"To put him," said Madame Mantalini, looking at Ralph, and prudently abstaining from the slightest glance at her husband, lest his many graces should induce her to falter in her resolution, "to put him upon a fixed allowance; and I say that if he has a hundred and twenty pounds a-year for his clothes and pocket-money, he may consider himself a very fortunate man."
Mr. Mantalini waited with much decorum to hear the amount of the proposed stipend, but when it reached his ears, he cast his hat and cane upon the floor, and drawing out his pocket-handkerchief, gave vent to his feelings in a dismal moan.
"Demnition!" cried Mr. Mantalini, suddenly skipping out of his chair, and as suddenly skipping into it again, to the great discomposure of his lady's nerves. "But no. It is a demd horrid dream. It is not reality. No."
Comforting himself with this assurance, Mr. Mantalini closed his eyes and waited patiently till such time as he should wake up.
"A very judicious arrangement," observed Ralph with a sneer, "if your husband will keep within it, ma'am—as no doubt he will."
"Demmit!" exclaimed Mr. Mantalini, opening his eyes at the sound of Ralph's voice, "it is a horrid reality. She is sitting there before me. There is the graceful outline of her form; it cannot be mistaken—there is nothing like it. The two countesses had no outlines at all, and the dowager's was a demd outline. Why is she so excruciatingly beautiful that I cannot be angry with her even now?"
"You have brought it upon yourself, Alfred," returned Madame Mantalini—still reproachfully, but in a softened tone.
"I am a demd villain!" cried Mr. Mantalini, smiting himself on the head. "I will fill my pockets with change for a sovereign in half-pence, and drown myself in the Thames; but I will not be angry with her even then, for I will put a note in the twopenny-post as I go along, to tell her where the body is. She will be a lovely widow. I shall be a body. Some handsome women will cry; she will laugh demnebly."
"Alfred, you cruel, cruel, creature," said Madame Mantalini, sobbing at the dreadful picture.
"She calls me cruel—me—me—who for her sake will become a demd damp, moist, unpleasant body!" exclaimed Mr. Mantalini.
"You know it almost breaks my heart, even to hear you talk of such a thing," replied Madame Mantalini.
"Can I live to be mistrusted?" cried her husband. "Have I cut my heart into a demd extraordinary number of little pieces, and given them all away one after another to the same little engrossing demnition captivater, and can I live to be suspected by her! Demmit, no I can't."
"Ask Mr. Nickleby whether the sum I have mentioned is not a proper one," reasoned Madame Mantalini.
"I don't want any sum," replied her disconsolate husband; "I shall require no demd allowance—I will be a body."
On this repetition of Mr. Mantalini's fatal threat, Madame Mantalini wrung her hands and implored the interference of Ralph Nickleby; and after a great quantity of tears and talking, and several attempts
