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Marryat, Frederick, 1792-1848

"Or, The Naval Officer"


When the play was over, I waited with an impatience like that of a
spirited hunter who hears the hounds. At last, the infernal squalling
of the vocalists ceased, but not before I had devoutly wished that
all the wax candles in the house were down their throats and burning
there. I saw one of the gentlemen in the box placing the shawl over
her shoulders, with the most careful attention, while the bystanders
seemed ready to tear him in pieces, from envy. I hurried to the door,
and saw her handed into her carriage, which drove off at a great pace.
I ran after it, jumped up behind, and took my station by the side of
the footman.
"_Descendez donc, Monsieur_," said the man.
"I'll be d----d if I do," said I.
"_Comment donc_?" said the man.
"_Tais-toi bete_" said I, "_ou je te brulerai la cervelle_."
"_Vous f----e_," said the man, who behaved very well, and instantly
began to remove me, _vi et armis_; but I planted a stomacher in his
fifth button, which I knew would put him _hors de combat_ for a few
minutes, and by that time, at the rate the carriage was driving, my
purpose would have been answered. The fellow lost his breath--could
not hold on or speak--so tumbled off and lay in the middle of the
road.
As he fell on dry ground and was not an English sailor, I did not jump
after him, but left him to his own ease, and we saw no more of him,
for we were going ten knots, while he lay becalmed without a breath of
wind.


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