Chapter 17 - Page 2

apartment in which she had
first seen the mistress of the establishment.

'If you'll wait here a minute,' said the man, 'I'll tell her
presently.' Having made this promise with much affability, he
retired and left Kate alone.

There was not much to amuse in the room; of which the most
attractive feature was, a half-length portrait in oil, of Mr
Mantalini, whom the artist had depicted scratching his head in an
easy manner, and thus displaying to advantage a diamond ring, the
gift of Madame Mantalini before her marriage. There was, however,
the sound of voices in conversation in the next room; and as the
conversation was loud and the partition thin, Kate could not help
discovering that they belonged to Mr and Mrs Mantalini.

'If you will be odiously, demnebly, outrIgeously jealous, my soul,'
said Mr Mantalini, 'you will be very miserable--horrid miserable--
demnition miserable.' And then, there was a sound as though Mr
Mantalini were sipping his coffee.

'I AM miserable,' returned Madame Mantalini, evidently pouting.

'Then you are an ungrateful, unworthy, demd unthankful little
fairy,' said Mr Mantalini.

'I am not,' returned Madame, with a sob.

'Do not put itself out of humour,' said Mr Mantalini, breaking an
egg. 'It is a pretty, bewitching little demd countenance, and it
should not be out of humour, for it spoils its loveliness, and makes
it cross and gloomy like a frightful, naughty, demd hobgoblin.'

'I am not to be brought round in that way, always,' rejoined Madame,
sulkily.

'It shall be brought round in any way it likes best, and not brought
round at all if it likes that better,' retorted Mr Mantalini, with
his egg-spoon in his mouth.

'It's very easy to talk,' said Mrs Mantalini.

'Not so easy when one is eating a demnition egg,' replied Mr
Mantalini; 'for the yolk runs down the waistcoat, and yolk of egg
does not match any waistcoat but a yellow waistcoat, demmit.'

'You were flirting with her during the whole night,' said Madame
Mantalini, apparently desirous to lead the conversation back to the
point from which it had strayed.

'No, no, my life.'

'You were,' said Madame; 'I had my eye upon you all the time.'

'Bless the little winking twinkling eye; was it on me all the time!'
cried Mantalini, in a sort of lazy rapture. 'Oh, demmit!'

'And I say once more,' resumed Madame, 'that you ought not to waltz
with anybody but your own wife; and I will not bear it, Mantalini,
if I take poison first.'

'She will not take poison and have horrid pains, will she?' said
Mantalini; who, by the altered sound of his voice, seemed to have
moved his chair, and taken up his position nearer to his wife. 'She
will