O'Connor had scarcely been joined by the priest, when Larry Toole, who jogged quietly on, pipe in mouth, behind his master, was accosted2 by his reverence's servant, a stout3, clean-limbed fellow, arrayed in blue frieze4, who rode a large, ill-made horse, and bumped listlessly along at that easy swinging jog at which our southern farmers are wont5 to ride. The fellow had a shrewd eye, and a pleasant countenance6 withal to look upon, and might be in years some five or six and thirty.
"God save you, neighbour," said he.
"A plisint evenin' for a quiet bit iv a smoke," rejoined the stranger.
"None better," rejoined Larry, scanning the stranger's proportions, to see whether, in his own phrase, "he liked his cut." The scrutiny8 evidently resulted favourably9, for Larry removed his pipe, and handing it to his new acquaintance, observed courteously10, "Maybe you'd take a draw, neighbour."
"I thank you kindly," said the stranger, as he transferred the utensil11 from Larry's mouth to his own. "It's turning cowld, I think. I wish to the Lord we had a dhrop iv something to warm us," observed he, speaking out of the unoccupied corner of his mouth.
"We'll be in Chapelizod, plase God," said Larry Toole, "in half an hour, an' if ould Tim Delany isn't gone undher the daisies, maybe we won't have a taste iv his best."
"Are you follyin' that gintleman?" inquired the stranger, with his pipe indicating O'Connor, "that gintleman that the masther is talking to?"
"I am so," rejoined Larry promptly13, "an' a good gintleman he is; an' that's your masther there. What sort is he?"
"Oh, good enough, as masthers goes—no way surprisin' one way or th' other."
"Where are you goin' to?" pursued Larry.
"I never axed, bedad," rejoined the man, "only to folly12 on, wherever he goes—an' divil a hair I care where that is. What way are you two goin'?"
"To Dublin, to be sure," rejoined Larry. "I wisht we wor there now. What the divil makes him ride so unaiqual—sometimes cantherin', and other times mostly walkin'—it's mighty14 nansinsical, so it is."
"By gorra, I don't know, anless fancy alone," rejoined the stranger.
"Here's your pipe," continued he, after some pause, "an' I thank you kindly, misther—misther—how's this they call you?"
"Misther Larry Toole is the name I was christened by," rejoined the gentleman so interrogated15.
"An' a rale illegant name it is," replied the stranger. "The Tooles is a royal family, an' may the Lord restore them to their rights."
"My name's Ned Mollowney," continued he, anticipating Larry's interrogatory, "from the town of Ballydun, the plisintest spot in the beautiful county iv Tipperary. There isn't it's aquil out for fine men and purty girls." Larry sighed.
The conversation then took that romantic turn which best suited the melancholy17 chivalry18 of Larry's mind, after which the current of their mutual19 discoursing20, by the attraction of irresistible21 association, led them, as they approached the little village, once more into suggestive commentaries upon the bitter cold, and sundry22 pleasant speculations23 respecting the creature comforts which awaited them under Tim Delany's genial24 roof-tree.
"The holy saints be praised," said Ned Mollowney, "we're in the village at last. The tellin' iv stories is the dhryest work that ever a boy tuck in hand. My mouth is like a cindher all as one."
"Tim Delany's is the second house beyant that wind in the street," said Larry, pointing down the road as they advanced. "We'll jist get down for a minute or two, an' have somethin' warrum by the fire; we'll overtake the gintlemen asy enough."
"I'm agreeable, Mr. Toole," said the accommodating Ned Mollowney. "Let the gintlemen take care iv themselves. They're come to an age when they ought to know what they're about."
"This is it," said Larry, checking his horse before a low thatched house, from whose doorway25 the cheerful light was gleaming upon the bushes opposite.
