He bleated in my
embrace; so bleats the sheep in the arms of the butcher. The whole
thing, on looking back, appears incomparably reckless and absurd; I
no better than a madman for offering to advance on Dudgeon, and he
no better than a fool for not shooting me while I was about it.
But all's well that ends well; or, as the people in these days kept
singing and whistling on the streets:-
'There's a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft
And looks out for the life of poor Jack.'
'There!' said I, releasing him a little, but still keeping my hands
on his shoulders, 'je vous ai bel et bien embrasse--and, as you
would say, there is another French word.' With his wig over one
eye, he looked incredibly rueful and put out. 'Cheer up, Dudgeon;
the ordeal is over, you shall be embraced no more. But do, first
of all, for God's-sake, put away your pistol; you handle it as if
you were a cockatrice; some time or other, depend upon it, it will
certainly go off. Here is your hat. No, let me put it on square,
and the wig before it. Never suffer any stress of circumstances to
come between you and the duty you owe to yourself. If you have
nobody else to dress for, dress for God!
'Put your wig straight
On your bald pate,
Keep your chin scraped,
And your figure draped.
Can you match me that? The whole duty of man in a quatrain! And
remark, I do not set up to be a professional bard; these are the
outpourings of a dilettante.
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