Мхи старої садиби
Mrs. Bullfrog
Likemanymen’swives,thegoodladyservedherhusbandasasteppingstone.Ihadscrambledoutofthecoachandwasinstinctivelysettlingmycravat,whensomebodybrushedroughlybyme,andIheardasmartthwackuponthecoachman’sear.
"Takethat,youvillain!"criedastrange,hoarsevoice."Youhaveruinedme,youblackguard!IshallneverbethewomanIhavebeen!"
Andthencameasecondthwack,aimedatthedriver’sotherear;butwhichmissedit,andhithimonthenose,causingaterribleeffusionofblood.Now,whoorwhatfearfulapparitionwasinflictingthispunishmentonthepoorfellowremainedanimpenetrablemysterytome.Theblowsweregivenbyapersonofgrislyaspect,withaheadalmostbald,andsunkencheeks,apparentlyofthefemininegender,thoughhardlytobeclassedinthegentlersex.Therebeingnoteethtomodulatethevoice,ithadamumbledfierceness,notpassionate,butstern,whichabsolutelymademequiverlikecalf’s-footjelly.Whocouldthephantombe?Themostawfulcircumstanceoftheaffairisyettobetold:forthisogre,orwhateveritwas,hadaridinghabitlikeMrs.Bullfrog’s,andalsoagreensilkcalashdanglingdownherbackbythestrings.InmyterrorandturmoilofmindIcouldimaginenothinglessthanthattheOldNick,atthemomentofouroverturn,hadannihilatedmywifeandjumpedintoherpetticoats.Thisideaseemedthemostprobable,sinceIcouldnowhereperceiveMrs.Bullfrogalive,nor,thoughIlookedverysharplyaboutthecoach,couldIdetectanytracesofthatbelovedwoman’sdeadbody.
