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I have sometimes pleased myselfe in imitating that licenciousnesse or wanton humour of our youths, in wearing of their garments; as carelessly to let their cloaks hang downe over one shoulder; to weare their cloakes scarfe or bawdrikewise, and their stockings loose hanging about their legs.
Mr. Wilde preferred to know nothing of these young men and their antecedents. He knew nothing about Wood; he knew nothing about Parker; he knew nothing about Scarfe, nothing about Conway, and not much about Taylor. The truth was Taylor was the procurer for Mr.
"Yes." "Was there ever any impropriety between you?" "No." "When did you first meet Ernest Scarfe?" "In December, 1893." "Who introduced him to you?" "Taylor." "Scarfe was out of work, was he not?" "He may have been." "Did Taylor bring Scarfe to you at St. James's Place?" "Yes." "Did you give Scarfe a cigarette case?" "Yes: it was my custom to give cigarette cases to people I liked."
"For the people," declared old Viola, sternly. "We are all for the people in the end." "Yes," muttered old Viola, savagely. "And meantime they fight for you. Blind. Esclavos!" At that moment young Scarfe of the railway staff emerged from the door of the part reserved for the Signori Inglesi.
Is it true?" "The young patricians," Decoud began suddenly in his precise English, "have indeed been dancing before they started off to the war with the Great Pompey." Young Scarfe stared, astounded. "You haven't met before," Mrs. Gould intervened. "Mr. Decoud Mr. Scarfe." "Ah! But we are not going to Pharsalia," protested Don Jose, with nervous haste, also in English.
He followed me, shoving and cursing his way among them, swinging his axe. My hair stood on end and I felt rather critical of their much-vaunted Prussian discipline. Another endeavoured to bayonet Charlie Scarfe. The officer at last stopped them both.
It would give him the pull over a lot of chaps all through life, he asserted. "Therefore down with Montero! Mrs. Gould." His artless grin disappeared slowly before the unanimous gravity of the faces turned upon him from the carriage; only that "old chap," Don Jose, presenting a motionless, waxy profile, stared straight on as if deaf. Scarfe did not know the Avellanos very well.
"They have half an hour's start of me," he thought, as he drew up behind a rock, that the house might not descry him; "if I ride up in full view, I hurry the mischief. Philippa will welcome me with the embers of my title. She must not suspect that the matter is so urgent. Nobody shall know that I am coming. For many reasons I had better try the private road below the Scarfe."
Scarfe shoved in his oar here, grousing in good British-soldier fashion: "I don't call it very good treatment when they steal the overcoats from wounded men." "Who did that?" He was all steel, and I saw a change come over the officers of the staff. "The chaps that took us prisoners," said Scarfe. "What regiment were they?"
The latter blushed and hastily extracted a wallet, from which he handed Scarfe a two-mark piece, equal to one and ten pence, or forty-four cents. He gave us his name before leaving, and my recollection is that it was something like Eitelbert.
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