Why the Little Frenchman Wears his Hand in a Sling
It's on my visiting cards sure enough (and it's them that's all o' pinksatin paper) that inny gintleman that plases may behould the intheristhinwords, "Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt, 39 Southampton Row, RussellSquare, Parrish o' Bloomsbury." And shud ye be wantin' to diskiver who isthe pink of purliteness quite, and the laider of the hot tun in the houlcity o' Lonon -- why it's jist mesilf. And fait that same is no wonder atall at all (so be plased to stop curlin your nose), for every inch o' thesix wakes that I've been a gintleman, and left aff wid the bogthrothing totake up wid the Barronissy, it's Pathrick that's been living like a houlyimperor, and gitting the iddication and the graces. Och! and wouldn't itbe a blessed thing for your spirrits if ye cud lay your two peepers jist,upon Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt, when he is all riddy drissed forthe hopperer, or stipping into the Brisky for the drive into the HydePark. But it's the illigant big figgur that I ave, for the rason o' whichall the ladies fall in love wid me. Isn't it my own swate silf now that'llmissure the six fut, and the three inches more nor that, in me stockins,and that am excadingly will proportioned all over to match? And it isralelly more than three fut and a bit that there is, inny how, of thelittle ould furrener Frinchman that lives jist over the way, and that's aoggling and a goggling the houl day, (and bad luck to him,) at the purtywiddy Misthress Tracle that's my own nixt-door neighbor, (God bliss her!)and a most particuller frind and acquaintance? You percave the littlespalpeen is summat down in the mouth, and wears his lift hand in a sling,and it's for that same thing, by yur lave, that I'm going to give you thegood rason.The truth of the houl matter is jist simple enough; for the very first daythat I com'd from Connaught, and showd my swate little silf in the straitto the widdy, who was looking through the windy, it was a gone casealthegither with the heart o' the purty Misthress Tracle. I percaved it,ye see, all at once, and no mistake, and that's God's truth. First of allit was up wid the windy in a jiffy, and thin she threw open her twopeepers to the itmost, and thin it was a little gould spy-glass that sheclapped tight to one o' them and divil may burn me if it didn't spake tome as plain as a peeper cud spake, and says it, through the spy-glass:"Och! the tip o' the mornin' to ye, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt,mavourneen; and it's a nate gintleman that ye are, sure enough, and it'smesilf and me forten jist that'll be at yur sarvice, dear, inny time o'day at all at all for the asking." And it's not mesilf ye wud have to bebate in the purliteness; so I made her a bow that wud ha' broken yur heartaltegither to behould, and thin I pulled aff me hat with a flourish, andthin I winked at her hard wid both eyes, as much as to say, "True for you,yer a swate little crature, Mrs. Tracle, me darlint, and I wish I may bedrownthed dead in a bog, if it's not mesilf, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison,Barronitt, that'll make a houl bushel o' love to yur leddyship, in thetwinkling o' the eye of a Londonderry purraty."And it was the nixt mornin', sure, jist as I was making up me mind whitherit wouldn't be the purlite thing to sind a bit o' writin' to the widdy byway of a love-litter, when up com'd the delivery servant wid an illigantcard, and he tould me that the name on it (for I niver could rade thecopperplate printin on account of being lift handed) was all aboutMounseer, the Count, A Goose, Look -- aisy, Maiter-di-dauns, and that thehoul of the divilish lingo was the spalpeeny long name of the little ouldfurrener Frinchman as lived over the way.And jist wid that in cum'd the little willian himself, and then he made mea broth of a bow, and thin he said he had ounly taken the liberty of doingme the honor of the giving me a call, and thin he went on to palaver at agreat rate, and divil the bit did I comprehind what he wud be afther thetilling me at all at all, excipting and saving that he said "pully wou,woolly wou," and tould me, among a bushel o' lies, bad luck to him, thathe was mad for the love o' my widdy Misthress Tracle, and that my widdyMrs. Tracle