University of Virginia Library

28. CHAPTER XXVIII.
ENTER SHYLOCK, AND HIS SHADOW.

The door opened, and two men made their appearance. We
say men: it would be sacrificing too much to courtesy to call
them gentlemen; for neither in their dress, features, nor expression,
was there any thing whatsoever remotely entitling
them to that distinction. He who came first was that worthy
who had acted Shylock on the opening night, at the
theatre near the capitol; and the reader may possibly recollect
Mr. Manager Hallam's criticism of his performance,
delivered in the presence of the worthy himself, on the next
morning, at the Raleigh. His present state was not materially
an improvement upon his condition that night, and
having dined not very long before, his spirits were naturally
in an elevated and generous condition. When Mr. Pugsby
had emptied his pint of rum or his bottle of port—a delicacy
which he did not usually indulge in, however—he felt at peace
with all the world, and ready to embrace the whole of mankind.
His companion was a lean, cadaverous gentleman, whose
favorite characters were “Shallow,” “Slender” the apothecary
in “Romeo and Juliet,”—he had been assisting Mr.
Pugsby in emptying his last bottle.

Kate beheld the entrance of these worthies with great
alarm; though her womanly little air of dignity did not desert
her. Perhaps it was rather distaste than alarm which
she felt, child as she was, for certainly no contrast could have
been imagined less to the advantage of the stage worthies.
Kate, clad in her rich and tasteful little costume of silk and
velvet—with her bright eyes and rosy face, looked like a
flower, a picture, something beautiful, rich and rare, to be
approached with reverence, and regarded with love and admiration:—she
seemed out of place in the rough apartment,
as some masterpiece of Titian, framed in gold, would look
hung up in a wide garret, with a ceiling of dirty rafters.
She had the beauty and tenderness of childhood: purity and
gentleness enveloped her like a cloud. None of these things
appertained to the worthies who now entered, inasmuch as

they were extremely rough and common specimens of humanity,
with bloated faces, and unsteady gait, and sleepy-looking
eyes, which rolled, and winked, and leered, as authentic
tradition relates of the ancient worthy Silenus.

Shylock hesitated for a moment on the threshold, and
exhibited a species of inane surprise, at finding a child, instead
of his brother-comedian, Mr. Effingham, in the apartment.

“Hum!” said Shylock, by way of signifying that he
was about to speak. This expressive monosyllable was
echoed by Shallow, who, to save himself the trouble of
thinking, generally repeated or coincided in, the observations
of his friend.

“Stand and unfold thyself,” continued Shylock, striking
an attitude, and facetiously pretending to consider Kate a
ghost.

“Unfold—yes, unfold,” echoed Shallow, stretching out
his cadaverous hand as his friend did.

“Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damned? thou
comest in such a questionable shape, I'll speak to thee!”
continued Shylock, “hey? come, speak!”

Kate felt as if she should sink into the floor, and was so
frightened that she could scarcely restrain her tears or command
her voice.

“Come, come, pretty damsel!” exclaimed Shylock, with
some impatience, and descending into prose, “come, why
don't you answer? Who are you? Why are you here,
instead of that jolly minion of the moon, that lad of metal,
hight Childe Effingham?”

“Oh, sir!” said Kate, with a trembling voice, and retreating
as the leering tragedian approached her, “Oh, sir,
I am—Mr. Effingham—I mean, he is just gone, sir.”

“That is no answer.”

“No answer,” echoed Shallow.

“A subterfuge.”

“Perfect.”

“And subterfuges are a deadly sin,” said Shylock, whose
words unconsciously flowed into a metrical shape.

“An awful sin,” said Shallow.

“So now perpend, young damsel,” continued Shylock,
approaching the child, who shrank back, “either thou diest

presently, or do'st relate to me the marvel strange, why thou
art here—all armed in complete—no, thou hast no steel!
Speak! what art thou? And if thou do'st conceal the least
small thing—” Shylock drew out the knife which he was
accustomed to whet upon his shoe, when Antonio was to be
sacrificed, and flourished it with deadly meaning. Kate
shrank further back and turned pale.

“Oh, sir, you frighten me!” she said.

“I'll eat thee whole ere the leviathan hath swum a
league—”

Kate fell into a chair.

“Come,” said Shylock, putting up his knife, “I'll be
merciful, if I am a Hebrew vile, and thou, fair lass, a Christian.”

“We'll be merciful,” said Shallow.

“Therefore, unfold—unfold, I say!” continued Shylock,
“art thou base, common, and popular; or, high and mighty,
like Prince Hal?—discourse. Whence art thou?”

Kate murmured, with a throbbing heart: “From the
Hall, sir.”

“What is thy name?”

“Catherine, sir!”

“Well, Catherine, listen: thou shalt go below, and bid
the tapster draw a measure of rum, which thou shalt bring
to us. We are noble gentlemen, come hither to see Prince
Hal, that noble bully. Do'st thou understand?”

“Oh, sir, I cannot! I don't know—”

“Do'st thou reply?”

“Oh, sir, don't come near me, I do not like you!”

“Not like me? Well, I will be calm! Go bid them
draw the ale; do'st hear, thou varlet vile?”

Kate's indignation began to conquer her fear, and, child
as she was, in the midst of such persons, her face flushed
with anger, at the word vile. “I can't go, sir,” she said.

“Cannot! sayest thou? Why, `cannot'?”

“I do not know any body here, sir,” she replied;
“please let me pass out.”

“Never! thou shalt pass over my dead body, rather.”

“And mine,” said Shallow.

“Oh, I must pass!” cried Kate, endeavoring to leave
the room.

“Stand back! ill met by moonlight, proud Titania!
But thou shalt not go hence.”

“I must, sir!” said Kate, endeavoring to pass again, and
nearly crying from fear and indignation.

“By heaven, thou diest!” And uttering these words,
Shylock moved with unsteady gait to shut the door. But
Kate was too quick for the worthy, and ran through, brushing
against him as she passed. Shylock made a grasp at
her, and caught the ribbon of her little hat, tearing the
covering from her head. The next moment he would have
reached her and brought her back by main force, but just
as she was about to fall upon her knees, in despair, the door
opposite opened, and a young woman, evidently attracted by
the noise, appeared upon the threshold.

“What is this?” she said.

“Oh, ma'am! that man won't let me go!” cried Kate,
“he has frightened me nearly to death. Oh, don't let him
take me from you!” And clinging to the dress of Beatrice,
she shrunk from the infuriated Shylock. Beatrice, with a
single word and a look, closed the door in the face of that
worthy, and she and the child were alone together.