« iepriekšējāTurpināt »
turn), from top to toe he looked fit for a ball at Almack's or a fête at Bridgewater House: and, oh! how unsuited to the old-fashioned homestead at Rutherford West! His trousers? were of the finest materials ;3 his coat was claret colour of the latest cut; his waistcoat—talk of the great peacock, he would have seemed dingy and dusky beside such a splendour of colour!-his waistcoat literally dazzled poor Susan's eyes; and his rings, and chains, and studs, and brooches, seemed, to the wondering girl, almost sufficient to stock a jeweller's shop.
In spite of all this nonsense, it was clear to her, from every look and word, that she was not mistaken in believing William unchanged in mind and disposition, and that there was a warm and a kind heart beating under the finery. Moreover, she felt, that if the unseemly magnificence could once be thrown aside, the whiskers and mustachios cleared away, and his fine manly person reinstated in the rustic costume in which she had been accustomed to see him, her brother would then appear greatly improved in face and figure, taller, more vigorous, and with an expression of intelligence and frankness delightful to behold. But how to get quit of the finery, and the Frenchman, and the britschka? Or how reconcile her father to iniquities so far surpassing even the smell of musk ?
William, on his part, regarded his sister with unqualified admiration. He had left a laughing blooming girl : he found a delicate and lovely young woman-all the more lovely for the tears that mingled with her smiles, true tokens of a most pure affection.
And you really are glad to see me, Susy? And my father ist well? And here is the old place, looking just as it used to do ;5 house, and ricks, and barnyard, not quite in sight, but one feels that one shall see them at the next turning—the great coppice, right opposite, looking thicker and greener than ever !—how often we have gone nutting in that coppice !—the tall holly at the gate, with the woodbine climbing up and twisting its sweet garlands
1 mais aussi, combien ces vêtements étaient peu en harmonie avec. 4 va ; or, se porte, 2 See page 147, note 15.
5 Simply, “as formerly.'
round the very topmost spray, like a coronet. Many a time and often have I climbed the holly to twine the flaunting wreath round your straw-bonnet, Miss Susy. And here, on the other side of the hedge, is the very
fieid where Hector and Harebell ran? their famous course, and gave? their hare fifty turns before they killed her, without ever letting her get out of the stubble.
Those were pleasant days, Susan, after all !"
Happy days, dear William !” “ And we shall go nutting again, shall we not ?”3
Surely, dear brother! Oniy—"and Susan suddenly stopped.
“Only what, Miss Susy?"
“Only I don't see how you can possibly go4 into the copse in this dress. Think how the brambles would prick and tear, and how that chain would catch in the hazel stems and as to climbing the holly tree in that fine tight coat, or beating the stubbles for a hare in those delicate thin shoes, why the thing is out of the question. And I really don't believe,” continued Susan, finding it easier to go on than to begin, “I really don't believe that either Hector or Harebell would know you if they saw you so decked out."
William laughed outright.7
“I don't mean to go coursing in these shoes, I assure you, Susy. This is an evening dress. I have a shootingjacket and all thereunto belonging in the britschka, which will not puzzle either Harebell or Hector, because it's just what they have been used to see me wear.”
“Put it on, then, I beseech you !” exclaimed Susy; “put it on directly!”
" Why, I am not going coursing this evening."
did but know how he hates finery, and foreigners, and whiskers
1 Use faire ; or rather, as faire 4 Simply, 'how it will be poscomes twice just below, construct sible for you to go.' See page 39, thus, 'where took place the famous note 3, and page 43, note 10. course between Hand H-'
2 firent faire à (page 108, 6 il ne faut pas même y penser: note ),
? partit d'un grand éclui de rire. 3 See page 72, note 11.
any more than
and britschkas! Oh, dear William, send off the French gentleman and the outlandish carriage-run into the coppice and put on the shooting-dress!
Oh, Susan !” began William ; but Susan having once summoned up courage sufficient? to put her remonstrances into words, followed up the attack with an earnestness that did not admit a moment's interruption.
“My father hates finery even more than Harebell or Hector would do. You know his country notions, dear William ; and I think that latterly he has hated everything that looks Londonish and new-fangled worse than
We are old-fashioned people at Rutherford. There's your pretty old friend Mary Arnott can't? abide gewgaws
my father.' Mary Arnott! You mean Mrs. Giles. What do I care for 3 her likes and dislikes ? ” exclaimed William, haughtily.
