["[Event happened on 2024-01-01 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Between London and Chatham\n\nOn quitting Brighton, our friend George, as became a person of rank and\nfashion travelling in a barouche with four horses, drove in state to a\nfine hotel in Cavendish Square, where a suite of splendid rooms, and a\ntable magnificently furnished with plate and surrounded by a half-dozen\nof black and silent waiters, was ready to receive the young gentleman\nand his bride. George did the honours of the place with a princely air\nto Jos and Dobbin; and Amelia, for the first time, and with exceeding\nshyness and timidity, presided at what George called her own table. George pooh-poohed the wine and bullied the waiters royally, and Jos\ngobbled the turtle with immense satisfaction. Dobbin helped him to it;\nfor the lady of the house, before whom the tureen was placed, was so\nignorant of the contents, that she was going to help Mr. Sedley without\nbestowing upon him either calipash or calipee. The splendour of the entertainment, and the apartments in which it was\ngiven, alarmed Mr. Dobbin, who remonstrated after dinner, when Jos was\nasleep in the great chair. But in vain he cried out against the\nenormity of turtle and champagne that was fit for an archbishop. \"I've\nalways been accustomed to travel like a gentleman,\" George said, \"and,\ndamme, my wife shall travel like a lady. As long as there's a shot in\nthe locker, she shall want for nothing,\" said the generous fellow,\nquite pleased with himself for his magnificence of spirit. Nor did\nDobbin try and convince him that Amelia's happiness was not centred in\nturtle-soup. A while after dinner, Amelia timidly expressed a wish to go and see her\nmamma, at Fulham: which permission George granted her with some\ngrumbling. And she tripped away to her enormous bedroom, in the centre\nof which stood the enormous funereal bed, \"that the Emperor\nHalixander's sister slep in when the allied sufferings was here,\" and\nput on her little bonnet and shawl with the utmost eagerness and\npleasure. George was still drinking claret when she returned to the\ndining-room, and made no signs of moving. \"Ar'n't you coming with me,\ndearest?\" she asked him. No; the \"dearest\" had \"business\" that night. His man should get her a coach and go with her. And the coach being at\nthe door of the hotel, Amelia made George a little disappointed curtsey\nafter looking vainly into his face once or twice, and went sadly down\nthe great staircase, Captain Dobbin after, who handed her into the\nvehicle, and saw it drive away to its destination. The very valet was\nashamed of mentioning the address to the hackney-coachman before the\nhotel waiters, and promised to instruct him when they got further on. Dobbin walked home to his old quarters and the Slaughters', thinking\nvery likely that it would be delightful to be in that hackney-coach,\nalong with Mrs. Osborne. George was evidently of quite a different\ntaste; for when he had taken wine enough, he went off to half-price at\nthe play, to see Mr. Kean perform in Shylock. Captain Osborne was a\ngreat lover of the drama, and had himself performed high-comedy\ncharacters with great distinction in several garrison theatrical\nentertainments. Jos slept on until long after dark, when he woke up\nwith a start at the motions of his servant, who was removing and\nemptying the decanters on the table; and the hackney-coach stand was\nagain put into requisition for a carriage to convey this stout hero to\nhis lodgings and bed. Mrs. Sedley, you may be sure, clasped her daughter to her heart with\nall maternal eagerness and affection, running out of the door as the\ncarriage drew up before the little garden-gate, to welcome the weeping,\ntrembling, young bride. Old Mr. Clapp, who was in his shirt-sleeves,\ntrimming the garden-plot, shrank back alarmed. The Irish servant-lass\nrushed up from the kitchen and smiled a \"God bless you.\" Amelia could\nhardly walk along the flags and up the steps into the parlour. How the floodgates were opened, and mother and daughter wept, when they\nwere together embracing each other in this sanctuary, may readily be\nimagined by every reader who possesses the least sentimental turn. When don't ladies weep? At what occasion of joy, sorrow, or other\nbusiness of life, and, after such an event as a marriage, mother and\ndaughter were surely at liberty to give way to a sensibility which is\nas tender as it is refreshing. About a question of marriage I have seen\nwomen who hate each other kiss and cry together quite fondly. How much\nmore do they feel when they love! Good mothers are married over again\nat their daughters' weddings: and as for subsequent events, who does\nnot know how ultra-maternal grandmothers are?