The Lion's Skin. Rafael Sabatini

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CHAPTER III. THE WITNESS

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      At last the page was found again by Mr. Jenkins. Having found it, he hesitated still a moment, then cleared his throat, and in the manner of one hurling himself forward upon a desperate venture, he began to read.

      “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God,” he read, and on in a nasal, whining voice, which not only was the very voice you would have expected from such a man, but in accordance, too, with sound clerical convention. The bridal pair stood before him, the groom with a slight flush on his cheeks and a bright glitter in his black eyes, which were not nice to see; the bride with bowed head and bosom heaving as in response to inward tumult.

      The cleric came to the end of his exordium, paused a moment, and whether because he gathered confidence, whether because he realized the impressive character of the fresh matter upon which he entered, he proceeded now in a firmer, more sonorous voice: “I require and charge you both as ye will answer on the dreadful day of judgment.”

      “Ye've forgot something,” Mr. Caryll interrupted blandly.

      His lordship swung round with an impatient gesture and an impatient snort; the lady, too, looked up suddenly, whilst Mr. Jenkins seemed to fall into an utter panic.

      “Wha—what?” he stammered. “What have I forgot?”

      “To read the directions, I think.”

      His lordship scowled darkly upon Mr. Caryll, who heeded him not at all, but watched the lady sideways.

      Mr. Jenkins turned first scarlet, then paler than he had been before, and bent his eyes to the book to read in a slightly puzzled voice the italicized words above the period he had embarked upon. “And also speaking unto the persons that shall be married, he shall say:” he read, and looked up inquiry, his faintly-colored, prominent eyes endeavoring to sustain Mr. Caryll's steady glance, but failing miserably.

      “'Tis farther back,” Mr. Caryll informed him in answer to that mute question; and as the fellow moistened his thumb to turn back the pages, Mr. Caryll saved him the trouble. “It says, I think, that the man should be on your right hand and the woman on your left. Ye seem to have reversed matters, Mr. Jenkins. But perhaps ye're left-handed.”

      “Stab me!” was Mr. Jenkins' most uncanonical comment. “I vow I am over-flustered. Your lordship is so impatient with me. This gentleman is right. But that I was so flustered. Will you not change places with his lordship, ma'am?”

      They changed places, after the viscount had thanked Mr. Caryll shortly and cursed the parson with circumstance and fervor. It was well done on his lordship's part, but the lady did not seem convinced by it. Her face looked whiter, and her eyes had an alarmed, half-suspicious expression.

      “We must begin again,” said Mr. Jenkins. And he began again.

      Mr. Caryll listened and watched, and he began to enjoy himself exceedingly. He had not reckoned upon so rich an entertainment when he had consented to come down to witness this odd ceremony. His sense of humor conquered every other consideration, and the circumstance that Lord Rotherby was his brother, if remembered at all, served but to add a spice to the situation.

      Out of sheer deviltry he waited until Mr. Jenkins had labored for a second time through the opening periods. Again he allowed him to get as far as “I charge and require you both-,” before again he interrupted him.

      “There is something else ye've forgot,” said he in that sweet, quiet voice of his.

      This was too much for Rotherby. “Damn you!” he swore, turning a livid face upon Mr. Caryll, and failed to observe that at the sound of that harsh oath and at the sight of his furious face, the lady recoiled from him, the suspicion lately in her face turning first to conviction and then to absolute horror.

      “I do not think you are civil,” said Mr. Caryll critically. “It was in your interests that I spoke.”

      “Then I'll thank you, in my interests, to hold your tongue!” his lordship stormed.

      “In that case,” said Mr. Caryll, “I must still speak in the interests of the lady. Since you've desired me to be a witness, I'll do my duty by you both and see you properly wed.”

      “Now, what the devil may you mean by that?” demanded his lordship, betraying himself more and more at every word.

      Mr. Jenkins, in a spasm of terror, sought to pour oil upon these waters. “My lord,” he bleated, teeth and eyeballs protruding from his pallid face. “My lord! Perhaps the gentleman is right. Perhaps—Perhaps—” He gulped, and turned to Mr. Caryll. “What is't ye think we have forgot now?” he asked.

      “The time of day,” Mr. Caryll replied, and watched the puzzled look that came into both their faces.

      “Do ye deal in riddles with us?” quoth his lordship. “What have we to do with the time of day?”

      “Best ask the parson,” suggested Mr. Caryll.

      Rotherby swung round again to Jenkins. Jenkins spread his hands in mute bewilderment and distress. Mr. Caryll laughed silently.

      “I'll not be married! I'll not be married!”

      It was the lady who spoke, and those odd words were the first that Mr. Caryll heard from her lips. They made an excellent impression upon him, bearing СКАЧАТЬ