Page 1096 - bleak-house

Mr. Bucket merely shakes the finger at her.
‘Ah, my God, you are an unhappy idiot!’ cries mademoi-
selle with a toss of her head and a laugh. ‘Leave me to pass
downstairs, great pig.’ With a stamp of her foot and a men-
ace.
‘Now, mademoiselle,’ says Mr. Bucket in a cool deter-
mined way, ‘you go and sit down upon that sofy.’
‘I will not sit down upon nothing,’ she replies with a
shower of nods.
‘Now, mademoiselle,’ repeats Mr. Bucket, making no
demonstration except with the finger, ‘you sit down upon
that sofy.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I take you into custody on a charge of murder,
and you don’t need to be told it. Now, I want to be polite to
one of your sex and a foreigner if I can. If I can’t, I must be
rough, and there’s rougher ones outside. What I am to be
depends on you. So I recommend you, as a friend, afore an-
other half a blessed moment has passed over your head, to
go and sit down upon that sofy.’
Mademoiselle complies, saying in a concentrated voice
while that something in her cheek beats fast and hard, ‘You
are a devil.’
‘Now, you see,’ Mr. Bucket proceeds approvingly, ‘you’re
comfortable and conducting yourself as I should expect a
foreign young woman of your sense to do. So I’ll give you a
piece of advice, and it’s this, don’t you talk too much. You’re
not expected to say anything here, and you can’t keep too
quiet a tongue in your head. In short, the less you PARLAY,

1096 Bleak House