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 Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby by Charles Dickens (classic novels txt) 📖
- Author: Charles Dickens
- Performer: 0140435123
Book online «The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby by Charles Dickens (classic novels txt) 📖». Author Charles Dickens
‘Oh dear, Mrs Kenwigs,’ said Miss Petowker, ‘while Mr Noggs is making that punch to drink happy returns in, do let Morleena go through that figure dance before Mr Lillyvick.’
‘No, no, my dear,’ replied Mrs Kenwigs, ‘it will only worry my uncle.’
‘It can’t worry him, I am sure,’ said Miss Petowker. ‘You will be very much pleased, won’t you, sir?’
‘That I am sure I shall’ replied the collector, glancing at the punch-mixer.
‘Well then, I’ll tell you what,’ said Mrs Kenwigs, ‘Morleena shall do the steps, if uncle can persuade Miss Petowker to recite us the Blood-Drinker’s Burial, afterwards.’
There was a great clapping of hands and stamping of feet, at this proposition; the subject whereof, gently inclined her head several times, in acknowledgment of the reception.
‘You know,’ said Miss Petowker, reproachfully, ‘that I dislike doing anything professional in private parties.’
‘Oh, but not here!’ said Mrs Kenwigs. ‘We are all so very friendly and pleasant, that you might as well be going through it in your own room; besides, the occasion—’
‘I can’t resist that,’ interrupted Miss Petowker; ‘anything in my humble power I shall be delighted to do.’
Mrs Kenwigs and Miss Petowker had arranged a small PROGRAMME of the entertainments between them, of which this was the prescribed order, but they had settled to have a little pressing on both sides, because it looked more natural. The company being all ready, Miss Petowker hummed a tune, and Morleena danced a dance; having previously had the soles of her shoes chalked, with as much care as if she were going on the tight-rope. It was a very beautiful figure, comprising a great deal of work for the arms, and was received with unbounded applause.
‘If I was blessed with a—a child—’ said Miss Petowker, blushing, ‘of such genius as that, I would have her out at the Opera instantly.’
Mrs Kenwigs sighed, and looked at Mr Kenwigs, who shook his head, and observed that he was doubtful about it.
‘Kenwigs is afraid,’ said Mrs K.
‘What of?’ inquired Miss Petowker, ‘not of her failing?’
‘Oh no,’ replied Mrs Kenwigs, ‘but if she grew up what she is now,— only think of the young dukes and marquises.’
‘Very right,’ said the collector.
‘Still,’ submitted Miss Petowker, ‘if she took a proper pride in herself, you know—’
‘There’s a good deal in that,’ observed Mrs Kenwigs, looking at her husband.
‘I only know—’ faltered Miss Petowker,—‘it may be no rule to be sure—but I have never found any inconvenience or unpleasantness of that sort.’
Mr Kenwigs, with becoming gallantry, said that settled the question at once, and that he would take the subject into his serious consideration. This being resolved upon, Miss Petowker was entreated to begin the Blood-Drinker’s Burial; to which end, that young lady let down her back hair, and taking up her position at the other end of the room, with the bachelor friend posted in a corner, to rush out at the cue ‘in death expire,’ and catch her in his arms when she died raving mad, went through the performance with extraordinary spirit, and to the great terror of the little Kenwigses, who were all but frightened into fits.
The ecstasies consequent upon the effort had not yet subsided, and Newman (who had not been thoroughly sober at so late an hour for a long long time,) had not yet been able to put in a word of announcement, that the punch was ready, when a hasty knock was heard at the room-door, which elicited a shriek from Mrs Kenwigs, who immediately divined that the baby had fallen out of bed.
‘Who is that?’ demanded Mr Kenwigs, sharply.
‘Don’t be alarmed, it’s only me,’ said Crowl, looking in, in his nightcap. ‘The baby is very comfortable, for I peeped into the room as I came down, and it’s fast asleep, and so is the girl; and I don’t think the candle will set fire to the bed-curtain, unless a draught was to get into the room—it’s Mr Noggs that’s wanted.’
‘Me!’ cried Newman, much astonished.
‘Why, it IS a queer hour, isn’t it?’ replied Crowl, who was not best pleased at the prospect of losing his fire; ‘and they are queer-looking people, too, all covered with rain and mud. Shall I tell them to go away?’
‘No,’ said Newman, rising. ‘People? How many?’
‘Two,’ rejoined Crowl.
‘Want me? By name?’ asked Newman.
‘By name,’ replied Crowl. ‘Mr Newman Noggs, as pat as need be.’
Newman reflected for a few seconds, and then hurried away, muttering that he would be back directly. He was as good as his word; for, in an exceedingly short time, he burst into the room, and seizing, without a word of apology or explanation, a lighted candle and tumbler of hot punch from the table, darted away like a madman.
‘What the deuce is the matter with him?’ exclaimed Crowl, throwing the door open. ‘Hark! Is there any noise above?’
The guests rose in great confusion, and, looking in each other’s faces with much perplexity and some fear, stretched their necks forward, and listened attentively.
