[Original]
The ice once broken, the dark gentleman became very communicative.
“If you want good fare, prime whisky, and a sound snooze, the Cock’s your place, sir. The landlady’s a trump, parlour snug, and not a flea if you searched the beds for a fortnight. Come, my love,” and he addressed his fair companion, who frowned an angry answer to this term of endearment,—“you and I are for the same crib, and we’ll give this gentleman our company.”
The stroller spoke with the volubility of an auctioneer, and thus continued:—
“This lady, sir, is my sister,—Miss Julia Montague. We are both professional,—known extensively in the dramatic world,—I, in the comic line—and Julia, in the musical. Bad spec at Granard—manager an ass,—played tragedy to please his swivel-eyed wife,—she Desdemona!—she be forked,—house didn’t draw money to pay candles,—manager, calls himself Mortimer, right name Malowney, bolted with any blunt there was—left the company without a tanner, and obliged July and myself to travel here tandem,—one leg before the other. Better luck again,—we’ll both be on the boards of Crow-street before Christmas—eh, July?”
When the Jew had named the connexion between himself and the wandering melodist, Mark Antony’s incredulous stare was returned by a look of contempt directed by the lady at her companion, which disclaimed relationship altogether; and a trifling incident ended the attempt at imposition.
A knot of the handkerchief which secured the joint-stock property of the comedian and the cantatrice had slipped unperceived, and when the accident was discovered, portions of the wardrobe were seen upon the road a hundred yards in the rear. Mr. Montague started off to recover the missing valuables, and Julia and Mark Antony were thus for a brief space left together. The opportunity was not neglected. The girl, after a searching glance behind, suddenly addressed the fosterer.
“Stranger, beware!—you know not the scoundrel who has been speaking to you. He’s all a lie,—a Jew, a sleight-of-hand man, a pickpocket, and a pugilist. Avoid him, or he’ll cheat you first, and bully you afterwards.” (A smile from Mark Antony intimated that on the latter score he was incredulous altogether.) “He followed me without my knowledge, and joined me on the road. Will you protect me to the next town? I would not trust myself another hour in that villain’s company. But soft—he comes,”—and, with ready tact, she changed the conversation to some common-place occurrence as the Jew hurried up and joined them. A few minutes more brought them to the Cock and Punch-bowl, which proved to be a low and straggling edifice situated at the junction of four roads.