"Nay, I know not," answered his friend. "But the sun dazzles myeyes strangely. How dim and faded his lordship looks all of asudden! Bless my wits, what is the matter with me?""The wonder is, said the other, "that his pipe, which was outonly an instant ago, should be all alight again, and with thereddest coal I ever saw. There is something mysterious about thisstranger. What a whiff of smoke was that! Dim and faded did you callhim? Why, as he turns about the star on his breast is all ablaze.""It is, indeed," said his companion; "and it will go near to dazzlepretty Polly Gookin, whom I see peeping at it out of the chamberwindow."The door being now opened, Feathertop turned to the crowd, made astately bend of his body like a great man acknowledging thereverence of the meaner sort, and vanished into the house. There was amysterious kind of a smile, if it might not better be called a grin orgrimace, upon his visage; but, of all the throng that beheld him,not an individual appears to have possessed insight enough to detectthe illusive character of the stranger except a little child and a curdog.
Our legend here loses somewhat of its continuity, and, passing overthe preliminary explanation between Feathertop and the merchant,goes in quest of the pretty Polly Gookin. She was a damsel of asoft, round figure, with light hair and blue eyes, and a fair, rosyface, which seemed neither very shrewd nor very simple. This younglady had caught a glimpse of the glistening stranger while standing atthe threshold, and had forthwith put on a laced cap, a string ofbeads, her finest kerchief, and her stiffest damask petticoat inpreparation for the interview. Hurrying from her chamber to theparlor, she had ever since been viewing herself in the largelooking-glass and practising pretty airs- now a smile, now aceremonious dignity of aspect, and now a softer smile than the former,kissing her hand likewise, tossing her head, and managing her fan;while within the mirror an unsubstantial little maid repeated everygesture and did all the foolish things that Polly did, but withoutmaking her ashamed of them. In short, it was the fault of prettyPolly's ability rather than her will if she failed to be as completean artifice as the illustrious Feathertop himself; and, when shethus tampered with her own simplicity, the witch's phantom mightwell hope to win her.
No sooner did Polly hear her father's gouty footsteps approachingthe parlor door, accompanied with the stiff clatter of Feathertop'shigh-heeled shoes, than she seated herself bolt upright and innocentlybegan warbling a song.
"Polly! daughter Polly!" cried the old merchant. "Come hither,child."Master Gookin's aspect, as he opened the door, was doubtful andtroubled.
"This gentleman," continued he, presenting the stranger, "is theChevalier Feathertop- nay, I beg his pardon, my Lord Feathertop- whohath brought me a token of remembrance from an ancient friend of mine.
Pay your duty to his lordship, child, and honor him as his qualitydeserves."After these few words of introduction, the worshipful magistrateimmediately quitted the room. But, even in that brief moment, hadthe fair Polly glanced aside at her father instead of devoting herselfwholly to the brilliant guest, she might have taken warning of somemischief nigh at hand. The old man was nervous, fidgety, and verypale. Purposing a smile of courtesy, he had deformed his face with asort of galvanic grin, which, when Feathertop's back was turned, heexchanged for a scowl, at the same time shaking his fist andstamping his gouty foot- an incivility which brought its retributionalong with it. The truth appears to have been that Mother Rigby's wordof introduction, whatever it might be, had operated far more on therich merchant's fears than on his good will. Moreover, being a manof wonderfully acute observation, he had noticed that these paintedfigures on the bowl of Feathertop's pipe were in motion. Lookingmore closely, he became convinced that these figures were a party oflittle demons, each duly provided with horns and a tail, and dancinghand in hand, with gestures of diabolical merriment, round thecircumference of the pipe bowl. As if to confirm his suspicions, whileMaster Gookin ushered his guest along a dusky passage from his privateroom to the parlor, the star on Feathertop's breast had scintillatedactual flames, and threw a flickering gleam upon the wall, theceiling, and the floor.
With such sinister prognostics manifesting themselves on all hands,it is not to be marvelled at that the merchant should have felt thathe was committing his daughter to a very questionable acquaintance. Hecursed, in his secret soul, the insinuating elegance of Feathertop'smanners, as this brilliant personage bowed, smiled, put his hand onhis heart, inhaled a long whiff from his pipe, and enriched theatmosphere with the smoky vapor of a fragrant and visible sigh. Gladlywould poor Master Gookin have thrust his dangerous guest into thestreet; but there was a constraint and terror within him. Thisrespectable old gentleman, we fear, at an earlier period of life,had given some pledge or other to the evil principle, and perhapswas now to redeem it by the sacrifice of his daughter.
It so happened that the parlor door was partly of glass, shadedby a silken curtain, the folds of which hung a little awry. Sostrong was the merchant's interest in witnessing what was to ensuebetween the fair Polly and the gallant Feathertop that, after quittingthe room, he could by no means refrain from peeping through thecrevice of the curtain.
