The Youth of Jefferson Part 11

"No trouble in the world--I shall leave you in a street or two. Come!"

And he took the satchel, and pa.s.sing his cane through the handles, gracefully deposited it behind his shoulders, as a beggar does his bundle.

The girl laughed heartily; and this seemed to afford the melancholy lover much satisfaction.

"Do they teach laughing at the Reverend Mrs. White's?" he asked.

"Laughing, sir?"

"Yes; I thought you had been taking lessons."

"Oh, sir!"

"Come! no fine-lady airs. I never compliment--we are too intimate."

And Jacques shifted his packet to the other shoulder.

"Just go to the ball and laugh in that way," he said, "and you'll slay all the hearts in a circle of ten feet."

The girl repeated the fatal ceremony with more energy than ever. The street echoed with it.

"I'm going to the ball, sir," she said; "Bathurst--you know Bathurst--he says he will go with me."

"Little innocent!"

"Sir?"

"I was reflecting, my dear little friend," said the melancholy Jacques, "upon the superiority of your s.e.x before they reach the age of womanhood."

"How, sir?"

"Why, thus. Suppose I had addressed that question to a fine lady--'Are you going to the ball, madam?'--what would her reply have been?"

"I don't know," laughed the girl, pushing back a stray lock from her forehead.

"I'll tell you," continued Jacques. "With a negligent and careless air she would have said, 'Really, sir--I do not know--I have scarcely made up my mind--if I decide to go--I shall not go, however, I think--if I go, it will be with Mr. Blank--I have half promised him;' and so forth. How wearisome! You, on the contrary, my little friend, clap your hands and cry, 'Oh! I am going! Bathurst says he'll go with me!'

Bathurst is a good boy; isn't he your sweetheart?"

The girl blushed and laughed.

"No, indeed, sir!" she said.

"That is well; choose some elderly admirer, my dear child--like myself."

The laughter was louder than ever.

"It wouldn't do for you to have two," she said with a merry glance.

Jacques recoiled.

"Every body knows it!" he murmured ruefully.

"They do so," replied the merry girl, who caught these half-uttered words; "but she's a very sweet lady."

Jacques sighed.

"Are you not tired, sir?" asked the girl.

"No, no! my dear child; but I believe I must return your little bulrush receptacle, for yonder is my journey's end. Look, Sir Asinus beholds us--see! there at the window!"

In fact, Sir Asinus was at his open window, inhaling the bright May morning joyously.

"Sir Asinus? Who is he?" asked the girl, with a puzzled look.

"The great rebel, who tried to a.s.sa.s.sinate Doctor Small and the Governer. Have you not heard of it?"

"Oh no, indeed, sir! Did he?"

"Well, principles are men, they say; and that makes what I said quite true. Look at him: don't he resemble a murderer?"

"I don't know, sir; I hardly know what one looks like."

"Look at his red hair."

"It _is_ red."

"And his sharp features."

"Yes, sir."

"He has a real a.s.sa.s.sin's look, my dear little friend; but he is a great thinker. That is the sort of beau I recommend you to get instead of Bathurst."

The girl laughed.

"But Bathurst is a great deal handsomer," she said; "then he promised to take me to the ball----"

"While Sir Asinus has not promised."

"Oh, _he_ wouldn't think of _me_. I am very much obliged to you for carrying my satchel, sir," added the young girl, swinging it again on her arm.

"Not at all. See how Sir Asinus is staring at you--a very ill-bred fellow!"

The young girl raised her head, for they were now under the window at which sat Sir Asinus; and she found the eyes of that gentleman fixed upon her in truth with great pleasure and admiration.

She laughed and blushed, looking down again.

"Good-by, my dear young lady," said the melancholy Jacques with a paternal air; "continue on your way, and present my most respectful regards to Mrs. White and every body. Learn your lessons, jump the rope, and never conjugate the verb _amo_, _amas_; get a poodle dog, and hideous china, and prepare yourself for the n.o.ble state of elderly maidenhood: so shall you pa.s.s serenely through this vale of tears, and be for ever great, glorious, and happy."

With which friendly counsel the melancholy Jacques sighed again--possibly from the thought that had he followed the last piece of advice, his mind had not been troubled--and so bade his young friend farewell, and mounted the staircase leading to the chamber of his friend.