The two worthies26 dismounted, and entered the humble27 place of entertainment. Tim Delany's company was singularly fascinating, and his liquor was, if possible, more so—besides, the evening was chill, and his hearth28 blazed with a fire, the very sight of which made the blood circulate freely, and the finger-tops grow warm. Larry Toole was prepossessed in favour of Ned Mollowney, and Ned Mollowney had fallen in love with Larry Toole, so that it is hardly to be wondered at that the two gentlemen yielded to the combined seduction of their situation, and seated themselves snugly29 by the fire, each with his due allowance of stimulating30 liquor, and with a very vague and uncertain kind of belief in the likelihood of their following their masters respectively until they had made themselves particularly comfortable. It was not until after nearly two hours of blissful communion with his delectable31 companion, that Larry Toole suddenly bethought him of the fact that he had allowed his master, at the lowest calculation, time enough to have ridden to and from the "Cock and Anchor" at least half a dozen times. He, therefore, hurriedly bade good-night, with many a fond vow32 of eternal friendship for the two companions of his princely revelry, mounted his horse with some little difficulty, and becoming every moment more and more confused, and less and less perpendicular33, found himself at length—with an indistinct remembrance of having had several hundred falls upon every possible part of his body, and upon every possible geological substance, from soft alluvial34 mud up to plain lime-stone, during the course of his progress—within the brick precincts of the city. The horse, with an instinctive35 contempt for Mr. Toole's judgment36, wholly disregarded that gentleman's vehement37 appeals to the bridle38, and quietly pursued his well-known way to the hostelry of the "Cock and Anchor."
Our honest friend had hardly dismounted, which he did with one eye closed, and a hiccough, and a happy smile which mournfully contrasted with his filthy39 and battered40 condition, when he at once became absolutely insensible, from which condition he did not recover till next morning, when he found himself partially41 in bed, quite undressed, with the exception of his breeches, boots, and spurs, which he had forgotten to remove, and which latter, along with his feet, he had deposited upon the pillow, allowing his head to slope gently downward towards the foot of the bed.
As soon as Mr. Toole had ascertained42 where he was, and begun to recollect43 how he came there, he removed his legs from the pillow, and softly slid upon the floor. His first solicitude44 was for his clothes, the spattered and villainous condition of which appalled45 him; his next was to endeavour to remember whether or not his master had witnessed his weakness. Absorbed in this severe effort of memory, he sat upon the bedside, gazing upon the floor, and scratching his head, when the door opened, and his friend the groom46 entered the chamber47.
"I say, old gentleman, you've been having a little bit of a spree," observed he, gazing pleasantly upon the disconsolate48 figure of the little man, who sat in his shirt and jack-boots, staring at him with a woe-begone and bewildered air. "Why, you had a bushel of mud about your body when you came in, and no hat at all. Well, you had a pleasant night of it—there's no denying that."
"No hat;" said Larry desolately49. "It isn't possible I dropped my hat off my head unknownest. Bloody50 wars, my hat! is it gone in airnest?"
"Yes, young gentleman, you came here bareheaded. The hat is gone, and that's a fact," replied the groom.
"I thought my coat was bad enough; but—oh! blur-anagers, my hat!" ejaculated Larry with abandonment. "Bad luck go with the liquor—tare-an-ouns, my hat!"
"There's a shoe off the horse," observed the groom; "and the seat is gone out of your breeches as clean as if it never was in it. Well, but you had a pleasant evening of it—you had."
"An' my breeches desthroyed—ruined beyant cure! See, Tom Berry, take a blundherbuz, will you, and put me out of pain at wonst. My breeches! Oh, divil go with the liquor! Holy Moses, is it possible?—my breeches!"
In an agony of contrition51 and desperate remorse52, Larry Toole clasped his hands over his eyes and remained for some minutes silent; at length he said—
"An' what did the masther say? Don't be keeping me in pain—out with it at wonst."
"What master?" inquired the groom.
"What masther?" echoed Mr. Toole—"why Mr. O'Connor, to be sure."
"I'm sure I can't say," replied the man; "I have not seen him this month."
