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Florian And Crescence
by
“Oh, you’re nervous because nobody will lend you any thing,” replied the assailed one. “You’re a sweet one, Dolly, to set her a-going.”
“Well, what did you fly at Dolly that way for?” said Melchior’s Lenore: “she didn’t mean any harm by it. Can’t you take a little fun?”
“Has Florian really come home?” asked Crescence, softly.
“Of course he has,” cried Corpse Kitty, aloud. “Just look out, you hemp-toad: you’ll find you’ve ‘most done carrying your head as high as a sleigh-horse: Florian will take the geometer’s bearings before you know what’s what.”
Soges now appeared as another Moses to open the well for the daughters of Jethro: he did not seem to woo any of them, however, for he was not by any means in a bland or amiable frame of mind.
“Give Crescence the cream of the water: she’s got to have the geometer’s standees washed to-night,” cried Kitty.
“Let her talk,” said Lenore: “you can’t worry her more than by not listening to her. She’s just like the dogs: they bark at you, and if you walk on quietly they run home again and bark at the next person that comes along the road. She’s after making everybody out as bad as she is herself, if she can. But you must be on the look-out about Florian now, or you’ll get into trouble.”
“Yes,” said another girl: “he’s brought lots of money with him, and the first thing he did was to give his father a gold ducat. The money must ‘a’ looked scared when it got into that room. The old fellow’s so poor that the mice all ran away from him.”
“Florian can dress and undress himself five times over and not take all the fine clothes out of his chest,” said a third.
“And he speaks French ‘most all the time.”
“And he has a watch, with a chain, and all the tools of his trade hung to it in silver for charms.”
“And he’s got a black mustache you can hardly help kissing.”
A dispute interrupted this torrent of items.
“What’re you pushing me so for?” said Corpse Kitty to Kilian’s Annie: “I’m not a rich chap.”
“Hold your jaw, you!–you’ve been to the House of Correction twice already, and the third time’s written on your forehead now.”
“I’ll mark your forehead,” screeched Kitty, striking at Annie with her bucket; but she parried the blow, and struck another. A fierce struggle ensued: the buckets were dropped, and the combatants “clinched” hand to hand. After looking on passively a while, the others interfered, Soges particularly dealing official blows to the right and left with great vigor and impartiality. Like two fighting-cocks torn asunder, the hostile parties looked daggers at each other as they picked up their buckets. Annie brushed her hair out of her face, crying bitterly, and complaining that nobody was safe, nor ever would be, until Corpse Kitty was in the House of Correction for life.
Crescence’s turn having come at last, she carried the heavy bucket home on her head and a still heavier load in her heart. Tears were rolling down her cheeks; but she pretended that they were drops from the bucket, and always wiped the lower rim of it with her apron. There was confusion in her heart now, and she foresaw still greater troubles in the future.
Having returned home, she went through with her work, but without singing another note.
Lest our readers should be at a loss to divine what a titled personage like a geometer should be doing in the village, it is proper to remind them that the general survey of the country took place about this time. Every nook and corner of the land was mapped, labelled, and numbered; and in the course of the operation a new element was infused into the life of the people. A race of “city fellows,” belonging neither to the order of parsons nor to that of schoolmasters, made their way into the village: they were generally young, smart, and fond of enjoyment; and the importance they soon acquired among the female portion of the community has already become apparent.