had a puncheon for him.At the hearin' of this, ye may swear, though, I was as mad as agrasshopper, but I remimbered that I was Sir Pathrick O'Grandison,Barronitt, and that it wasn't althegither gentaal to lit the anger git theupper hand o' the purliteness, so I made light o' the matter and kiptdark, and got quite sociable wid the little chap, and afther a while whatdid he do but ask me to go wid him to the widdy's, saying he wud give methe feshionable inthroduction to her leddyship."Is it there ye are?" said I thin to mesilf, "and it's thrue for you,Pathrick, that ye're the fortunittest mortal in life. We'll soon see nowwhither it's your swate silf, or whither it's little MounseerMaiter-di-dauns, that Misthress Tracle is head and ears in the love wid."Wid that we wint aff to the widdy's, next door, and ye may well say it wasan illigant place; so it was. There was a carpet all over the floor, andin one corner there was a forty-pinny and a Jew's harp and the divil knowswhat ilse, and in another corner was a sofy, the beautifullest thing inall natur, and sitting on the sofy, sure enough, there was the swatelittle angel, Misthress Tracle."The tip o' the mornin' to ye," says I, "Mrs. Tracle," and thin I madesich an illigant obaysance that it wud ha quite althegither bewildered thebrain o' ye."Wully woo, pully woo, plump in the mud," says the little furrennerFrinchman, "and sure Mrs. Tracle," says he, that he did, "isn't thisgintleman here jist his reverence Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt, andisn't he althegither and entirely the most particular frind andacquaintance that I have in the houl world?"And wid that the widdy, she gits up from the sofy, and makes the swatestcurthchy nor iver was seen; and thin down she sits like an angel; andthin, by the powers, it was that little spalpeen Mounseer Maiter-di-daunsthat plumped his silf right down by the right side of her. Och hon! Iixpicted the two eyes o' me wud ha cum'd out of my head on the spot, I wasso dispirate mad! Howiver, "Bait who!" says I, after awhile. "Is it thereye are, Mounseer Maiter-di-dauns?" and so down I plumped on the lift sideof her leddyship, to be aven with the willain. Botheration! it wud ha doneyour heart good to percave the illigant double wink that I gived her jistthin right in the face with both eyes.But the little ould Frinchman he niver beginned to suspict me at all atall, and disperate hard it was he made the love to her leddyship. "Woullywou," says he, Pully wou," says he, "Plump in the mud," says he."That's all to no use, Mounseer Frog, mavourneen," thinks I; and I talkedas hard and as fast as I could all the while, and throth it was mesilfjist that divarted her leddyship complately and intirely, by rason of theilligant conversation that I kipt up wid her all about the dear bogs ofConnaught. And by and by she gived me such a swate smile, from one ind ofher mouth to the ither, that it made me as bould as a pig, and I jist tookhould of the ind of her little finger in the most dillikitest manner innatur, looking at her all the while out o' the whites of my eyes.And then ounly percave the cuteness of the swate angel, for no sooner didshe obsarve that I was afther the squazing of her flipper, than she up widit in a jiffy, and put it away behind her back, jist as much as to say,"Now thin, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, there's a bitther chance for ye,mavourneen, for it's not altogether the gentaal thing to be afther thesquazing of my flipper right full in the sight of that little furrennerFrinchman, Mounseer Maiter-di-dauns."Wid that I giv'd her a big wink jist to say, "lit Sir Pathrick alone forthe likes o' them thricks," and thin I wint aisy to work, and you'd havedied wid the divarsion to behould how cliverly I slipped my right armbetwane the back o' the sofy, and the back of her leddyship, and there,sure enough, I found a swate little flipper all a waiting to say, "the tipo' the mornin' to ye, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt." And wasn't itmesilf, sure, that jist giv'd it the laste little bit of a squaze in theworld, all in the way of a commincement, and not to be too rough wid herleddyship? and och, botheration, wasn't it the gentaalest and dilikittestof all the little squazes that I got in return? "Blood and