CHAPTER XX

We are now going to enter upon a new scene of events.------

----Leave we then the breeches in the taylor’s hands, with my father standing over him with his cane, reading him as he sat at work a lecture upon the _latus clavus_, and pointing to the precise part of the waistband, where he was determined to have it sewed on.----

Leave we my mother--(truest of all the _Pococurantes_ of her sex!)--careless about it, as about everything else in the world which concerned her; --that is, --indifferent whether it was done this way or that, --provided it was but done at all.----

Leave we _Slop_ likewise to the full profits of all my dishonours.------

Leave we poor _Le Fever_ to recover, and get home from _Marseilles_ as he can. ----And last of all, --because the hardest of all----

Let us leave, if possible, _myself_: ----But ’tis impossible, --I must go along with you to the end of the work.

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