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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

"St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England"

A little after, I found
myself entertaining them with a song; and a little after--perhaps a
little in consequence--it occurred to me that I had had enough, and
would be very well inspired to take French leave. It was not
difficult to manage, for it was nobody's business to observe my
movements, and conviviality had banished suspicion.
I got easily forth of the chamber, which reverberated with the
voices of these merry and learned gentlemen, and breathed a long
breath. I had passed an agreeable afternoon and evening, and I had
apparently escaped scot free. Alas! when I looked into the
kitchen, there was my monkey, drunk as a lord, toppling on the edge
of the dresser, and performing on the flageolet to an audience of
the house lasses and some neighbouring ploughmen.
I routed him promptly from his perch, stuck his hat on, put his
instrument in his pocket, and set off with him for Edinburgh.
His limbs were of paper, his mind quite in abeyance; I must uphold
and guide him, prevent his frantic dives, and set him continually
on his legs again. At first he sang wildly, with occasional
outbursts of causeless laughter. Gradually an inarticulate
melancholy succeeded; he wept gently at times; would stop in the
middle of the road, say firmly 'No, no, no,' and then fall on his
back: or else address me solemnly as 'M'lord' and fall on his face
by way of variety.


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