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 on
the part of Mr Mantalini to reach the door, preparatory to straightway
committing violence upon himself, that gentleman was prevailed upon,
with difficulty, to promise that he wouldn't be a body. This great point
attained, Madame Mantalini argued the question of the allowance, and Mr
Mantalini did the same, taking occasion to show that he could live with
uncommon satisfaction upon bread and water, and go clad in rags, but
that he could not support existence with the additional burden of
being mistrusted by the object of his most devoted and disinterested
affection. This brought fresh tears into Madame Mantalini's eyes, which
having just begun to open to some few of the demerits of Mr Mantalini,
were only open a very little way, and could be easily closed again. The
result was, that without quite giving up the allowance question, Madame
Mantalini, postponed its further consideration; and Ralph saw, clearly
enough, that Mr Mantalini had gained a fresh lease of his easy life, and
that, for some time longer at all events, his degradation and downfall
were postponed.

'But it will come soon enough,' thought Ralph; 'all love--bah! that I
should use the cant of boys and girls--is fleeting enough; though that
which has its sole root in the admiration of a whiskered face like that
of yonder baboon, perhaps lasts the longest, as it originates in the
greater blindness and is fed by vanity. Meantime the fools bring grist
to my mill, so let them live out their day, and the longer it is, the
better.'

These agreeable reflections occurred to Ralph Nickleby, as sundry small
caresses and endearments, supposed to be unseen, were exchanged between
the objects of his thoughts.

'If you