Then I athk my dearie,
'What will you drink, sweet?'
But all the answer that she makes:
'My head aches fit to split.'
'I ain't a-athking you
What your ache may be,
But I am a-athking you
What your drink may be:
Will it be beer, or for wine shall I call,
Or for violet wine, or nothing else at all?'"
And all would have turned out well, if suddenly Little White
Manka, in only her chemise and in white lace drawers, had not
burst into the cabinet. Some merchant, who the night before had
arranged a paradisaical night, was carousing with her, and the
ill-fated Benedictine, which always acted upon the girl with the
rapidity of dynamite, had brought her into the usual quarrelsome
condition. She was no longer "Little Manka" and "Little White
Manka," but she was "Manka the Scandaliste." Having run into the
cabinet, she suddenly, from unexpectedness, fell down on the
floor, and, lying on her back, burst into such sincere laughter
that all the rest burst out laughing as well. Yes. But this
laughter was not prolonged ... Manka suddenly sat up on the floor
and began to shout:
"Hurrah! new wenches have joined our place!"
This was altogether an unexpected thing.
Pages:
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286