Follows the Fortunes of Miss Nickleby.

　　It was with a heavy heart, and many sad forebodings which noeffort could banish, that Kate Nickleby, on the morningappointed for the commencement of her engagement withMadame Mantalini, left the city when its clocks yet wanted aquarter of an hour of eight, and threaded her way alone, amid thenoise and bustle of the streets, towards the west end of London.

　　At this early hour many sickly girls, whose business, like that ofthe poor worm, is to produce, with patient toil, the finery thatbedecks the thoughtless and luxurious, traverse our streets,making towards the scene of their daily labour, and catching, as ifby stealth, in their hurried walk, the only gasp of wholesome airand glimpse of sunlight which cheer their monotonous existenceduring the long train of hours that make a working day. As shedrew nigh to the more fashionable quarter of the town, Katemarked many of this class as they passed by, hurrying like herselfto their painful occupation, and saw, in their unhealthy looks andfeeble gait, but too clear an evidence that her misgivings were notwholly groundless.

　　She arrived at Madame Mantalini’s some minutes before theappointed hour, and after walking a few times up and down, in thehope that some other female might arrive and spare her theembarrassment of stating her business to the servant, knockedtimidly at the door: which, after some delay, was opened by thefootman, who had been putting on his striped jacket as he came upstairs, and was now intent on fastening his apron.

　　‘Is Madame Mantalini in?’ faltered Kate.

　　‘Not often out at this time, miss,’ replied the man in a tonewhich rendered “Miss,” something more offensive than “My dear.”

　　‘Can I see her?’ asked Kate.

　　‘Eh?’ replied the man, holding the door in his hand, andhonouring the inquirer with a stare and a broad grin, ‘Lord, no.’

　　‘I came by her own appointment,’ said Kate; ‘I am—I am—to beemployed here.’

　　‘Oh! you should have rung the worker’s bell,’ said the footman,touching the handle of one in the door-post. ‘Let me see, though, Iforgot—Miss Nickleby, is it?’

　　‘Yes,’ replied Kate.

　　‘You’re to walk upstairs then, please,’ said the man. ‘MadameMantalini wants to see you—this way—take care of these things onthe floor.’

　　Cautioning her, in these terms, not to trip over a heterogeneouslitter of pastry-cook’s trays, lamps, waiters full of glasses, and pilesof rout seats which were strewn about the hall, plainly bespeakinga late party on the previous night, the man led the way to thesecond story, and ushered Kate into a back-room, communicatingby folding-doors with the apartment in which she had first seenthe mistress of the establishment.

　　‘If you’ll wait here a minute,’ said the man, ‘I’ll tell herpresently.’ Having made this promise with much affability, heretired and left Kate alone.

　　There was not much to amuse in the room; of which the mostattractive feature was, a half-length portrait in oil, of Mr Mantalini,whom the artist had depicted scratching his head in an easy manner, and thus displaying to advantage a diamond ring, the giftof Madame Mantalini before her marriage. There was, however,the sound of voices in conversation in the next room; and as theconversation was loud and the partition thin, Kate could not helpdiscovering that they belonged to Mr and Mrs Mantalini.

　　‘If you will be odiously, demnebly, outrigeously jealous, mysoul,’ said Mr Mantalini, ‘you will be very miserable—horridmiserable—demnition miserable.’ And then, there was a sound asthough Mr Mantalini were sipping his coffee.

　　‘I am miserable,’ returned Madame Mantalini, evidentlypouting.

　　‘Then you are an ungrateful, unworthy, demd unthankful littlefairy,’ said Mr Mantalini.

　　‘I am not,’ returned Madame, with a sob.

　　‘Do not put itself out of humour,’ said Mr Mantalini, breakingan egg. ‘It is a pretty, bewitching little demd countenance, and itshould not be out of humour, for it spoils its loveliness, and makesit cross and gloomy like a frightful, naughty, demd hobgoblin.’

　　‘I am not to be brought round in that way, always,’ rejoinedMadame, sulkily.

　　‘It shall be brought round in any way it likes best, and notbrought round at all if it likes that better,’ retorted Mr Mantalini,with his egg-spoon in his mouth.

　　‘It’s very easy to talk,’ said Mrs Mantalini.

　　‘Not so easy when one is eating a demnition egg,’ replied MrMantalini; ‘for the yolk runs down the waistcoat, and yolk of eggdoes not match any waistcoat but a yellow waistcoat, demmit.’

　　‘You were flirting with her during the whole night,’ saidMadame Mantalini, apparently desirous to lead the conversation back to the point from which it had strayed.

　　‘No, no, my life.’

　　‘You were,’ said Madame; ‘I had my eye upon you all the time.’

　　‘Bless the little winking twinkling eye; was it on me all thetime!’ cried Mantalini, in a sort of lazy rapture. ‘Oh, demmit!’

　　‘And I say once more,’ resumed Madame, ‘that you ought not towaltz with anybody but your own wife; and I will not bear it,Mantalini, if I take poison first.’

