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Reading books fiction 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.



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Read books online » Fiction » The Splendid Spur<br />Being Memoirs of the Adventures of Mr. John Marvel, a Servant of His Late Maj by Arthur Quiller-Couch (the giving tree read aloud .txt) 📖

Book online «The Splendid Spur&lt;br /&gt;Being Memoirs of the Adventures of Mr. John Marvel, a Servant of His Late Maj by Arthur Quiller-Couch (the giving tree read aloud .txt) 📖». Author Arthur Quiller-Couch



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as cool as you please.

'Twas worth while to see their surprise. Prince Maurice ran back to the table for his sword: his brother (being more thoroughly drunk) dropped a decanter on the floor, and lay back staring in his chair. While as for my kinsman, he sat with mouth wide and eyes starting, as tho' I were a very ghost. In the which embarrassment I took occasion to say, very politely—

“Good evening, nunky!”

“Who the devil is this?” gasps Prince Rupert.

“Why the fact is, your Highnesses,” answered I, stepping up and laying my sword on the table, while I pour'd out a glass, “Master Timothy Carter here is my guardian, and has the small sum of L200 in his possession for my use, of which I happen to-night to stand in immediate need. So you see—” I finished the sentence by tossing off a glass. “This is rare stuff!” I said.

“Blood and fury!” burst out Prince Rupert, fumbling for his sword, and then gazing, drunk and helpless.

“Two hundred pound! Thou jackanapes—” began Master Carter.

“I'll let you off with fifty to-night,” said I. — “Ten thousand—!”

“No, fifty. Indeed, nunky,” I went on, “'tis very simple. I was at the 'Crown' tavern—”

“At a tavern!”

“Aye, at a game of dice—”

“Dice!”

“Aye, and a young man was killed—”

“Thou shameless puppy! A man murder'd!”

“Aye, nunky; and the worst is they say 'twas I that kill'd him.”

“He's mad. The boy's stark raving mad!” exclaim'd my kinsman. “To come here in this trim!”

“Why, truly, nunky, thou art a strange one to talk of appearances. Oh, dear!” and I burst into a wild fit of laughing, for the wine had warm'd me up to play the comedy out. “To hear thee sing

“'With a fa—la—tweedle—tweedle!'

and—Oh, nunky, that medlar on thy face is so funny!”

“In Heaven's name, stop!” broke in the Prince Maurice. “Am I mad, or only drunk? Rupert, if you love me, say I am no worse than drunk.”

“Lord knows,” answer'd his brother. “I for one was never this way before.”

“Indeed, your Highnesses be only drunk,” said I, “and able at that to sign the order that I shall ask you for.”

“An order!”

“To pass the city gates to-night.”

“Oh, stop him somebody,” groan'd Prince Rupert: “my head is whirling.”

“With your leave,” I explain'd, pouring out another glassful: “tis the simplest matter, and one that a child could understand. You see, this young man was kill'd, and they charg'd me with it; so away I ran, and the Watch after me; and therefore I wish to pass the city gates. And as I may have far to travel, and gave my last groat to a thief for hoisting me over Master Carter's wall—”

“A thief—my wall!” repeated Master Carter. “Oh well is thy poor mother in her grave!”

“—Why, therefore I came for money,” I wound up, sipping the wine, and nodding to all present.

'Twas at this moment that, catching my eye, the Prince Maurice slapp'd his leg, and leaning back, broke into peal after peal of laughter. And in a moment his brother took the jest also; and there we three sat and shook, and roar'd unquenchably round Master Carter, who, staring blankly from one to another, sat gaping, as though the last alarm were sounding in his ears.

“Oh! oh! oh! Hit me on the back, Maurice!”

“Oh! oh! I cannot—'tis killing me—Master Carter, for pity's sake, look not so; but pay the lad his money.”

“Your Highness——”

“Pay it I say; pay it: 'tis fairly won.”

“Fifty pounds!”

“Every doit,” said I: “I'm sick of schooling.”

“Be hang'd if I do!” snapp'd Master Carter.

“Then be hang'd, sir, but all the town shall hear to-morrow of the frog and the pool! No, sir: I am off to see the world——

“'Says he: “This is better than moping in school!”'”

“Your Highnesses,” pleaded the unhappy man, “if, to please you, I sang that idiocy, which, for fifty years now, I had forgotten——”

“Exc'll'nt shong,” says Prince Rupert, waking up; “less have't again!”





To be short, ten o'clock was striking from St. Mary's spire when, with a prince on either side of me, and thirty guineas in my pocket (which was all the loose gold he had), I walked forth from Master Carter's door. To make up the deficiency, their highnesses had insisted on furnishing me with a suit made up from the simplest in their joint wardrobes—riding-boots, breeches, buff-coat, sash, pistols, cloak, and feather'd hat, all of which fitted me excellently well. By the doors of Christ Church, before we came to the south gate, Prince Rupert, who had been staggering in his walk, suddenly pull'd up, and leaned against the wall.

“Why—odd's my life—we've forgot a horse for him!” he cried.

“Indeed, your Highness,” I answered, “if my luck holds the same, I shall find one by the road.” (How true this turned out you shall presently hear.)

There was no difficulty at the gate, where the sentry recogniz'd the two princes and open'd the wicket at once. Long after it had clos'd behind me, and I stood looking back at Oxford towers, all bath'd in the winter moonlight, I heard the two voices roaring away up the street:

“It was a frog leap'd into a pool—”

At length they died into silence; and, hugging the king's letter in my breast, I stepped briskly forward on my travels.







CHAPTER IV. — I TAKE THE ROAD.

So puffed up was I by the condescension of the two princes, and my head so busy with big thoughts, that not till I was over the bridges and climbing the high ground beyond South Hincksey, with a shrewd northeast wind at my back, could I spare time for a second backward look. By this, the city lay spread at my feet, very delicate and beautiful in a silver network, with a black clump or two to southward, where the line of Bagley trees ran below the hill. I pulled out the letter that Anthony had given me. In the moonlight the brown smear of his blood was

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