Acquaints the Reader with the Cause and Origin of the Interruption described in the last Chapter, and with some other Matters necessary to be known
Newman Noggs scrambled in violent haste upstairs with the steaming beverage, which he had so unceremoniously snatched from the table of Mr Kenwigs, and indeed from the very grasp of the water-rate collector, who was eyeing the contents of the tumbler, at the moment of its unexpected abstraction, with lively marks of pleasure visible in his countenance. He bore his prize straight to his own back-garret, where, footsore and nearly shoeless, wet, dirty, jaded, and disfigured with every mark of fatiguing travel, sat Nicholas and Smike, at once the cause and partner of his toil; both perfectly worn out by their unwonted and protracted exertion.
Newman’s first act was to compel Nicholas, with gentle force, to swallow half of the punch at a breath, nearly boiling as it was; and his next, to pour the remainder down the throat of Smike, who, never having tasted anything stronger than aperient medicine in his whole life, exhibited various odd manifestations of surprise and delight, during the passage of the liquor down his throat, and turned up his eyes most emphatically when it was all gone.
‘You are wet through,’ said Newman, passing his hand hastily over the coat which Nicholas had thrown off; ‘and I—I—haven’t even a change,’ he added, with a wistful glance at the shabby clothes he wore himself.
‘I have dry clothes, or at least such as will serve my turn well, in my bundle,’ replied Nicholas. ‘If you look so distressed to see me, you will add to the pain I feel already, at being compelled, for one night, to cast myself upon your slender means for aid and shelter.’
Newman did not look the less distressed to hear Nicholas talking in this strain; but, upon his young friend grasping him heartily by the hand, and assuring him that nothing but implicit confidence in the sincerity of his professions, and kindness of feeling towards himself, would have induced him, on any consideration, even to have made him acquainted with his arrival in London, Mr Noggs brightened up again, and went about making such arrangements as were in his power for the comfort of his visitors, with extreme alacrity.
These were simple enough; poor Newman’s means halting at a very considerable distance short of his inclinations; but, slight as they were, they were not made without much bustling and running about. As Nicholas had husbanded his scanty stock of money, so well that it was not yet quite expended, a supper of bread and cheese, with some cold beef from the cook’s shop, was soon placed upon the table; and these viands being flanked by a bottle of spirits and a pot of porter, there was no ground for apprehension on the score of hunger or thirst, at all events. Such preparations as Newman had it in his power to make, for the accommodation of his guests during the night, occupied no very great time in completing; and as he had insisted, as an express preliminary, that Nicholas should change his clothes, and that Smike should invest himself in his solitary coat (which no entreaties would dissuade him from stripping off for the purpose), the travellers partook of their frugal fare, with more satisfaction than one of them at least had derived from many a better meal.
They then drew near the fire, which Newman Noggs had made up as well as he could, after the inroads of Crowl upon the fuel; and Nicholas, who had hitherto been restrained by the extreme anxiety of his friend that he should refresh himself after his journey, now pressed him with earnest questions concerning his mother and sister.
‘Well,’ replied Newman, with his accustomed taciturnity; ‘both well.’
‘They are living in the city still?’ inquired Nicholas.
‘They are,’ said Newman.
‘And my sister,’—added Nicholas. ‘Is she still engaged in the business which she wrote to tell me she thought she should like so much?’
Newman opened his eyes rather wider than usual, but merely replied by a gasp, which, according to the action of the head that accompanied it, was interpreted by his friends as meaning yes or no. In the present instance, the pantomime consisted of a nod, and not a shake; so Nicholas took the answer as a favourable one.
‘Now listen to me,’ said Nicholas, laying his hand on Newman’s shoulder. ‘Before I would make an effort to see them, I deemed it expedient to come to you, lest, by gratifying my own selfish desire, I should inflict an injury upon them which I can never repair. What has my uncle heard from Yorkshire?’
Newman opened and shut his mouth, several times, as though he were trying his utmost to speak, but could make nothing of it, and finally fixed his eyes on Nicholas with a grim and ghastly stare.
‘What has he heard?’ urged Nicholas, colouring. ‘You see that I am prepared to hear the very worst that malice can have suggested. Why should you conceal it from me? I must know it sooner or later; and what purpose can be gained by trifling with the matter for a few minutes, when half the time would put me in possession of all that has occurred? Tell me at once, pray.’
‘Tomorrow morning,’ said Newman; ‘hear it tomorrow.’
‘What purpose would that answer?’ urged Nicholas.
‘You would sleep the better,’ replied Newman.
‘I should sleep the worse,’ answered Nicholas, impatiently. ‘Sleep! Exhausted as I am, and standing in no common need of rest, I cannot hope to close my eyes all night, unless you tell me everything.’
‘And if I should tell you everything,’ said Newman, hesitating.
‘Why, then you may rouse my indignation or wound my pride,’ rejoined Nicholas; ‘but you will not break my rest; for if the scene were acted over again, I could take no other part than I have taken; and whatever consequences may accrue to myself from it, I shall never regret doing as I have done—never, if I starve or beg in consequence. What is a little poverty or suffering, to the disgrace of the basest and most inhuman cowardice! I tell you, if I had stood by, tamely and passively, I should have hated myself, and merited the contempt of every man in existence. The black-hearted scoundrel!’
With this gentle allusion to the absent Mr Squeers, Nicholas repressed his rising wrath, and relating to Newman exactly what had passed at Dotheboys Hall, entreated him to speak out without more pressing. Thus adjured, Mr Noggs took, from an old trunk, a sheet of paper, which appeared to have been scrawled over in great haste; and after sundry extraordinary demonstrations
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