--in fact a woman, until\nshe is a grandmother, does not often really know what to be a mother\nis. Let us respect Amelia and her mamma whispering and whimpering and\nlaughing and crying in the parlour and the twilight. Old Mr. Sedley\ndid. HE had not divined who was in the carriage when it drove up. He\nhad not flown out to meet his daughter, though he kissed her very\nwarmly when she entered the room (where he was occupied, as usual, with\nhis papers and tapes and statements of accounts), and after sitting\nwith the mother and daughter for a short time, he very wisely left the\nlittle apartment in their possession. George's valet was looking on in a very supercilious manner at Mr.\nClapp in his shirt-sleeves, watering his rose-bushes. He took off his\nhat, however, with much condescension to Mr. Sedley, who asked news\nabout his son-in-law, and about Jos's carriage, and whether his horses\nhad been down to Brighton, and about that infernal traitor Bonaparty,\nand the war; until the Irish maid-servant came with a plate and a\nbottle of wine, from which the old gentleman insisted upon helping the\nvalet. He gave him a half-guinea too, which the servant pocketed with\na mixture of wonder and contempt. \"To the health of your master and\nmistress, Trotter,\" Mr. Sedley said, \"and here's something to drink\nyour health when you get home, Trotter.\" There were but nine days past since Amelia had left that little cottage\nand home--and yet how far off the time seemed since she had bidden it\nfarewell. What a gulf lay between her and that past life. She could\nlook back to it from her present standing-place, and contemplate,\nalmost as another being, the young unmarried girl absorbed in her love,\nhaving no eyes but for one special object, receiving parental affection\nif not ungratefully, at least indifferently, and as if it were her\ndue--her whole heart and thoughts bent on the accomplishment of one\ndesire. The review of those days, so lately gone yet so far away,\ntouched her with shame; and the aspect of the kind parents filled her\nwith tender remorse. Was the prize gained--the heaven of life--and the\nwinner still doubtful and unsatisfied? As his hero and heroine pass\nthe matrimonial barrier, the novelist generally drops the curtain, as\nif the drama were over then:  the doubts and struggles of life ended:\nas if, once landed in the marriage country, all were green and pleasant\nthere:  and wife and husband had nothing to do but to link each other's\narms together, and wander gently downwards towards old age in happy and\nperfect fruition. But our little Amelia was just on the bank of her\nnew country, and was already looking anxiously back towards the sad\nfriendly figures waving farewell to her across the stream, from the\nother distant shore. In honour of the young bride's arrival, her mother thought it necessary\nto prepare I don't know what festive entertainment, and after the first\nebullition of talk, took leave of Mrs. George Osborne for a while, and\ndived down to the lower regions of the house to a sort of\nkitchen-parlour (occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Clapp, and in the evening,\nwhen her dishes were washed and her curl-papers removed, by Miss\nFlannigan, the Irish servant), there to take measures for the preparing\nof a magnificent ornamented tea. All people have their ways of\nexpressing kindness, and it seemed to Mrs. Sedley that a muffin and a\nquantity of orange marmalade spread out in a little cut-glass saucer\nwould be peculiarly agreeable refreshments to Amelia in her most\ninteresting situation. While these delicacies were being transacted below, Amelia, leaving the\ndrawing-room, walked upstairs and found herself, she scarce knew how,\nin the little room which she had occupied before her marriage, and in\nthat very chair in which she had passed so many bitter hours.