He hurriedly advanced to seize the old man’s hand in his, when Mr Pecksniff interposed himself between them.
‘No, young man!’ said Mr Pecksniff, striking himself upon the breast, and stretching out his other arm towards his guest as if it were a wing to shelter him. ‘No, sir. None of that. Strike here, sir, here! Launch your arrows at me, sir, if you’ll have the goodness; not at Him!’
‘Grandfather!’ cried Martin. ‘Hear me! I implore you, let me speak!’
‘Would you, sir? Would you?’ said Mr Pecksniff, dodging about, so as to keep himself always between them. ‘Is it not enough, sir, that you come into my house like a thief in the night, or I should rather say, for we can never be too particular on the subject of Truth, like a thief in the day-time; bringing your dissolute companions with you, to plant themselves with their backs against the insides of parlour doors, and prevent the entrance or issuing forth of any of my household’—Mark had taken up this position, and held it quite unmoved—‘but would you also strike at venerable Virtue? Would you? Know that it is not defenceless. I will be its shield, young man. Assail me. Come on, sir. Fire away!’
‘Pecksniff,’ said the old man, in a feeble voice. ‘Calm yourself. Be quiet.’
‘I can’t be calm,’ cried Mr Pecksniff, ‘and I won’t be quiet. My benefactor and my friend! Shall even my house be no refuge for your hoary pillow!’
‘Stand aside!’ said the old man, stretching out his hand; ‘and let me see what it is I used to love so dearly.’
‘It is right that you should see it, my friend,’ said Mr Pecksniff. ‘It is well that you should see it, my noble sir. It is desirable that you should contemplate it in its true proportions. Behold it! There it is, sir. There it is!’
