The Salamanca Corpus: Yeoman Fleetwood (1900 ... - Gredos

The Salamanca Corpus: Yeoman Fleetwood (1900)
Scarcely knowing where to betake himself on quitting the Gifford's house, he fell to
wandering aimlessly about the Steine, abstractedly scanning the groups of fashionable
folk who, though it was still early in the afternoon, were endeavouring to kill time by
lounging near the libraries or lolling on the settles. It was perchance some latent hope of
coming across Rachel which led him to linger there, for certainly human nature as there
represented was little to his taste. It would have been difficult to say which were the
most obnoxious to him — the men, pomatumed and perfumed, with their ringlets and
their waists; or the women with their strange and, in his eyes, immodest attire, their bold
eyes, their loud voices. Now and then fragments of talk reached him; he frowned at
some; he positively shuddered at others — was it actually from the lips of yonder fine
lady that had proceeded the oath which had just greeted his ears? Why, there it came
again! Simon, who was as God-fearing as he was manly, as reverent of mind as he was
clean of heart, felt his honest gorge rise within him as he looked and listened. Good
Heavens! to think that. Rachel —his Rachel —was in the very heart of this fashionable
Brighton world!
Almost at the moment that this thought pierced his mind he became conscious of a
certain stir and excitement in his neighbourhood Three or four gentlemen and one lady
were pacing slowly towards him; the lady was Rachel. As Simon stood stock still,
gazing fixedly at the party, he observed that the portly man in the centre of the group
was responding by gracious salutes and airy waves of the hand to the respectful
greetings of all who passed him; and on nearer approach the yeoman recognised the
features of the personage who had been pointed out to him on the previous evening as
the Prince of Wales. He walked on Rachel's right, and on her left was Beau Brummel.
The rest of the party was composed
[348]
of satellites of the Prince, unknown to Simon. The face of the Heir to the Throne was
much flushed, and he was talking excitedly across Rachel to Brummel, who was smiling
somewhat ironically, and interposing an occasional quiet word. Rachel was looking
from one to the other; now and then her laugh rang out —the laugh which had been
wont to sound like music in Simon's ears, but which now he could scarcely bear to hear.