Little Dorrit - Page 400/462

These equipages adorned the yard of the hotel at Martigny, on the return

of the family from their mountain excursion. Other vehicles were there,

much company being on the road, from the patched Italian Vettura--like

the body of a swing from an English fair put upon a wooden tray on

wheels, and having another wooden tray without wheels put atop of it--to

the trim English carriage. But there was another adornment of the

hotel which Mr Dorrit had not bargained for. Two strange travellers

embellished one of his rooms.

The Innkeeper, hat in hand in the yard, swore to the courier that he was

blighted, that he was desolated, that he was profoundly afflicted, that

he was the most miserable and unfortunate of beasts, that he had the

head of a wooden pig. He ought never to have made the concession, he

said, but the very genteel lady had so passionately prayed him for the

accommodation of that room to dine in, only for a little half-hour, that

he had been vanquished. The little half-hour was expired, the lady and

gentleman were taking their little dessert and half-cup of coffee, the

note was paid, the horses were ordered, they would depart immediately;

but, owing to an unhappy destiny and the curse of Heaven, they were not

yet gone. Nothing could exceed Mr Dorrit's indignation, as he turned at the foot

of the staircase on hearing these apologies. He felt that the family

dignity was struck at by an assassin's hand. He had a sense of his

dignity, which was of the most exquisite nature. He could detect a

design upon it when nobody else had any perception of the fact. His

life was made an agony by the number of fine scalpels that he felt to be

incessantly engaged in dissecting his dignity.

'Is it possible, sir,' said Mr Dorrit, reddening excessively, 'that you

have--ha--had the audacity to place one of my rooms at the disposition

of any other person?'

Thousands of pardons! It was the host's profound misfortune to have been

overcome by that too genteel lady. He besought Monseigneur not to enrage

himself. He threw himself on Monseigneur for clemency. If Monseigneur

would have the distinguished goodness to occupy the other salon

especially reserved for him, for but five minutes, all would go well.

'No, sir,' said Mr Dorrit. 'I will not occupy any salon. I will leave

your house without eating or drinking, or setting foot in it.

How do you dare to act like this? Who am I that you--ha--separate me

from other gentlemen?' Alas! The host called all the universe to witness that Monseigneur was

the most amiable of the whole body of nobility, the most important,

the most estimable, the most honoured. If he separated Monseigneur from

others, it was only because he was more distinguished, more cherished,

more generous, more renowned.