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-01, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-03 The user is reading a book]\n<User> She sank\nback in its arms as if it were an old friend; and fell to thinking over\nthe past week, and the life beyond it. Already to be looking sadly and\nvaguely back: always to be pining for something which, when obtained,\nbrought doubt and sadness rather than pleasure; here was the lot of our\npoor little creature and harmless lost wanderer in the great struggling\ncrowds of Vanity Fair. Here she sate, and recalled to herself fondly that image of George to\nwhich she had knelt before marriage. Did she own to herself how\ndifferent the real man was from that superb young hero whom she had\nworshipped? It requires many, many years--and a man must be very bad\nindeed--before a woman's pride and vanity will let her own to such a\nconfession. Then Rebecca's twinkling green eyes and baleful smile\nlighted upon her, and filled her with dismay. And so she sate for\nawhile indulging in her usual mood of selfish brooding, in that very\nlistless melancholy attitude in which the honest maid-servant had found\nher, on the day when she brought up the letter in which George renewed\nhis offer of marriage. She looked at the little white bed, which had been hers a few days\nbefore, and thought she would like to sleep in it that night, and wake,\nas formerly, with her mother smiling over her in the morning: Then she\nthought with terror of the great funereal damask pavilion in the vast\nand dingy state bedroom, which was awaiting her at the grand hotel in\nCavendish Square. Dear little white bed! how many a long night had she\nwept on its pillow! How she had despaired and hoped to die there; and\nnow were not all her wishes accomplished, and the lover of whom she had\ndespaired her own for ever? Kind mother! how patiently and tenderly\nshe had watched round that bed! She went and knelt down by the bedside;\nand there this wounded and timorous, but gentle and loving soul, sought\nfor consolation, where as yet, it must be owned, our little girl had\nbut seldom looked for it. Love had been her faith hitherto; and the\nsad, bleeding disappointed heart began to feel the want of another\nconsoler. Have we a right to repeat or to overhear her prayers? These, brother,\nare secrets, and out of the domain of Vanity Fair, in which our story\nlies. But this may be said, that when the tea was finally announced, our\nyoung lady came downstairs a great deal more cheerful; that she did not\ndespond, or deplore her fate, or think about George's coldness, or\nRebecca's eyes, as she had been wont to do of late. She went\ndownstairs, and kissed her father and mother, and talked to the old\ngentleman, and made him more merry than he had been for many a day. She\nsate down at the piano which Dobbin had bought for her, and sang over\nall her father's favourite old songs. She pronounced the tea to be\nexcellent, and praised the exquisite taste in which the marmalade was\narranged in the saucers. And in determining to make everybody else\nhappy, she found herself so; and was sound asleep in the great funereal\npavilion, and only woke up with a smile when George arrived from the\ntheatre. For the next day, George had more important \"business\" to transact than\nthat which took him to see Mr. Kean in Shylock. Immediately on his\narrival in London he had written off to his father's solicitors,\nsignifying his royal pleasure that an interview should take place\nbetween them on the morrow. His hotel bill, losses at billiards and\ncards to Captain Crawley had almost drained the young man's purse,\nwhich wanted replenishing before he set out on his travels, and he had\nno resource but to infringe upon the two thousand pounds which the\nattorneys were commissioned to pay over to him. He had a perfect\nbelief in his own mind that his father would relent before very long. How could any parent be obdurate for a length of time against such a\nparagon as he was? If his mere past and personal merits did not\nsucceed in mollifying his father, George determined that he would\ndistinguish himself so prodigiously in the ensuing campaign that the\nold gentleman must give in to him. And if not? Bah! the world was\nbefore him. His luck might change at cards, and there was a deal of\nspending in two thousand pounds. So he sent off Amelia once more in a carriage to her mamma, with strict\norders and carte blanche to the two ladies to purchase everything\nrequisite for a lady of Mrs. George Osborne's fashion, who was going on\na foreign tour. They had but one day to complete the outfit, and it\nmay be imagined that their business therefore occupied them pretty\nfully. In a carriage once more, bustling about from milliner to\nlinen-draper, escorted back to the carriage by obsequious shopmen or\npolite owners, Mrs. Sedley was herself again almost, and sincerely\nhappy for the first time since their misfortunes. Nor was Mrs. Amelia\nat all above the pleasure of shopping, and bargaining, and seeing