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In
the
lower
apartment
you
see
a
man
with
a
long
slip
of
paper
presenting
it
to
another
,
who
shakes
his
fists
,
threatens
and
vows
that
it
is
monstrous
.
"
Ostler
,
bring
round
my
gig
,
"
cries
another
at
the
door
.
He
chucks
Chambermaid
(
the
Right
Honourable
Lord
Southdown
)
under
the
chin
;
she
seems
to
deplore
his
absence
,
as
Calypso
did
that
of
that
other
eminent
traveller
Ulysses
.
Boots
(
the
Honourable
G.
Ringwood
)
passes
with
a
wooden
box
,
containing
silver
flagons
,
and
cries
"
Pots
"
with
such
exquisite
humour
and
naturalness
that
the
whole
house
rings
with
applause
,
and
a
bouquet
is
thrown
to
him
.
Crack
,
crack
,
crack
,
go
the
whips
.
Landlord
,
chambermaid
,
waiter
rush
to
the
door
,
but
just
as
some
distinguished
guest
is
arriving
,
the
curtains
close
,
and
the
invisible
theatrical
manager
cries
out
"
Second
syllable
.
"
"
I
think
it
must
be
'
Hotel
,
'
"
says
Captain
Grigg
of
the
Life
Guards
;
there
is
a
general
laugh
at
the
Captain
's
cleverness
.
He
is
not
very
far
from
the
mark
.
While
the
third
syllable
is
in
preparation
,
the
band
begins
a
nautical
medley
--
"
All
in
the
Downs
,
"
"
Cease
Rude
Boreas
,
"
"
Rule
Britannia
,
"
"
In
the
Bay
of
Biscay
O
!
"
--
some
maritime
event
is
about
to
take
place
.
A
ben
is
heard
ringing
as
the
curtain
draws
aside
.
"
Now
,
gents
,
for
the
shore
!
"
a
voice
exclaims
.
People
take
leave
of
each
other
.
They
point
anxiously
as
if
towards
the
clouds
,
which
are
represented
by
a
dark
curtain
,
and
they
nod
their
heads
in
fear
.
Lady
Squeams
(
the
Right
Honourable
Lord
Southdown
)
,
her
lap-dog
,
her
bags
,
reticules
,
and
husband
sit
down
,
and
cling
hold
of
some
ropes
.
It
is
evidently
a
ship
.
The
Captain
(
Colonel
Crawley
,
C.B.
)
,
with
a
cocked
hat
and
a
telescope
,
comes
in
,
holding
his
hat
on
his
head
,
and
looks
out
;
his
coat
tails
fly
about
as
if
in
the
wind
.
When
he
leaves
go
of
his
hat
to
use
his
telescope
,
his
hat
flies
off
,
with
immense
applause
.
It
is
blowing
fresh
.
The
music
rises
and
whistles
louder
and
louder
;
the
mariners
go
across
the
stage
staggering
,
as
if
the
ship
was
in
severe
motion
.
The
Steward
(
the
Honourable
G.
Ringwood
)
passes
reeling
by
,
holding
six
basins
.
He
puts
one
rapidly
by
Lord
Squeams
--
Lady
Squeams
,
giving
a
pinch
to
her
dog
,
which
begins
to
howl
piteously
,
puts
her
pocket-handkerchief
to
her
face
,
and
rushes
away
as
for
the
cabin
.
The
music
rises
up
to
the
wildest
pitch
of
stormy
excitement
,
and
the
third
syllable
is
concluded
.
There
was
a
little
ballet
,
"
Le
Rossignol
,
"
in
which
Montessu
and
Noblet
used
to
be
famous
in
those
days
,
and
which
Mr.
Wagg
transferred
to
the
English
stage
as
an
opera
,
putting
his
verse
,
of
which
he
was
a
skilful
writer
,
to
the
pretty
airs
of
the
ballet
.
It
was
dressed
in
old
French
costume
,
and
little
Lord
Southdown
now
appeared
admirably
attired
in
the
disguise
of
an
old
woman
hobbling
about
the
stage
with
a
faultless
crooked
stick
.
Trills
of
melody
were
heard
behind
the
scenes
,
and
gurgling
from
a
sweet
pasteboard
cottage
covered
with
roses
and
trellis
work
.
"
Philomele
,
Philomele
,
"
cries
the
old
woman
,
and
Philomele
comes
out
.
More
applause
--
it
is
Mrs.
Rawdon
Crawley
in
powder
and
patches
,
the
most
ravissante
little
Marquise
in
the
world
.
She
comes
in
laughing
,
humming
,
and
frisks
about
the
stage
with
all
the
innocence
of
theatrical
youth
--
she
makes
a
curtsey
.
Mamma
says
"
Why
,
child
,
you
are
always
laughing
and
singing
,
"
and
away
she
goes
,
with
--