thunder, SirPathrick, mavourneen," thinks I to mesilf, "fait it's jist the mother'sson of you, and nobody else at all at all, that's the handsomest and thefortunittest young bog-throtter that ever cum'd out of Connaught!" Andwith that I givd the flipper a big squaze, and a big squaze it was, by thepowers, that her leddyship giv'd to me back. But it would ha split theseven sides of you wid the laffin' to behould, jist then all at once, theconsated behavior of Mounseer Maiter-di-dauns. The likes o' sich ajabbering, and a smirking, and a parley-wouing as he begin'd wid herleddyship, niver was known before upon arth; and divil may burn me if itwasn't me own very two peepers that cotch'd him tipping her the wink outof one eye. Och, hon! if it wasn't mesilf thin that was mad as a Kilkennycat I shud like to be tould who it was!"Let me infarm you, Mounseer Maiter-di-dauns," said I, as purlite as iverye seed, "that it's not the gintaal thing at all at all, and not for thelikes o' you inny how, to be afther the oggling and a goggling at herleddyship in that fashion," and jist wid that such another squaze as itwas I giv'd her flipper, all as much as to say, "isn't it Sir Pathricknow, my jewel, that'll be able to the proticting o' you, my darlint?" andthen there cum'd another squaze back, all by way of the answer. "Thrue foryou, Sir Pathrick," it said as plain as iver a squaze said in the world,"Thrue for you, Sir Pathrick, mavourneen, and it's a proper nate gintlemanye are -- that's God's truth," and with that she opened her two beautifulpeepers till I belaved they wud ha' cum'd out of her hid althegither andintirely, and she looked first as mad as a cat at Mounseer Frog, and thinas smiling as all out o' doors at mesilf."Thin," says he, the willian, "Och hon! and a wolly-wou, pully-wou," andthen wid that he shoved up his two shoulders till the divil the bit of hishid was to be diskivered, and then he let down the two corners of hispurraty-trap, and thin not a haporth more of the satisfaction could I gitout o' the spalpeen.Belave me, my jewel, it was Sir Pathrick that was unreasonable mad thin,and the more by token that the Frinchman kipt an wid his winking at thewiddy; and the widdy she kept an wid the squazing of my flipper, as muchas to say, "At him again, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, mavourneen:" so I justripped out wid a big oath, and says I;"Ye little spalpeeny frog of a bog-throtting son of a bloody noun!" -- andjist thin what d'ye think it was that her leddyship did? Troth she jumpedup from the sofy as if she was bit, and made off through the door, while Iturned my head round afther her, in a complate bewilderment andbotheration, and followed her wid me two peepers. You percave I had areason of my own for knowing that she couldn't git down the staresalthegither and intirely; for I knew very well that I had hould of herhand, for the divil the bit had I iver lit it go. And says I; "Isn't itthe laste little bit of a mistake in the world that ye've been afther themaking, yer leddyship? Come back now, that's a darlint, and I'll give yeyur flipper." But aff she wint down the stairs like a shot, and thin Iturned round to the little Frinch furrenner. Och hon! if it wasn't hisspalpeeny little paw that I had hould of in my own -- why thin -- thin itwasn't -- that's all.And maybe it wasn't mesilf that jist died then outright wid the laffin',to behold the little chap when he found out that it wasn't the widdy atall at all that he had had hould of all the time, but only Sir PathrickO'Grandison. The ould divil himself niver behild sich a long face as hepet an! As for Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt, it wasn't for thelikes of his riverence to be afther the minding of a thrifle of a mistake.Ye may jist say, though (for it's God's thruth), that afore I left houldof the flipper of the spalpeen (which was not till afther her leddyship'sfutman had kicked us both down the stairs, I giv'd it such a nate littlebroth of a squaze as made it all up into raspberry jam."Woully wou," says he, "pully wou," says he -- "Cot tam!"And that's jist the thruth of the rason why he wears his lift hand in asling.
Why the Little Frenchman Wears his Hand in a Sling was featured as
TheShort Story of the Day on
Tue, Jan 22, 2013
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