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Updated: June 16, 2025
THE first tidings of Beauclerc came in a letter from him to the general, written immediately after his arrival at Paris. But it was plain that it must have been written before Lady Cecilia's letter, forwarded by Madame de St. Cymon, could have reached him.
‘The curtain! The curtain!’ gasped Mrs. Captain Waters, pointing to the window, before which some chintz hangings were closely drawn. ‘But I have done nothing wrong,’ said the hesitating Cymon. ‘The curtain!’ reiterated the frantic lady: ‘you will be murdered.’ This last appeal to his feelings was irresistible. The dismayed Cymon concealed himself behind the curtain with pantomimic suddenness.
Cymon expressed his perfect concurrence in a statement which it was impossible to controvert. ‘If I had not been—’ resumed Belinda; and there she stopped. ‘What—what?’ said Mr. Cymon earnestly. ‘Do not torture me. What would you say?’ ‘If I had not been’—continued Mrs.
Cymon, disappointed, had returned to London; Lady Cecilia had seen Lord Beltravers, and heard the news from him. There could be no doubt of the truth of the intelligence, and scarcely did Helen herself rejoice in it with more sincerity than did Miss Clarendon, and Helen loved her for her candour as well as for her sympathy. Time passed on; week after week rolled away.
Cymon Tuggs looked at everybody; and finding that everybody was looking at him, appeared to feel some temporary difficulty in disposing of his eyesight. ‘So exactly the air of the marquis,’ said the military gentleman. ‘Quite extraordinary!’ sighed the military gentleman’s lady. ‘You don’t know the marquis, sir?’ inquired the military gentleman. Mr. Cymon Tuggs stammered a negative.
"To me, individually, she was the one sole friend that ever I could regard as entirely fulfilling the offices of an honest friendship. She had known me from infancy; when I was in my first year of life, she, an orphan and a great heiress, was in her tenth or eleventh." "What Simon? Simon Peter?" O, no, you irreverend boy, no Simon at all with an S, but Cymon with a C, Dryden's Cymon,
There was an impressive solemnity in the tone of this address, and in the air with which the romantic Cymon, at its conclusion, rang the bell, and demanded a flat candlestick, which effectually forbade a reply. He stalked dramatically to bed, and the Tuggses went to bed too, half an hour afterwards, in a state of considerable mystification and perplexity.
‘Want a porter, sir?’ inquired a dozen men in smock-frocks. ‘Now, my dear!’ said Captain Waters. ‘Good-bye!’ said Mrs. Captain Waters—‘good-bye, Mr. Cymon!’ and with a pressure of the hand which threw the amiable young man’s nerves into a state of considerable derangement, Mrs. Captain Waters disappeared among the crowd.
Cymon, and I had to tell her of my failure with Lady Emily and Mrs. Holdernesse. I softened their refusal as much as I could, but I might have spared myself the trouble, for she only retorted by something about English prudery.
But take Cymon and Daphne from their flocks and herds and pastoral valleys in their old age, and see what senile bores and quavering imbeciles you would find them. Yes, I have no doubt you found your Dorking aunt a nuisance. Take off your wet overcoat and put it out of the room, and then ring for more hot water. You'll find that cognac very fine. Won't you have a cigar?"
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