and\nbuying pretty things. (Would any man, the most philosophic, give\ntwopence for a woman who was?) She gave herself a little treat,\nobedient to her husband's orders, and purchased a quantity of lady's\ngear, showing a great deal of taste and elegant discernment, as all the\nshopfolks said. And about the war that was ensuing, Mrs. Osborne was not much alarmed;\nBonaparty was to be crushed almost without a struggle. Margate packets\nwere sailing every day, filled with men of fashion and ladies of note,\non their way to Brussels and Ghent. People were going not so much to a\nwar as to a fashionable tour. The newspapers laughed the wretched\nupstart and swindler to scorn. Such a Corsican wretch as that\nwithstand the armies of Europe and the genius of the immortal\nWellington! Amelia held him in utter contempt; for it needs not to be\nsaid that this soft and gentle creature took her opinions from those\npeople who surrounded her, such fidelity being much too humble-minded\nto think for itself. Well, in a word, she and her mother performed a\ngreat day's shopping, and she acquitted herself with considerable\nliveliness and credit on this her first appearance in the genteel world\nof London. George meanwhile, with his hat on one side, his elbows squared, and his\nswaggering martial air, made for Bedford Row, and stalked into the\nattorney's offices as if he was lord of every pale-faced clerk who was\nscribbling there. He ordered somebody to inform Mr. Higgs that Captain\nOsborne was waiting, in a fierce and patronizing way, as if the pekin\nof an attorney, who had thrice his brains, fifty times his money, and a\nthousand times his experience, was a wretched underling who should\ninstantly leave all his business in life to attend on the Captain's\npleasure. He did not see the sneer of contempt which passed all round\nthe room, from the first clerk to the articled gents, from the articled\ngents to the ragged writers and white-faced runners, in clothes too\ntight for them, as he sate there tapping his boot with his cane, and\nthinking what a parcel of miserable poor devils these were. The\nmiserable poor devils knew all about his affairs. They talked about\nthem over their pints of beer at their public-house clubs to other\nclerks of a night. Ye gods, what do not attorneys and attorneys' clerks\nknow in London! Nothing is hidden from their inquisition, and their\nfamilies mutely rule our city. Perhaps George expected, when he entered Mr. Higgs's apartment, to find\nthat gentleman commissioned to give him some message of compromise or\nconciliation from his father; perhaps his haughty and cold demeanour\nwas adopted as a sign of his spirit and resolution: but if so, his\nfierceness was met by a chilling coolness and indifference on the\nattorney's part, that rendered swaggering absurd. He pretended to be\nwriting at a paper, when the Captain entered. \"Pray, sit down, sir,\"\nsaid he, \"and I will attend to your little affair in a moment. Mr.\nPoe, get the release papers, if you please\"; and then he fell to\nwriting again. Poe having produced those papers, his chief calculated the amount of\ntwo thousand pounds stock at the rate of the day; and asked Captain\nOsborne whether he would take the sum in a cheque upon the bankers, or\nwhether he should direct the latter to purchase stock to that amount. \"One of the late Mrs. Osborne's trustees is out of town,\" he said\nindifferently, \"but my client wishes to meet your wishes, and have done\nwith the business as quick as possible.\" \"Give me a cheque, sir,\" said the Captain very surlily.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-03, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-04 The user is reading a book]\n<User> \"Damn the\nshillings and halfpence, sir,\" he added, as the lawyer was making out\nthe amount of the draft; and, flattering himself that by this stroke of\nmagnanimity he had put the old quiz to the blush, he stalked out of the\noffice with the paper in his pocket. \"That chap will be in gaol in two years,\" Mr. Higgs said to Mr. Poe. \"Won't O. come round, sir, don't you think?\" \"Won't the monument come round,\" Mr. Higgs replied. \"He's going it pretty fast,\" said the clerk. \"He's only married a\nweek, and I saw him and some other military chaps handing Mrs.\nHighflyer to her carriage after the play.