Вдали от безумной толпы

XXIII. Eventide—A Second Declaration

           

           Supperbeingended,Cogganbeganonhisownprivateaccount,withoutreferencetolisteners:

           I’velostmylove,andIcarenot,

           I’velostmylove,andIcarenot;

           Ishallsoonhaveanother

           That’sbetterthant’other;

           I’velostmylove,andIcarenot.

           Thislyric,whenconcluded,wasreceivedwithasilentlyappreciativegazeatthetable,implyingthattheperformance,likeaworkbythoseestablishedauthorswhoareindependentofnoticesinthepapers,wasawell-knowndelightwhichrequirednoapplause.

           "Now,MasterPoorgrass,yoursong!"saidCoggan.

           "Ibeallbutinliquor,andthegiftiswantinginme,"saidJoseph,diminishinghimself.

           "Nonsense;wou’stneverbesoungrateful,Josephnever!"saidCoggan,expressinghurtfeelingsbyaninflectionofvoice."Andmistressislookinghardatye,asmuchastosay,’Singatonce,JosephPoorgrass.’"

           "Faith,sosheis;well,Imustsufferit!Justeyemyfeatures,andseeifthetell-talebloodoverheatsmemuch,neighbours?"

           "No,yerblushesbequitereasonable,"saidCoggan.

           "Ialwaystriestokeepmycoloursfromrisingwhenabeauty’seyesgetfixedonme,"saidJoseph,differently;"butifsobe’tiswilledtheydo,theymust."

           "Now,Joseph,yoursong,please,"saidBathsheba,fromthewindow.

           "Well,really,ma’am,"hereplied,inayieldingtone,"Idon’tknowwhattosay.Itwouldbeapoorplainballetofmyowncomposure."

           "Hear,hear!"saidthesupper-party.

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