Ярмарка тщеславия / Vanity Fair - стр. 18

While George Osborne’s good feelings, and his good friend and genius, Dobbin, were carrying back the truant to Amelia’s feet, George’s parent and sisters were arranging the splendid match for him, which they never dreamed he would resist: Miss Schwarz and her great fortune. Old Osborne thought she would be a great match, too, for his son. He should leave the army; he should go into Parliament; he should cut a figure in the fashion and in the state. This imperative hint disturbed George a good deal. He was in the very first enthusiasm and delight of his second courtship of Amelia, which was inexpressibly sweet to him.

Miss Schwarz did her best to appear in Russel Square. Whenever there was a chance of meeting George, that simple and good-natured young woman was quite in a hurry to see her dear Misses Osborne.

The day after George had his hint from his father, and a short time before the hour of dinner, he was in the drawing-room in a very becoming and perfectly natural attitude of melancholy. He came home to find his sisters there, and honest Swartz in her favourite amber-coloured satin.

The sisters began to play the piano. “Stop that thing,” George howled out in a fury from the sofa. “It makes me mad. You play us something, Miss Swartz, do. Sing something.”

“I can sing ‘Fluvy du Tajy,’” Swartz said, in a meek voice, “if I had the words.”

“O, ‘Fleuve du Tage,[17]’” Miss Maria cried; “we have the song,” and went off to fetch the book in which it was.

Now it happened that this song, then in the height of the fashion, had been given to the young ladies by a young friend of theirs, whose name was on the title, and Miss Swartz saw “Amelia Sedley” written in the corner.

“Lord!” cried Miss Swartz, “is it my Amelia? Amelia that was at Miss P.’s at Hammersmith? I know it is. It’s her. Tell me about her – where is she?”

“Don’t mention her,” Miss Maria Osborne said hastily. “Her family has disgraced itself. She is never to be mentioned HERE.”

“Are you a friend of Amelia’s?” George said, bouncing up. “God bless you for it, Miss Swartz. Don’t believe what the girls say. SHE’S not to blame at any rate. She’s the best – ”

“You know you’re not to speak about her, George,” cried Jane. “Papa forbids it.”

“Who’s to prevent me?” George cried out. “I will speak of her. I say she’s the best, the kindest, the gentlest, the sweetest girl in England; and that, bankrupt or no, my sisters are not fit to hold candles to her. If you like her, go and see her, Miss

Swartz; she wants friends now; and I say, God bless everybody who befriends her. I say,” George said fiercely, “I thank everybody who loves Amelia Sed – ” He stopped.

Old Osborne was in the room with a face livid with rage, and eyes like hot coals.

“Miss Swartz, I love Amelia, and we’ve been engaged almost all our lives,” Osborne said to poor Miss Schwarz.

After dinner with a purple choking face, old Osborne then began. “How dare you, sir, mention that person’s name before Miss Swartz today, in my drawing-room? I ask you, sir, how dare you do it?”

“I’m a gentleman though I AM your son, sir,” George answered haughtily.

“I ain’t going to have any of this dam sentimental nonsense, sir,” the father cried out. “There shall be no beggar-marriages in my family. If you choose to fling away eight thousand a year, you take your pack and walk out of this house, sir. Will you do as I tell you, once for all, sir, or will you not?”