\" And then another case was\ncalled, and Mr. George Osborne thenceforth dismissed from these worthy\ngentlemen's memory. The draft was upon our friends Hulker and Bullock of Lombard Street, to\nwhose house, still thinking he was doing business, George bent his way,\nand from whom he received his money. Frederick Bullock, Esq., whose\nyellow face was over a ledger, at which sate a demure clerk, happened\nto be in the banking-room when George entered. His yellow face turned\nto a more deadly colour when he saw the Captain, and he slunk back\nguiltily into the inmost parlour. George was too busy gloating over\nthe money (for he had never had such a sum before), to mark the\ncountenance or flight of the cadaverous suitor of his sister. Fred Bullock told old Osborne of his son's appearance and conduct. \"He\ncame in as bold as brass,\" said Frederick. \"He has drawn out every\nshilling. How long will a few hundred pounds last such a chap as\nthat?\" Osborne swore with a great oath that he little cared when or how\nsoon he spent it. Fred dined every day in Russell Square now. But\naltogether, George was highly pleased with his day's business. All his\nown baggage and outfit was put into a state of speedy preparation, and\nhe paid Amelia's purchases with cheques on his agents, and with the\nsplendour of a lord. In Which Amelia Joins Her Regiment\n\nWhen Jos's fine carriage drove up to the inn door at Chatham, the first\nface which Amelia recognized was the friendly countenance of Captain\nDobbin, who had been pacing the street for an hour past in expectation\nof his friends' arrival. The Captain, with shells on his frockcoat,\nand a crimson sash and sabre, presented a military appearance, which\nmade Jos quite proud to be able to claim such an acquaintance, and the\nstout civilian hailed him with a cordiality very different from the\nreception which Jos vouchsafed to his friend in Brighton and Bond\nStreet. Along with the Captain was Ensign Stubble; who, as the barouche neared\nthe inn, burst out with an exclamation of \"By Jove! what a pretty\ngirl\"; highly applauding Osborne's choice. Indeed, Amelia dressed in\nher wedding-pelisse and pink ribbons, with a flush in her face,\noccasioned by rapid travel through the open air, looked so fresh and\npretty, as fully to justify the Ensign's compliment. Dobbin liked him\nfor making it. As he stepped forward to help the lady out of the\ncarriage, Stubble saw what a pretty little hand she gave him, and what\na sweet pretty little foot came tripping down the step. He blushed\nprofusely, and made the very best bow of which he was capable; to which\nAmelia, seeing the number of the the regiment embroidered on the\nEnsign's cap, replied with a blushing smile, and a curtsey on her part;\nwhich finished the young Ensign on the spot. Dobbin took most kindly to\nMr. Stubble from that day, and encouraged him to talk about Amelia in\ntheir private walks, and at each other's quarters. It became the\nfashion, indeed, among all the honest young fellows of the --th to\nadore and admire Mrs. Osborne. Her simple artless behaviour, and\nmodest kindness of demeanour, won all their unsophisticated hearts; all\nwhich simplicity and sweetness are quite impossible to describe in\nprint. But who has not beheld these among women, and recognised the\npresence of all sorts of qualities in them, even though they say no\nmore to you than that they are engaged to dance the next quadrille, or\nthat it is very hot weather? George, always the champion of his\nregiment, rose immensely in the opinion of the youth of the corps, by\nhis gallantry in marrying this portionless young creature, and by his\nchoice of such a pretty kind partner. In the sitting-room which was awaiting the travellers, Amelia, to her\nsurprise, found a letter addressed to Mrs. Captain Osborne. It was a\ntriangular billet, on pink paper, and sealed with a dove and an olive\nbranch, and a profusion of light blue sealing wax, and it was written\nin a very large, though undecided female hand. \"It's Peggy O'Dowd's fist,\" said George, laughing. \"I know it by the\nkisses on the seal.\" And in fact, it was a note from Mrs. Major O'Dowd,\nrequesting the pleasure of Mrs. Osborne's company that very evening to\na small friendly party. \"You must go,\" George said. \"You will make\nacquaintance with the regiment there. O'Dowd goes in command of the\nregiment, and Peggy goes in command.\" But they had not been for many minutes in the enjoyment of Mrs.