Catherine: A Story | Page 8

were gospel
truth or splendid wit! above all what bad liquor canst thou make us
swallow when thou puttest a kiss within the cup--and we are content to
call the poison wine!
The mountain-wine at the "Bugle" was, in fact, execrable; but Mrs. Cat,
who served it to the two soldiers, made it so agreeable to them, that
they found it a passable, even a pleasant task, to swallow the contents
of a second bottle. The miracle had been wrought instantaneously on
her appearance: for whereas at that very moment the Count was
employed in cursing the wine, the landlady, the wine-grower, and the
English nation generally, when the young woman entered and
(choosing so to interpret the oaths) said, "Coming, your honour; I think
your honour called"--Gustavus Adolphus whistled, stared at her very
hard, and seeming quite dumb-stricken by her appearance, contented
himself by swallowing a whole glass of mountain by way of reply.

Mr. Brock was, however, by no means so confounded as his captain: he
was thirty years older than the latter, and in the course of fifty years of
military life had learned to look on the most dangerous enemy, or the
most beautiful woman, with the like daring, devil-may-care
determination to conquer.
"My dear Mary," then said that gentleman, "his honour is a lord; as
good as a lord, that is; for all he allows such humble fellows as I am to
drink with him."
Catherine dropped a low curtsey, and said, "Well, I don't know if you
are joking a poor country girl, as all you soldier gentlemen do; but his
honour LOOKS like a lord: though I never see one, to be sure."
"Then," said the Captain, gathering courage, "how do you know I look
like one, pretty Mary?"
"Pretty Catherine: I mean Catherine, if you please, sir."
Here Mr. Brock burst into a roar of laughter, and shouting with many
oaths that she was right at first, invited her to give him what he called a
buss.
Pretty Catherine turned away from him at this request, and muttered
something about "Keep your distance, low fellow! buss indeed; poor
country girl," etc. etc., placing herself, as if for protection, on the side
of the Captain. That gentleman looked also very angry; but whether at
the sight of innocence so outraged, or the insolence of the Corporal for
daring to help himself first, we cannot say. "Hark ye, Mr. Brock," he
cried very fiercely, "I will suffer no such liberties in my presence:
remember, it is only my condescension which permits you to share my
bottle in this way; take care I don't give you instead a taste of my cane."
So saying, he, in a protecting manner, placed one hand round Mrs.
Catherine's waist, holding the other clenched very near to the
Corporal's nose.
Mrs. Catherine, for HER share of this action of the Count's, dropped
another curtsey and said, "Thank you, my Lord." But Galgenstein's

threat did not appear to make any impression on Mr. Brock, as indeed
there was no reason that it should; for the Corporal, at a combat of
fisticuffs, could have pounded his commander into a jelly in ten
minutes; so he contented himself by saying, "Well, noble Captain,
there's no harm done; it IS an honour for poor old Peter Brock to be at
table with you, and I AM sorry, sure enough."
"In truth, Peter, I believe thou art; thou hast good reason, eh, Peter? But
never fear, man; had I struck thee, I never would have hurt thee."
"I KNOW you would not," replied Brock, laying his hand on his heart
with much gravity; and so peace was made, and healths were drunk.
Miss Catherine condescended to put her lips to the Captain's glass; who
swore that the wine was thus converted into nectar; and although the
girl had not previously heard of that liquor, she received the
compliment as a compliment, and smiled and simpered in return.
The poor thing had never before seen anybody so handsome, or so
finely dressed as the Count; and, in the simplicity of her coquetry,
allowed her satisfaction to be quite visible. Nothing could be more
clumsy than the gentleman's mode of complimenting her; but for this,
perhaps, his speeches were more effective than others more delicate
would have been; and though she said to each, "Oh, now, my Lord,"
and "La, Captain, how can you flatter one so?" and "Your honour's
laughing at me," and made such polite speeches as are used on these
occasions, it was manifest from the flutter and blush, and the grin of
satisfaction which lighted up the buxom features of the little country
beauty, that the Count's first operations had been highly successful.
When following up his attack, he produced from his neck a