“I mean Mary Arnott, and not Mrs. Giles, and you do care for her likes and dislikes a great deal,” replied his sister, with some archness. “ Poor Mary, when the week before that fixed for the wedding arrived, felt that she could not marry Master Jacob Giles ; so she found an opportunity of speaking to him alone, and told him the truth. I even believe, although I have no warrant for saying so, that she confessed she could not love him because she loved another.4 Master Giles behaved like a wise man, and told her father that it would be very wrong to force her inclinations. He behaved kindly as well as wisely, for he endeavoured to reconcile all parties, and put matters in train for the wedding that had hindered his. This, at that time, Master Arnott would not hear of, and therefore we did not tell you that the marriage, which you took for granted, had gone off
. Till about three months ago, that odious lawsuit was in full action, and Master Arnott as violently set against my father as ever. Then, however, he was taken 5 ill, and, upon his death-bed, he sent for his old friend, begged his pardon, and appointed him guardian
&c.,' moque bien de; or, Je m'inquiète s'armer d'assez de courage.
fort peu de. 2 who can't.'
4 See page 158, note 10. 3 Que me font, à moi ; or, Je me
5 he fell.'
i to summor up
to Mary. And there she is at home—for she would not come to meet you—but there she is, hoping to find you just what you were when you went away, and hating britschkas, and finery, and the smell of musk, just as if she were my father's daughter in good earnest. dear William, I know what has been passing in your mind, quite as well as if hearts were peep-shows,' and one could see to the bottom of them at the rate of a penny a look. I know that you went away for love of Mary, and flung yourself into the finery of London to try to get rid of the thought of her, and came down with all this nonsense of britschkas, and whiskers, and waistcoats, and rings, just to show her what a beau she had lost in losing you-Did not you now? Well! don't stand squeezing my band, but go and meet your French friend, who has got a man, I see, to help to pick up the fallen equipage. Go and get rid of him," quoth Susan.
“How can I ?” exclaimed William, in laughing perplexity.
“Give him the britschka !” responded his sister, “and send them off together as fast as may be. That will be a magnificent farewell. And then take your portmanteau into the copse, and change all this trumpery for the shooting-jacket and its belongings; and come back and let me trim these whiskers as closely as scissors can trim them, and then we'll go to the farm, to gladden the hearts of Harebell, Hector, my dear father, and—somebody else;" and it will not be that somebody's fault if ever you go to London again, or get into a britschka, or put on a chain, or a ring, or write with blue ink upon pink paper, as long
Now go and dismiss your friend,” added Susan, laughing, “and we'll walk home together the happiest brother and sister in Christendom.”—(Miss MITFORD, Country Stories.) i des optiques.
? quelqu'un encore.
as you live.
THE BATTLE OF PHARSALIA. (48 B. C.) CÆSAR had en ployed all his art for some time in sounding the inclinations of his men ; 2 and finding them once more resolute and vigorous, he advanced towards the plains of Pharsalia, where Pompey was encamped. The approach of the two armies, composed of the best and bravest troops in the world, together with the greatness of the prize for which they contended, filled every mind with anxiety, though with different expectation. Pompey's army being most numerous, turned 4 all their thoughts to the enjoyment of the victory ; Cæsar's, with better aim,5 considered only the means of obtaining it. Pompey's army depended upon their numbers, and their many generals ; 6 Cæsar's upon their discipline, and the couduct of their single commander. Pompey's partisans hoped much from the justice of their cause ; Cæsar's alleged the frequent proposals which they had made for peace 7 without effect. Thus the views, hopes, and motives of both 8 1 See page 38, note 5.
note ?.—When 'men' is used, in a 2 Simply, des siens. The dis- general way, in the sense which it junctive possessive pronouns, le bas above, in our text, we may mien, le tien, le sien, &c., are so also render it by soldats, or monde, used in the plural, in various but hardly by hommes : in a more senses : they mean, according to restricted sense, however, hommes is circumstances, relatives,' 'race,' used, as, e.g., '« Ce général perdit • fellow-countrymen,' subjects trois mille hommes (3000 men) dans (people),''men (soldiers),' &c. See cette rencontre."
3 jointe à. TÉLÉMAQUE (edition annotated by 4 See page 41, note ?. Observe, my worthy friend, M. C. J. De- here, that ennemi, used collectively, lille, London, Bell and Daldy,) follows the same rule. “Idoménée craignait d'arriver par
5 mieux avisée. mi les siens (his people),”-page sur l'avantage (or, la supé79. And farther on, page 90, "Les riorité) du nombre tant de ses soltiens (thy dynasty) cesseront de dats que de ses généraux (see page régner,"
&c. See also my anne 21, no proposals of peace which,' &c. tated edition of LA FONTAINE, page 15, note 5, and page 32, 8 of both parties.'