\nO'Dowd's letter, when the door was flung open, and a stout jolly lady,\nin a riding-habit, followed by a couple of officers of Ours, entered\nthe room. \"Sure, I couldn't stop till tay-time. Present me, Garge, my dear\nfellow, to your lady. Madam, I'm deloighted to see ye; and to present\nto you me husband, Meejor O'Dowd\"; and with this, the jolly lady in the\nriding-habit grasped Amelia's hand very warmly, and the latter knew at\nonce that the lady was before her whom her husband had so often laughed\nat. \"You've often heard of me from that husband of yours,\" said the\nlady, with great vivacity. \"You've often heard of her,\" echoed her husband, the Major. Amelia answered, smiling, \"that she had.\" \"And small good he's told you of me,\" Mrs. O'Dowd replied; adding that\n\"George was a wicked divvle.\" \"That I'll go bail for,\" said the Major, trying to look knowing, at\nwhich George laughed; and Mrs. O'Dowd, with a tap of her whip, told the\nMajor to be quiet; and then requested to be presented in form to Mrs.\nCaptain Osborne. \"This, my dear,\" said George with great gravity, \"is my very good,\nkind, and excellent friend, Auralia Margaretta, otherwise called Peggy.\" \"Faith, you're right,\" interposed the Major. \"Otherwise called Peggy, lady of Major Michael O'Dowd, of our regiment,\nand daughter of Fitzjurld Ber'sford de Burgo Malony of Glenmalony,\nCounty Kildare.\" \"And Muryan Squeer, Doblin,\" said the lady with calm superiority. \"And Muryan Square, sure enough,\" the Major whispered. \"'Twas there ye coorted me, Meejor dear,\" the lady said; and the Major\nassented to this as to every other proposition which was made generally\nin company. Major O'Dowd, who had served his sovereign in every quarter of the\nworld, and had paid for every step in his profession by some more than\nequivalent act of daring and gallantry, was the most modest, silent,\nsheep-faced and meek of little men, and as obedient to his wife as if\nhe had been her tay-boy. At the mess-table he sat silently, and drank\na great deal. When full of liquor, he reeled silently home. When he\nspoke, it was to agree with everybody on every conceivable point; and\nhe passed through life in perfect ease and good-humour. The hottest\nsuns of India never heated his temper; and the Walcheren ague never\nshook it. He walked up to a battery with just as much indifference as\nto a dinner-table; had dined on horse-flesh and turtle with equal\nrelish and appetite; and had an old mother, Mrs. O'Dowd of O'Dowdstown\nindeed, whom he had never disobeyed but when he ran away and enlisted,\nand when he persisted in marrying that odious Peggy Malony. Peggy was one of five sisters, and eleven children of the noble house\nof Glenmalony; but her husband, though her own cousin, was of the\nmother's side, and so had not the inestimable advantage of being allied\nto the Malonys, whom she believed to be the most famous family in the\nworld.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-04, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-06 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Having tried nine seasons at Dublin and two at Bath and\nCheltenham, and not finding a partner for life, Miss Malony ordered her\ncousin Mick to marry her when she was about thirty-three years of age;\nand the honest fellow obeying, carried her off to the West Indies, to\npreside over the ladies of the --th regiment, into which he had just\nexchanged. Before Mrs. O'Dowd was half an hour in Amelia's (or indeed in anybody\nelse's) company, this amiable lady told all her birth and pedigree to\nher new friend. \"My dear,\" said she, good-naturedly, \"it was my\nintention that Garge should be a brother of my own, and my sister\nGlorvina would have suited him entirely. But as bygones are bygones,\nand he was engaged to yourself, why, I'm determined to take you as a\nsister instead, and to look upon you as such, and to love you as one of\nthe family. Faith, you've got such a nice good-natured face and way\nwidg you, that I'm sure we'll agree; and that you'll be an addition to\nour family anyway.\" \"'Deed and she will,\" said O'Dowd, with an approving air, and Amelia\nfelt herself not a little amused and grateful to be thus suddenly\nintroduced to so large a party of relations. \"We're all good fellows here,\" the Major's lady continued. \"There's not\na regiment in the service where you'll find a more united society nor a\nmore agreeable mess-room. There's no quarrelling, bickering,\nslandthering, nor small talk amongst us. We all love each other.\" \"Especially Mrs. Magenis,\" said George, laughing. \"Mrs. Captain Magenis and me has made up, though her treatment of me\nwould bring me gray hairs with sorrow to the grave.