"Wasn't he here before me last night?" inquired the little man.
"No, nor after neither," replied his visitor.
"Do you mane to tell me that he's not in the house at all?" interrogated Mr. Toole.
"Yes," replied he, "Mr. O'Connor is not in the house; the horse did not cross the yard this month. Will that do you?"
"Be the hoky," said Larry, "that's exthramely quare. But are you raly sure and quite sartin?"
"Yes, I tell you yes," replied he.
"Well, well," said Mr. Toole, "but that puts me to the divil's rounds to undherstand it—not come at all. What in the world's gone with him—not come—where else could he go to? Begorra, the whole iv the occurrences iv last night is a blaggard mysthery. What the divil's gone with him—where is he at all?—why couldn't he wait a bit for me an' I'd iv tuck the best care iv him? but gintlemen is always anruly. What the divil's keepin' him? I wouldn't be surprised if he made a baste53 iv himself in some public-house last night. A man ought never to take a dhrop more than jist what makes him plisant—bad luck to it. Lend me a breeches, an' I'll pray for you all the rest of my days. I must go out at wonst an' look for him; maybe he's at Mr. Audley's lodgings—ay, sure enough, it's there he is. Bad luck to the liquor. Why the divil did I let him go alone? Oh! sweet bad luck to it," he continued in fierce anguish54, as he held up the muddy wreck55 of his favourite coat before his aching eyes—"my elegant coat—bad luck to it again—an' my beautiful hat—once more bad luck to it; an' my breeches—oh! it's fairly past bearin'—my elegant breeches! Bad luck to it for a threacherous drop—an' the masther lost, and no one knows what's done with him. Up with that poker56, I tell you, and blow my brains out at once; there's nothing before me in this life but the divil's own delight—finish me, I tell you, and let me rest in the shade. I'll never hould up my head again, there's no use in purtendin'. Oh! bad luck to the dhrink!"
In this distracted frame of mind did Larry continue for nearly an hour, after which, with the aid of some contributions from the wardrobe of honest Tom Berry, he clothed himself, and went forth57 in quest of his master.
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1
squires
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| n.地主，乡绅( squire的名词复数 ) | |
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accosted
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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4
frieze
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| n.(墙上的)横饰带，雕带 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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7
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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8
scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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favourably
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| adv. 善意地，赞成地 =favorably | |
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10
courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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11
utensil
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| n.器皿，用具 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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14
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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15
interrogated
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| v.询问( interrogate的过去式和过去分词 )；审问；（在计算机或其他机器上）查询 | |
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16
devoutly
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| adv.虔诚地，虔敬地，衷心地 | |
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17
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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18
chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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19
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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20
discoursing
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| 演说（discourse的现在分词形式） | |
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21
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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22
sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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23
speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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24
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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25
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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worthies
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| 应得某事物( worthy的名词复数 )； 值得做某事； 可尊敬的； 有（某人或事物）的典型特征 | |
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27
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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28
hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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29
snugly
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| adv.紧贴地；贴身地；暖和舒适地；安适地 | |
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30
stimulating
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| adj.有启发性的，能激发人思考的 | |
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31
delectable
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| adj.使人愉快的；美味的 | |
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32
vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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33
perpendicular
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| adj.垂直的，直立的；n.垂直线，垂直的位置 | |
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alluvial
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| adj.冲积的；淤积的 | |
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35
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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37
vehement
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| adj.感情强烈的；热烈的；(人)有强烈感情的 | |
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38
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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40
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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41
partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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42
ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43
recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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44
solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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45
appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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46
groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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47
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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48
disconsolate
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| adj.忧郁的，不快的 | |
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49
desolately
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| 荒凉地，寂寞地 | |
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50
bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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51
contrition
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| n.悔罪，痛悔 | |
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52
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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53
baste
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| v.殴打，公开责骂 | |
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54
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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55
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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56
poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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57
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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