　　‘She will not take poison and have horrid pains, will she?’ saidMantalini; who, by the altered sound of his voice, seemed to havemoved his chair, and taken up his position nearer to his wife. ‘Shewill not take poison, because she had a demd fine husband whomight have married two countesses and a dowager—’

　　‘Two countesses,’ interposed Madame. ‘You told me onebefore!’

　　‘Two!’ cried Mantalini. ‘Two demd fine women, real countessesand splendid fortunes, demmit.’

　　‘And why didn’t you?’ asked Madame, playfully.

　　‘Why didn’t I!’ replied her husband. ‘Had I not seen, at amorning concert, the demdest little fascinator in all the world, andwhile that little fascinator is my wife, may not all the countessesand dowagers in England be—’

　　Mr Mantalini did not finish the sentence, but he gave MadameMantalini a very loud kiss, which Madame Mantalini returned;after which, there seemed to be some more kissing mixed up withthe progress of the breakfast.

　　‘And what about the cash, my existence’s jewel?’ saidMantalini, when these endearments ceased. ‘How much have wein hand?’

　　 ‘Very little indeed,’ replied Madame.

　　‘We must have some more,’ said Mantalini; ‘we must have somediscount out of old Nickleby to carry on the war with, demmit.’

　　‘You can’t want any more just now,’ said Madame coaxingly.

　　‘My life and soul,’ returned her husband, ‘there is a horse forsale at Scrubbs’s, which it would be a sin and a crime to lose—going, my senses’ joy, for nothing.’

　　‘For nothing,’ cried Madame, ‘I am glad of that.’

　　‘For actually nothing,’ replied Mantalini. ‘A hundred guineasdown will buy him; mane, and crest, and legs, and tail, all of thedemdest beauty. I will ride him in the park before the verychariots of the rejected countesses. The demd old dowager willfaint with grief and rage; the other two will say “He is married, hehas made away with himself, it is a demd thing, it is all up!” Theywill hate each other demnebly, and wish you dead and buried. Ha!

　　ha! Demmit.’

　　Madame Mantalini’s prudence, if she had any, was not proofagainst these triumphal pictures; after a little jingling of keys, sheobserved that she would see what her desk contained, and risingfor that purpose, opened the folding-door, and walked into theroom where Kate was seated.

　　‘Dear me, child!’ exclaimed Madame Mantalini, recoiling insurprise. ‘How came you here?’

　　‘Child!’ cried Mantalini, hurrying in. ‘How came—eh!—oh—demmit, how d’ye do?’

　　‘I have been waiting, here some time, ma’am,’ said Kate,addressing Madame Mantalini. ‘The servant must have forgottento let you know that I was here, I think.’

　　‘You really must see to that man,’ said Madame, turning to her husband. ‘He forgets everything.’

　　‘I will twist his demd nose off his countenance for leaving sucha very pretty creature all alone by herself,’ said her husband.

　　‘Mantalini,’ cried Madame, ‘you forget yourself.’

　　‘I don’t forget you, my soul, and never shall, and never can,’

　　said Mantalini, kissing his wife’s hand, and grimacing aside, toMiss Nickleby, who turned away.

　　Appeased by this compliment, the lady of the business tooksome papers from her desk which she handed over to MrMantalini, who received them with great delight. She thenrequested Kate to follow her, and after several feints on the part ofMr Mantalini to attract the young lady’s attention, they went away:

　　leaving that gentleman extended at full length on the sofa, with hisheels in the air and a newspaper in his hand.

　　Madame Mantalini led the way down a flight of stairs, andthrough a passage, to a large room at the back of the premiseswhere were a number of young women employed in sewing,cutting out, making up, altering, and various other processesknown only to those who are cunning in the arts of millinery anddressmaking. It was a close room with a skylight, and as dull andquiet as a room need be.

　　On Madame Mantalini calling aloud for Miss Knag, a short,bustling, over-dressed female, full of importance, presentedherself, and all the young ladies suspending their operations forthe moment, whispered to each other sundry criticisms upon themake and texture of Miss Nickleby’s dress, her complexion, cast offeatures, and personal appearance, with as much good breeding ascould have been displayed by the very best society in a crowdedball-room.

　　 ‘Oh, Miss Knag,’ said Madame Mantalini, ‘this is the youngperson I spoke to you about.’

　　Miss Knag bestowed a reverential smile upon MadameMantalini, which she dexterously transformed into a gracious onefor Kate, and said that certainly, although it was a great deal oftrouble to have young people who were wholly unused to thebusiness, still, she was sure the young person would try to do herbest—impressed with which conviction she (Miss Knag) felt aninterest in her, already.

　　‘I think that, for the present at all events, it will be better forMiss Nickleby to come into the show-room with you, and trythings on for people,’ said Madame Mantalini. ‘She will not be ablefor the present to be of much use in any other way; and herappearance will—’

　　‘Suit very well with mine, Madame Mantalini,’ interrupted MissKnag. ‘So it will; and to be sure I might have known that youwould not be long............