\" \"And you with such a beautiful front of black, Peggy, my dear,\" the\nMajor cried. \"Hould your tongue, Mick, you booby. Them husbands are always in the\nway, Mrs. Osborne, my dear; and as for my Mick, I often tell him he\nshould never open his mouth but to give the word of command, or to put\nmeat and drink into it. I'll tell you about the regiment, and warn you\nwhen we're alone. Introduce me to your brother now; sure he's a mighty\nfine man, and reminds me of me cousin, Dan Malony (Malony of\nBallymalony, my dear, you know who mar'ied Ophalia Scully, of\nOystherstown, own cousin to Lord Poldoody). Mr. Sedley, sir, I'm\ndeloighted to be made known te ye. I suppose you'll dine at the mess\nto-day. (Mind that divvle of a docther, Mick, and whatever ye du, keep\nyourself sober for me party this evening.)\" \"It's the 150th gives us a farewell dinner, my love,\" interposed the\nMajor, \"but we'll easy get a card for Mr. Sedley.\" \"Run Simple (Ensign Simple, of Ours, my dear Amelia. I forgot to\nintrojuice him to ye). Run in a hurry, with Mrs. Major O'Dowd's\ncompliments to Colonel Tavish, and Captain Osborne has brought his\nbrothernlaw down, and will bring him to the 150th mess at five o'clock\nsharp--when you and I, my dear, will take a snack here, if you like.\" Before Mrs. O'Dowd's speech was concluded, the young Ensign was\ntrotting downstairs on his commission. \"Obedience is the soul of the army. We will go to our duty while Mrs.\nO'Dowd will stay and enlighten you, Emmy,\" Captain Osborne said; and\nthe two gentlemen, taking each a wing of the Major, walked out with\nthat officer, grinning at each other over his head. And, now having her new friend to herself, the impetuous Mrs. O'Dowd\nproceeded to pour out such a quantity of information as no poor little\nwoman's memory could ever tax itself to bear. She told Amelia a\nthousand particulars relative to the very numerous family of which the\namazed young lady found herself a member. \"Mrs. Heavytop, the\nColonel's wife, died in Jamaica of the yellow faver and a broken heart\ncomboined, for the horrud old Colonel, with a head as bald as a\ncannon-ball, was making sheep's eyes at a half-caste girl there. Mrs.\nMagenis, though without education, was a good woman, but she had the\ndivvle's tongue, and would cheat her own mother at whist. Mrs. Captain\nKirk must turn up her lobster eyes forsooth at the idea of an honest\nround game (wherein me fawther, as pious a man as ever went to church,\nme uncle Dane Malony, and our cousin the Bishop, took a hand at loo, or\nwhist, every night of their lives). Nayther of 'em's goin' with the\nregiment this time,\" Mrs. O'Dowd added. \"Fanny Magenis stops with her\nmother, who sells small coal and potatoes, most likely, in\nIslington-town, hard by London, though she's always bragging of her\nfather's ships, and pointing them out to us as they go up the river:\nand Mrs. Kirk and her children will stop here in Bethesda Place, to be\nnigh to her favourite preacher, Dr. Ramshorn. Mrs. Bunny's in an\ninteresting situation--faith, and she always is, then--and has given\nthe Lieutenant seven already. And Ensign Posky's wife, who joined two\nmonths before you, my dear, has quarl'd with Tom Posky a score of\ntimes, till you can hear'm all over the bar'ck (they say they're come\nto broken pleets, and Tom never accounted for his black oi), and she'll\ngo back to her mother, who keeps a ladies' siminary at Richmond--bad\nluck to her for running away from it! Where did ye get your finishing,\nmy dear? I had moin, and no expince spared, at Madame Flanahan's, at\nIlyssus Grove, Booterstown, near Dublin, wid a Marchioness to teach us\nthe true Parisian pronunciation, and a retired Mejor-General of the\nFrench service to put us through the exercise.\" Of this incongruous family our astonished Amelia found herself all of a\nsudden a member:  with Mrs. O'Dowd as an elder sister. She was\npresented to her other female relations at tea-time, on whom, as she\nwas quiet, good-natured, and not too handsome, she made rather an\nagreeable impression until the arrival of the gentlemen from the mess\nof the 150th, who all admired her so, that her sisters began, of\ncourse, to find fault with her. \"I hope Osborne has sown his wild oats,\" said Mrs. Magenis to Mrs.