Vanity Fair - Page 571/573

Emmy gave a little start, but said nothing.

"Hullo!" Georgy continued, "there's Francis coming out with the

portmanteaus, and Kunz, the one-eyed postilion, coming down the market

with three schimmels. Look at his boots and yellow jacket--ain't he a

rum one? Why--they're putting the horses to Dob's carriage. Is he going

anywhere?"

"Yes," said Emmy, "he is going on a journey."

"Going on a journey; and when is he coming back?"

"He is--not coming back," answered Emmy.

"Not coming back!" cried out Georgy, jumping up. "Stay here, sir,"

roared out Jos. "Stay, Georgy," said his mother with a very sad face.

The boy stopped, kicked about the room, jumped up and down from the

window-seat with his knees, and showed every symptom of uneasiness and

curiosity.

The horses were put to. The baggage was strapped on. Francis came out

with his master's sword, cane, and umbrella tied up together, and laid

them in the well, and his desk and old tin cocked-hat case, which he

placed under the seat. Francis brought out the stained old blue cloak

lined with red camlet, which had wrapped the owner up any time these

fifteen years, and had manchen Sturm erlebt, as a favourite song of

those days said. It had been new for the campaign of Waterloo and had

covered George and William after the night of Quatre Bras.

Old Burcke, the landlord of the lodgings, came out, then Francis, with

more packages--final packages--then Major William--Burcke wanted to

kiss him. The Major was adored by all people with whom he had to do.

It was with difficulty he could escape from this demonstration of

attachment.

"By Jove, I will go!" screamed out George. "Give him this," said

Becky, quite interested, and put a paper into the boy's hand. He had

rushed down the stairs and flung across the street in a minute--the

yellow postilion was cracking his whip gently.

William had got into the carriage, released from the embraces of his

landlord. George bounded in afterwards, and flung his arms round the

Major's neck (as they saw from the window), and began asking him

multiplied questions. Then he felt in his waistcoat pocket and gave

him a note. William seized at it rather eagerly, he opened it

trembling, but instantly his countenance changed, and he tore the paper

in two and dropped it out of the carriage. He kissed Georgy on the

head, and the boy got out, doubling his fists into his eyes, and with

the aid of Francis. He lingered with his hand on the panel. Fort,

Schwager! The yellow postilion cracked his whip prodigiously, up

sprang Francis to the box, away went the schimmels, and Dobbin with his

head on his breast. He never looked up as they passed under Amelia's

window, and Georgy, left alone in the street, burst out crying in the

face of all the crowd.