CHAPTER XLVIII
PRESSURE
"Do you suppose I came here to amuse myself?" asked
Malletort, passing his arm under his companion's so as to
turn him round on the gravel walk within a yard of Alice's
hiding-place. "Do you think it is agreeable to reside in a pot-*house
where eggs and bacon form the ne plus ultra of cookery,
and if a man cannot drink sour claret he must be satisfied
with muddy ale? Every one of us has to sacrifice his own
identity, has to consecrate himself entirely to such an effort
as ours. Look at me, Florian, and ask yourself, was I born
for such a life as this, to vegetate by the wayside in the
dullest province of the dullest country in Europe—my only
society, that awful landlady, my only excitement, the daily
fear of a blunder from that puzzle-headed brigand who calls
himself Captain Bold, and whom I can hang at any
moment I please, or I would not trust him five yards from
my side. If I should be discovered, and unable to get out of
the way in time, why it might go very hard with me, but
even against this contingency I have provided. You would
find all the directions you need drawn out in our own cipher,
and consigned to my respectable hostess. I have left the
money for her weekly account sealed up and addressed to
Mrs. Dodge on my chimneypiece, also the day and hour of
your visit, as we have agreed. If we both fall into difficulties,
which is most improbable, the packet will be burned,
for I can trust the woman, I believe, and with so much the
more confidence, that I doubt if any one on this side the
Channel has the key to our cipher. So far, you observe,
I have provided for all contingencies; and now, my good
