Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

Of the Great Bespeak for Miss Snevellicci, and the first Appearance
of Nicholas upon any Stage

Nicholas was up betimes in the morning; but he had scarcely begun to
dress, notwithstanding, when he heard footsteps ascending the
stairs, and was presently saluted by the voices of Mr Folair the
pantomimist, and Mr Lenville, the tragedian.

'House, house, house!' cried Mr Folair.

'What, ho! within there" said Mr Lenville, in a deep voice.

'Confound these fellows!' thought Nicholas; 'they have come to
breakfast, I suppose. I'll open the door directly, if you'll wait
an instant.'

The gentlemen entreated him not to hurry himself; and, to beguile
the interval, had a fencing bout with their walking-sticks on the
very small landing-place: to the unspeakable discomposure of all the
other lodgers downstairs.

'Here, come in,' said Nicholas, when he had completed his toilet.
'In the name of all that's horrible, don't make that noise outside.'

'An uncommon snug little box this,' said Mr Lenville, stepping into
the front room, and taking his hat off, before he could get in at
all. 'Pernicious snug.'

'For a man at all particular in such matters, it might be a trifle
too snug,' said Nicholas; 'for, although it is, undoubtedly, a great
convenience to be able to reach anything you want from the ceiling
or the floor, or either side of the room, without having to move
from your chair, still these advantages can only be had in an
apartment of the most limited size.'

'It isn't a bit too confined for a single man,' returned Mr
Lenville. 'That reminds me,--my wife, Mr Johnson,--I hope she'll
have some good part in this piece of yours?'

'I glanced at the French copy last night,' said Nicholas. 'It looks
very good, I think.'

'What do you mean to do for me, old fellow?' asked Mr Lenville,
poking the struggling fire with his walking-stick, and afterwards
wiping it on the skirt of his coat. 'Anything in the gruff and
grumble way?'

'You turn your wife and child out of doors,' said Nicholas; 'and, in
a fit of rage and jealousy, stab your eldest son in the library.'

'Do I though!' exclaimed Mr Lenville. 'That's very good business.'

'After which,' said Nicholas, 'you are troubled with remorse till
the last act, and then you make up your mind to destroy yourself.
But, just as you are raising the pistol to your head, a clock
strikes--ten.'

'I see,' cried Mr Lenville. 'Very good.'

'You pause,' said Nicholas; 'you recollect to have heard a clock
strike ten in your infancy. The pistol falls from your hand--you
are overcome--you burst into tears, and become a virtuous and
exemplary character for ever afterwards.'