A lady very like her subsequently kept a milliner's shop in the Rue du Helder at Paris, where she lived with great credit and enjoyed the patronage of my Lord Steyne.This person always spoke of England as of the most treacherous country in the world, and stated to her young pupils that she had been affreusement vole by natives of that island.It was no doubt compassion for her misfortunes which induced the Marquis of Steyne to be so very kind to Madame de Saint-Amaranthe.May she flourish as she deserves--she appears no more in our quarter of Vanity Fair.
Hearing a buzz and a stir below, and indignant at the impudence of those servants who would not answer her summons, Mrs.Crawley flung her morning robe round her and descended majestically to the drawing-room, whence the noise proceeded.
The cook was there with blackened face, seated on the beautiful chintz sofa by the side of Mrs.Raggles, to whom she was administering Maraschino.The page with the sugar-loaf buttons, who carried about Becky's pink notes, and jumped about her little carriage with such alacrity, was now engaged putting his fingers into a cream dish; the footman was talking to Raggles, who had a face full of perplexity and woe--and yet, though the door was open, and Becky had been screaming a half-dozen of times a few feet off, not one of her attendants had obeyed her call."Have a little drop, do'ee now, Mrs.Raggles," the cook was saying as Becky entered, the white cashmere dressing-gown flouncing around her.
"Simpson! Trotter!" the mistress of the house cried in great wrath."How dare you stay here when you heard me call? How dare you sit down in my presence? Where's my maid?" The page withdrew his fingers from his mouth with a momentary terror, but the cook took off a glass of Maraschino, of which Mrs.Raggles had had enough, staring at Becky over the little gilt glass as she drained its contents.The liquor appeared to give the odious rebel courage.
"YOUR sofy, indeed!" Mrs.Cook said."I'm a settin' on Mrs.Raggles's sofy.Don't you stir, Mrs.Raggles, Mum.
I'm a settin' on Mr.and Mrs.Raggles's sofy, which they bought with honest money, and very dear it cost 'em, too.And I'm thinkin' if I set here until I'm paid my wages, I shall set a precious long time, Mrs.Raggles;and set I will, too--ha! ha!" and with this she filled herself another glass of the liquor and drank it with a more hideously satirical air.
"Trotter! Simpson! turn that drunken wretch out,"screamed Mrs.Crawley.
"I shawn't," said Trotter the footman; "turn out yourself.Pay our selleries, and turn me out too.WE'LLgo fast enough."
"Are you all here to insult me?" cried Becky in a fury;"when Colonel Crawley comes home I'll--"
At this the servants burst into a horse haw-haw, in which, however, Raggles, who still kept a most melancholy countenance, did not join."He ain't a coming back,"Mr.Trotter resumed."He sent for his things, and Iwouldn't let 'em go, although Mr.Raggles would; and Idon't b'lieve he's no more a Colonel than I am.He's hoff, and I suppose you're a goin' after him.You're no better than swindlers, both on you.Don't be a bullyin'
ME.I won't stand it.Pay us our selleries, I say.Pay us our selleries." It was evident, from Mr.Trotter's flushed countenance and defective intonation, that he, too, had had recourse to vinous stimulus.
"Mr.Raggles," said Becky in a passion of vexation, "you will not surely let me be insulted by that drunken man?" "Hold your noise, Trotter; do now," said Simpson the page.He was affected by his mistress's deplorable situation, and succeeded in preventing an outrageous denial of the epithet "drunken" on the footman's part.
"Oh, M'am," said Raggles, "I never thought to live to see this year day: I've known the Crawley family ever since I was born.I lived butler with Miss Crawley for thirty years; and I little thought one of that family was a goin' to ruing me--yes, ruing me"--said the poor fellow with tears in his eyes."Har you a goin' to pay me? You've lived in this 'ouse four year.You've 'ad my substance:
my plate and linning.You ho me a milk and butter bill of two 'undred pound, you must 'ave noo laid heggs for your homlets, and cream for your spanil dog.""She didn't care what her own flesh and blood had,"interposed the cook."Many's the time, he'd have starved but for me.""He's a charaty-boy now, Cooky," said Mr.Trotter, with a drunken "ha! ha!"--and honest Raggles continued, in a lamentable tone, an enumeration of his griefs.All he said was true.Becky and her husband had ruined him.
He had bills coming due next week and no means to meet them.He would be sold up and turned out of his shop and his house, because he had trusted to the Crawley family.His tears and lamentations made Becky more peevish than ever.
"You all seem to be against me," she said bitterly.
"What do you want? I can't pay you on Sunday.Come back to-morrow and I'll pay you everything.I thought Colonel Crawley had settled with you.He will to-morrow.
I declare to you upon my honour that he left home this morning with fifteen hundred pounds in his pocket-book.
He has left me nothing.Apply to him.Give me a bonnet and shawl and let me go out and find him.There was a difference between us this morning.You all seem to know it.I promise you upon my word that you shall all be paid.He has got a good appointment.Let me go out and find him.''
This audacious statement caused Raggles and the other personages present to look at one another with a wild surprise, and with it Rebecca left them.She went upstairs and dressed herself this time without the aid of her French maid.She went into Rawdon's room, and there saw that a trunk and bag were packed ready for removal, with a pencil direction that they should be given when called for; then she went into the Frenchwoman's garret;everything was clean, and all the drawers emptied there.
She bethought herself of the trinkets which had been left on the ground and felt certain that the woman had fled.