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86 A SHABBY GENTEEL STORY
her, regulated his little property, found that he had money enough
to pay his washerwoman ; and so, having disposed of his worldly
concerns, Mr. Fitch also jumped into bed, and speedily fell into a
deep sleep. Brandon could hear him snoring all night, and did not
feel a bit the more comfortable because his antagonist took matters
so unconcernedly.
Indeed, our poor painter had no guilty thoughts in his breast,
nor any particular revenge against Brandon, now that the first
pangs of mortified vanity were over. But, with all his vagaries,
he was a man of spirit ; and after what had passed in the morning,
the treason that had been done him, and the insults heaped upon
him, he felt that the duel was irrevocable. He had a misty notion,
imbibed somewhere, that it was the part of a gentleman's duty to
fight duels, and had long been seeking for an opportunity. " Suppose
I do die," said he, " what's the odds ? Caroline doesn't care for
me. Dr. Wackerbart's boys won't have their drawing-lesson next
Wednesday ; and no more will be said of poor Andrea."
And now for the garret. Caroline was wrapped up in her own
woes, poor little soul ! and in the arms of the faithful Becky cried
herself to sleep. But the slow hours passed on ; and the tide,
which had been out, now came in ; and the lamps waxed fainter
and fainter ; and the watchman cried six o'clock ; and the sun arose
and gilded the minarets of Margate ; and Becky got up and scoured
the steps, and the kitchen, and made ready the lodgers' breakfasts ;
and at half-past eight there came a thundering rap at the door,
and two gentlemen, one with a mahogany case under his arm, asked
for Mr. Brandon, and were shown up to his room by the astonished
Becky, who was bidden by Mr. Brandon to get breakfast for three.
The thundering rap awakened Mr. Fitch, who rose and dressed
himself in his best clothes, gave a twist of the curling-tongs to his
beard, and conducted himself throughout with perfect coolness. Nine
o'clock struck, and he wrapped his cloak round him, and put under
his cloak that pair of foils which we have said he possessed, and
did not know in the least how to use. However, he had heard his
camarades d'atelier, at Paris and Rome, say that they were the
best weapons for duelling ; and so forth he issued.
Becky was in the passage as he passed down ; she was always
scrubbing there. " Becky," said Fitch, in a hollow voice, " here is
a letter ; if I should not return in half-an-hour, give it to Miss
Gann, and promise on your honour that she shall not have it sooner."
Becky promised. She thought the painter was at some of his mad
tricks. He went out of the door saluting her gravely.
But he went only a few steps and came back again. " Becky,"
said he, " you—you've always been a good girl to me, and here's