Peregrine's Progress Part 10

"Here is a very moving story!" said I.

"It is, Peregrine, it is, egad--and consequently I have been moving ever since and going to the devil as fast as I can, though sadly hampered by lack of funds."

"What do you mean by 'going to the devil?'"

"Why, there are many ways, Peregrine, as of course you know, but mine would be ale, beer, wine, brandy--had I the necessary money."

"Are you determined on it?"

"Absolutely!" said he, taking off his battered hat to scowl at it and clap it on again. "Absolutely, Peregrine--I am firmly determined to drink myself to the final exodus."

"How much money should you require, Anthony?"

At this he turned to stare with an expression of whimsical dubiety and thereafter fell to rubbing his unshaven chin as rather at a loss.

"Let us say fifty guineas--no, we'll make it a hundred while we're about it--a hundred guineas would do the thing admirably--though to be sure much might be done with less."

"I have only eighteen pounds," said I, thrusting hand into pocket; "which will leave nine for you--"

"Hey!" he exclaimed, stopping in his sudden fashion. "What's this--what the devil--I say, curse and confound everything, man, what d'ye mean?"

"Being both solitary wanderers, we will share equally so far as we may--"

"No--not to be thought of--preposterous--"

"So I ask you to honour me by accepting these nine pounds--"

"I'll be shot if I do!"

"They may help you to--"

"To my drunken dissolution? Ridiculous! Nine pounds' worth would never do it, I'm so infernally healthy and strong! Nine accursed, miserable pounds--what use to a drinker such as I?"

"Many, Anthony, and I think I can guess one of the first--"

"And that?"

"To procure yourself a shave!"

"Egad!" cried he with a sudden, merry look, "I believe you're in the right of it! A stubbly chin makes a man feel such a pernicious, scoundrelly, hangdog walking misery."

"Precisely!" said I, holding out the nine pounds. "So take your money, Anthony."

"Positively no!" said he, scowling down at the coins. "I thieve occasionally, but I don't beg--yet, and be d.a.m.ned t' you!" And thrusting hands into pockets, he went on again. So I put up the money and we walked on, but in silence now, while the shadows deepened about us. And thus we went for a great while until with every stride this silence became painfully irksome--at least, to me. All at once his arm was about my shoulders, a long, nervous arm drawing me to him, then he had freed me and we stood facing each other in the gathering dusk.

"Perry!" said he, in strange, shaken voice. "Dear fellow, will you forgive a graceless dog? You meant kindly, but I couldn't--I should despise myself more than I do--so--Oh, curse and confound it--what about it?"

For answer I reached out and took his hand; so we stood for a long moment speaking never a word. And presently we went on down the darkling road together.

CHAPTER VI

DESCRIBES CERTAIN LIVELY HAPPENINGS AT THE "JOLLY WAGGONER" INN

We had gone thus no great distance when we heard a sound of hoofs and wheels and perceived an open travelling chaise coming up behind us.

The lane was narrow and rutted and thus the vehicle was progressing at an inconsiderable pace, and as it pa.s.sed us where we stood in the hedge, I saw it contained a man and a woman. This man was richly dressed, and handsome in a big, plethoric fashion, but beholding his face, the small eyes, heavy jowls and fleshy nose, I took an instant aversion to him.

"Did you notice that fellow?" I enquired, brushing the dust from me.

"Did you see--her?" exclaimed Anthony.

"A fleshly brute if ever there was one!" said I.

"Such glorious eyes and hair--a sweet angelic creature, Perry. Her eyes seemed so big and appealing. Oh, curse it, why must women have such eyes. d.a.m.n everything!"

"It will be a beautiful night!" said I, staring up at the purple vault where stars began to wink.

"She looked--miserable--almost like one afraid."

"I wonder where we shall sleep, Anthony?"

"Oh, anywhere, in some barn, under a hedge, in a rick--what matter?

Why should she look afraid, I wonder?"

I made no answer, for truth to tell my mind yearned and my body hungered for the sweet, cool luxury of lavender sheets; the thought of a draughty barn or comfortless ditch appalled me, but I held my peace, only I scanned the dim road before me with eager eyes for some sign of tavern or inn.

And presently from the loom of trees I espied a twinkling light that upon our nearer approach I saw proceeded from a wayside inn with a great trough of water before it and a signboard whereon, though evening was falling apace, I could make out the legend--

THE JOLLY WAGGONER

and above this the dim semblance of a man in gaiters and smock, bearing a whip in one hand while in the other he upheld a foaming beaker--but never in nature did ale or beer ever so foam, froth, bubble and seethe as did this painted waggoner's painted beer.

"What now?" enquired my companion, for I had halted. "What is it, Peregrine?"

"The beer!" said I.

"Where, man, where?"

"Yonder!" and I pointed to the sign. "Did ever eyes behold beer so preternaturally frothy?"

"Of course not, Perry my lad, because reality is never so perfect as the dream! The cove who painted that was d.a.m.nably dry, perishing of a n.o.ble thirst, not a doubt of it, and being a true artist he painted it all in--egad, there's thirst in every inch of that foam--it's a masterpiece!"

"It's a daub--and a bad one!" said I. "Indeed, on closer inspection the foam looks very like cheese!"