had had the honour, he said, to be at the bombardment of it last
war;--that it was finely situated, pour cela,--and full of noblesse when
the Imperialists were driven out by the French (the lady made a slight
courtesy)--so giving her an account of the affair, and of the share he
had had in it,--he begg'd the honour to know her name,--so made his
bow.
- Et Madame a son Mari?--said he, looking back when he had made
two steps,--and, without staying for an answer--danced down the street.
Had I served seven years apprenticeship to good breeding, I could not
have done as much.
THE REMISE. CALAIS.
As the little French captain left us, Mons. Dessein came up with the
key of the Remise in his hand, and forthwith let us into his magazine of
chaises.
The first object which caught my eye, as Mons. Dessein open'd the
door of the Remise, was another old tatter'd desobligeant; and

notwithstanding it was the exact picture of that which had hit my fancy
so much in the coach-yard but an hour before,--the very