On the towpath every one was shouting and shaking hands with indiscriminate bonhomie,—this was one of those occasions upon which even the ranks of Tuscany could scarce forbear to cheer,—and everybody, with one exception, seemed to be ringing a bell or blowing a trumpet. The exception was supplied by a trio of young gentlemen, two of whom held an enormous Chinese gong suspended between them, while a third smote the same unceasingly with a mallet, and cried aloud the name of Marrable. It must be recorded here, to his honour, that the smiter bore upon his forehead an enormous and highly coloured bruise, suggestive of sudden contact with, say, a bedroom-door.
On the opposite bank of the river, a stout, middle-aged, and apparently demented Clerk in Holy Orders was dancing the Cachuca.
BOOK TWO
FORTITER IN RE
CHAPTER VI
KNIGHT-ERRANTRY À LA MODE