Nutts. Not a bit, if you come to reason on it; and yet I can’t get it out o’ my head. Whenever I hear of Christina, I do think of that beautiful, soft, velvet-looking beast, so very handsome and so very treacherous. Then there’s Mr Louis Philippe, he’s like——
Slowgoe. There now! I won’t stop! I know what you’re arter. In a minute you’ll be putting all the Continental crowned heads into cages and ticketing ’em.
Nutts. Nothin’ o’ the sort. Though, when you speak of cages, there is certainly some o’ the Continentals, as you call ’em, safest seen on this side o’ the bars.
Peabody. Talking of the Virgin, here is something about her from the Constitutionnel (reads): “It is said that the Virgin of Atocha, on the day of the marriage, was covered with a magnificent chemisette, a present of Ferdinand VII. on his return in 1814, and a petticoat, admirably embroidered, by Don Antonio, the uncle of Ferdinand.”
Nutts. “Admirably embroidered!” Now isn’t it a pity, Mr Slowgoe, when you see fortin’ taking people out of their proper spear, making ’em kings, when they should ha’ been men-milliners? Carrying swords and sceptres, and golden—what you call them round things, eh, Mr Peabody?—you’ve been a schoolmaster.
Peabody. The ball—the ball of sovereignty. When a king holds that ball in his hand, at his coronation, the ball is typical of the whole earth; the world is in his hand.
Nutts. And I’m blessed if some on ’em don’t play worst tricks with it than an ape plays with a cocoa-nut! But I was going to say, isn’t it a thing to cry over, to think that fellows like Ferdinand——
Slowgoe. I must leave the shop. I do not agree with all the principles of that revere—I mean of that monarch; nevertheless, he once wore a crown upon his head, and I must respect him.
Nutts. Well, then, I suppose if all the monkeys in the world was to go mad, and crown an ourangoutang for their king—I suppose you’d respect him?
Slowgoe. I can’t answer for myself; but I think I should.