And yet Madame Mantalini was
not weeping upon the body, but was scolding violently upon her chair;
and all this amidst a clamour of tongues perfectly deafening, and which
really appeared to have driven the unfortunate footman to the utmost
verge of distraction.
'What is the matter here?' said Ralph, pressing forward.
At this inquiry, the clamour was increased twenty-fold, and an
astounding string of such shrill contradictions as 'He's poisoned
himself'--'He hasn't'--'Send for a doctor'--'Don't'--'He's dying'--'He
isn't, he's only pretending'--with various other cries, poured forth
with bewildering volubility, until Madame Mantalini was seen to address
herself to Ralph, when female curiosity to know what she would say,
prevailed, and, as if by general consent, a dead silence, unbroken by a
single whisper, instantaneously succeeded.
'Mr Nickleby,' said Madame Mantalini; 'by what chance you came here, I
don't know.'
Here a gurgling voice was heard to ejaculate, as part of the wanderings
of a sick man, the words 'Demnition sweetness!' but nobody heeded
them except the footman, who, being startled to hear such awful tones
proceeding, as it were, from between his very fingers, dropped his
master's head upon the floor with a pretty loud crash, and then, without
an effort to lift it up, gazed upon the bystanders, as if he had done
something rather clever than otherwise.
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