Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The Virginians by William Makepeace Thackeray (kiss me liar novel english txt) 📖
- Author: William Makepeace Thackeray
Book online «The Virginians by William Makepeace Thackeray (kiss me liar novel english txt) 📖». Author William Makepeace Thackeray
“You are right, my dear,” says papa.
“Didn't I tell you she always is?” interposes Hetty.
“Yonder sentry is a better critic than we are, and a touch of nature masters us all.”
“Tamen usque recurrit!” cries the young student from college.
George felt abashed somehow, and interested too. He had been sneering, and Theo sympathising. Her kindness was better—nay, wiser—than his scepticism, perhaps. Nevertheless, when, at the beginning of the fifth act of the play, young Douglas, drawing his sword and looking up at the gallery, bawled out—
“Ye glorious stars! high heaven's resplendent host! To whom I oft have of my lot complained, Hear and record my soul's unaltered wish Living or dead, let me but be renowned! May Heaven inspire some fierce gigantic Dane To give a bold defiance to our host! Before he speaks it out, I will accept, Like Douglas conquer, or like Douglas die!”—The gods, to whom Mr. Barry appealed, saluted this heroic wish with immense applause, and the General clapped his hands prodigiously. His daughter was rather disconcerted.
“This Douglas is not only brave, but he is modest!” says papa.
“I own I think he need not have asked for a gigantic Dane,” says Theo, smiling, as Lady Randolph entered in the midst of the gallery thunder.
When the applause had subsided, Lady Randolph is made to say—
“My son, I heard a voice!”“I think she did hear a voice!” cries papa. “Why, the fellow was bellowing like a bull of Bashan.” And the General would scarcely behave himself from thenceforth to the end of the performance. He said he was heartily glad that the young gentleman was put to death behind the scenes. When Lady Randolph's friend described how her mistress had “flown like lightning up the hill, and plunged herself into the empty air,” Mr. Lambert said he was delighted to be rid of her. “And as for that story of her early marriage,” says he, “I have my very strongest doubts about it.”
“Nonsense, Martin! Look, children! their Royal Highnesses are moving.”
The tragedy over, the Princess Dowager and the Prince were, in fact, retiring; though, I dare say, the latter, who was always fond of a farce, would have been far better pleased with that which followed than he had been with Mr. Home's dreary tragic masterpiece.
CHAPTER LX. Which treats of Macbeth, a Supper, and a Pretty Kettle of
Fish
When the performances were concluded, our friends took coach for Mr. Warrington's lodging, where the Virginians had provided an elegant supper. Mr. Warrington was eager to treat them in the handsomest manner, and the General and his wife accepted the invitation of the two bachelors, pleased to think that they could give their young friends pleasure. General and Mrs. Lambert, their son from college, their two blooming daughters, and Mr. Spencer of the Temple, a new friend whom George had met at the coffee-house, formed the party, and partook with cheerfulness of the landlady's fare. The order of their sitting I have not been able exactly to ascertain; but, somehow, Miss Theo had a place next to the chickens and Mr. George Warrington, whilst Miss Hetty and a ham divided the attentions of Mr. Harry. Mrs. Lambert must have been on George's right hand, so that we have but to settle the three places of the General, his son, and the Templar.
Mr. Spencer had been at the other theatre, where, on a former day, he had actually introduced George to the greenroom. The conversation about the play was resumed, and some of the party persisted in being delighted with it.
“As for what our gentlemen say, sir,” cries Mrs. Lambert to Mr. Spencer, “you must not believe a word of it. 'Tis a delightful piece, and my husband and Mr. George behaved as ill as possible.”
“We laughed in the wrong place, and when we ought to have cried,” the General owned, “that's the truth.”
“You caused all the people in the boxes about us to look round and cry 'Hush!' You made the pit folks say, 'Silence in the boxes, yonder!' Such behaviour I never knew, and quite blushed for you, Mr. Lambert!”
“Mamma thought it was a tragedy, and we thought it was a piece of fun,” says the General. “George and I behaved perfectly well, didn't we, Theo?”
“Not when I was looking your way, papa!” Theo replies. At which the General asks, “Was there ever such a saucy baggage seen?”
“You know, sir, I didn't speak till I was bid,” Theo continues, modestly. “I own I was very much moved by the play, and the beauty and acting of Mrs. Woffington. I was sorry that the poor mother should find her child, and lose him. I am sorry, too, papa, if I oughtn't to have been sorry!” adds the young lady, with a smile.
“Women are not so clever as men, you know, Theo,” cries Hetty from her end of the table, with a sly look at Harry. “The next time we go to the play, please, brother Jack, pinch us when we ought to cry, or give us a nudge when it is right to laugh.”
“I wish we could have had the fight,” said General Lambert, “the fight between little Norval and the gigantic Norwegian—that would have been rare sport: and you should write, Jack, and suggest it to Mr. Rich, the manager.”
“I have not seen that: but I saw Slack and Broughton at Marybone Gardens!” says Harry, gravely; and wondered if he had said something witty, as all the company laughed so? “It would require no giant,” he added, “to knock over yonder little fellow in the red boots. I, for one, could throw him over my shoulder.”
“Mr. Garrick is a little man. But there are times when he looks a giant,” says Mr. Spencer. “How grand he was in Macbeth, Mr. Warrington! How awful that dagger-scene was! You should have seen our host, ladies! I presented Mr. Warrington, in the greenroom, to Mr. Garrick and Mrs. Pritchard, and Lady Macbeth did him the honour to take a pinch out of his box.”
“Did the wife of the Thane of Cawdor sneeze?” asked the General, in an awful voice.
“She thanked Mr. Warrington, in tones so hollow and tragic, that he started back, and must have upset some of his rappee, for Macbeth sneezed thrice.”
“Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth!” cries the General.
“And the great philosopher who was standing by Mr. Johnson, says, 'You must mind, Davy, lest thy sneeze should awaken Duncan!' who, by the way, was talking with the three witches as they sat against the wall.”
“What! Have you been behind the scenes at the play? Oh, I would give worlds to go behind the scenes!” cries Theo.
“And see the
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