THE SILLY LIFE
"Call a cab for Sir Tiglath, Mr.Ferdinand," whispered the Prophet--"a four-wheeler with a lame horse.I'll take both Mr.and Madame Sagittarius in the brougham.""Must the horse be lame, sir?"
"Yes.I absolutely decline to encourage the practice of using good horses in four-wheeled cabs.It's a disgrace to the poor animals.It must be a very lame horse.""Yes, sir."
And Mr.Ferdinand, standing upon the doorstep, whistled to the night.
Strange to say, in about two minutes there appeared round the corner the very same cabman who had conveyed the Prophet and Lady Enid to the astronomer's on the previous day, driving the very same horse.
"This horse will do admirably," said the Prophet to Mr.Ferdinand.
"He isn't lame, sir."
"P'r'aps not; but he knows how to tumble down.Sir Tiglath, here is a cab for you.We shall go in the brougham.Zoological House, Regent's Park, is the direction.Let me help you in, Madame."As the Prophet got in to sit bodkin between his old and valued friends, he whispered to the footman,--"Tell Simkins to drive as fast as possible.We are very late."The footman touched his hat.Just as the carriage moved off, the Prophet protruded his head from the window, and saw the astronomer rolling into the four-wheeler, the horse of which immediately fell down in a most satisfactory manner.
There was no general conversation in the brougham, but the Prophet, who was obliged to sit partly on Madame, and partly on Mr.Sagittarius and partly on air, occasionally heard in the darkness at his back terrible matrimonial whisperings, whose exact tenor he was unable to catch.Once only he heard Madame say sibilantly and with a vicious click,--"I might have known what to expect when I married a Prophet--when Ipassed over the /pons asinoribus/ to give myself to a /monstram horrendo/."To this pathetic heart-cry Mr.Sagittarius made a very prolonged answer.The Prophet knew it was prolonged because Mr.Sagittarius always whispered in such a manner as to tickle the nape of his neck.
But he could not hear anything except a sound like steam escaping from a small pipe.The steam went on escaping until the brougham passed through a gate, rolled down a declivity, and drew up before an enormous mansion whose windows blazed with light.
"Is this the Zoological Gardens?" inquired Madame in a stern voice."Is this the habitation of the woman Bridgeman?""I suppose this is Zoological House," replied the Prophet, sliding decorously off Madame's left knee in preparation for descent.
"My darling! my love!" said Mr.Sagittarius."I swear upon the infant head of our Capricornus that Mrs.Bridgeman and I are--""Enough!" cried Madame."/Jam satus/! Be sure that I will inquire into this matter."The carriage door was opened and, with some struggling, the Prophet and his two valued friends emerged and speedily found themselves in a very large hall, which was nearly full of very large powdered footmen.In the distance there was the sound of united frivolities, a band of twenty guitars thrumming a wilful /seguidilla/.Roses bloomed on every side, and beyond the hall they beheld a vision of illuminated vistas, down which vague figures came and went.
Evidently when Mrs.Bridgeman let herself go she let herself go thoroughly.
Mr.Sagittarius gazed about him with awe-struck amazement, but Madame was equal to the occasion.She cast the rabbit-skins imperially to a neighbouring flunkey, arranged her hair and fichu before a glass, kicked out her skirt with the heel of one of the kid boots, nipped the green chiffon into prominence with decisive fingers, and then, turning to the Prophet with all the majesty of a suburban empress, said in a powerful voice,--"Step forward, I beg./J'ai pret/."
The Prophet, thus encouraged, stepped forward towards an aperture that on ordinary days contained a door, but that now contained a stout elderly lady, with henna-dyed hair, a powdered face, black eyebrows and a yellow gown, on which rested a large number of jewelled ornaments that looked like small bombs.At this lady's elbow stood a footman with an exceedingly powerful bass voice, who shouted the names of approaching guests in a manner so uncompromising as to be terrific.
Each time he so shouted the stout lady first started and then smiled, the two operations succeeding one another with almost inconceivable rapidity and violence.
"What name, sir?" asked the footman of the Prophet, bending his powdered head till it was only about six feet two inches from the floor.
"Mr.Hennessey Vivian," replied the Prophet, hesitating as to what he should add.
"Mr.Hemmerspeed Vivian!" roared the footman."What name, Madame?" (to Madame Sagittarius).
"Mr.and Madame Sagittarius of Sagittarius Lodge, the Mouse!" replied the lady majestically.
"Mr.--and Madame--Segerteribus--of--Segerteribus--Lodge, the Mouse!"bawled the footman.
The stout lady, who was Mrs.Vane Bridgeman, started and smiled.
"Delighted to see you, Mr.Segerteribus!" she said to the Prophet.
The Prophet hastened to explain through the uproar of twenty guitars.
"Mr.Vivian is my name.I think Miss Minerva Partridge--"Mrs.Bridgeman started and smiled.
"Of course," she exclaimed."Of course.You are to be kind enough to introduce me some day to Mr.Sagi--Sagi--something or other, and I am to introduce him to Sir Tiglath Butt, when Sir Tiglath Butt has been introduced to me by dear Miss Partridge.It is all to work out beautifully.Yes, yes! Charming! charming!""I have ventured to bring Mr.and Madame Sagittarius with me to-night,"said the Prophet.
Mrs.Bridgeman started and smiled.
"They are my old and valued friends, and--and here they are.""Delighted! delighted!" said Mrs.Bridgeman, speaking in a confused manner through the guitars."How d'you do, Mr.Sagittarius?"And she shook hands warmly with a very small and saturnine clergyman decorated with a shock of ebon hair, who was passing at the moment.
"Biggle!" said the little clergyman.