\nBunny. \"If a reformed rake makes a good husband, sure it's she will\nhave the fine chance with Garge,\" Mrs. O'Dowd remarked to Posky, who\nhad lost her position as bride in the regiment, and was quite angry\nwith the usurper. And as for Mrs. Kirk:  that disciple of Dr. Ramshorn\nput one or two leading professional questions to Amelia, to see whether\nshe was awakened, whether she was a professing Christian and so forth,\nand finding from the simplicity of Mrs. Osborne's replies that she was\nyet in utter darkness, put into her hands three little penny books with\npictures, viz., the \"Howling Wilderness,\" the \"Washerwoman of\nWandsworth Common,\" and the \"British Soldier's best Bayonet,\" which,\nbent upon awakening her before she slept, Mrs. Kirk begged Amelia to\nread that night ere she went to bed. But all the men, like good fellows as they were, rallied round their\ncomrade's pretty wife, and paid her their court with soldierly\ngallantry. She had a little triumph, which flushed her spirits and\nmade her eyes sparkle. George was proud of her popularity, and pleased\nwith the manner (which was very gay and graceful, though naive and a\nlittle timid) with which she received the gentlemen's attentions, and\nanswered their compliments. And he in his uniform--how much handsomer\nhe was than any man in the room! She felt that he was affectionately\nwatching her, and glowed with pleasure at his kindness. \"I will make\nall his friends welcome,\" she resolved in her heart. \"I will love all\nas I love him. I will always try and be gay and good-humoured and make\nhis home happy.\" The regiment indeed adopted her with acclamation. The Captains\napproved, the Lieutenants applauded, the Ensigns admired. Old Cutler,\nthe Doctor, made one or two jokes, which, being professional, need not\nbe repeated; and Cackle, the Assistant M.D.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-06, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-07 The user is reading a book]\n<User> of Edinburgh, condescended\nto examine her upon leeterature, and tried her with his three best\nFrench quotations. Young Stubble went about from man to man\nwhispering, \"Jove, isn't she a pretty gal?\" and never took his eyes off\nher except when the negus came in. As for Captain Dobbin, he never so much as spoke to her during the\nwhole evening. But he and Captain Porter of the 150th took home Jos to\nthe hotel, who was in a very maudlin state, and had told his tiger-hunt\nstory with great effect, both at the mess-table and at the soiree, to\nMrs. O'Dowd in her turban and bird of paradise. Having put the\nCollector into the hands of his servant, Dobbin loitered about, smoking\nhis cigar before the inn door. George had meanwhile very carefully\nshawled his wife, and brought her away from Mrs. O'Dowd's after a\ngeneral handshaking from the young officers, who accompanied her to the\nfly, and cheered that vehicle as it drove off. So Amelia gave Dobbin\nher little hand as she got out of the carriage, and rebuked him\nsmilingly for not having taken any notice of her all night. The Captain continued that deleterious amusement of smoking, long after\nthe inn and the street were gone to bed. He watched the lights vanish\nfrom George's sitting-room windows, and shine out in the bedroom close\nat hand. It was almost morning when he returned to his own quarters. He could hear the cheering from the ships in the river, where the\ntransports were already taking in their cargoes preparatory to dropping\ndown the Thames. In Which Amelia Invades the Low Countries\n\nThe regiment with its officers was to be transported in ships provided\nby His Majesty's government for the occasion:  and in two days after\nthe festive assembly at Mrs. O'Dowd's apartments, in the midst of\ncheering from all the East India ships in the river, and the military\non shore, the band playing \"God Save the King,\" the officers waving\ntheir hats, and the crews hurrahing gallantly, the transports went down\nthe river and proceeded under convoy to Ostend. Meanwhile the gallant\nJos had agreed to escort his sister and the Major's wife, the bulk of\nwhose goods and chattels, including the famous bird of paradise and\nturban, were with the regimental baggage: so that our two heroines\ndrove pretty much unencumbered to Ramsgate, where there were plenty of\npackets plying, in one of which they had a speedy passage to Ostend. That period of Jos's life which now ensued was so full of incident,\nthat it served him for conversation for many years after, and even the\ntiger-hunt story was put aside for more stirring narratives which he\nhad to tell about the great campaign of Waterloo. As soon as he had\nagreed to escort his sister abroad, it was remarked that he ceased\nshaving his upper lip. At Chatham he followed the parades and drills\nwith great assiduity. He listened with the utmost attention to the\nconversation of his brother officers (as he called them in after days\nsometimes), and learned as many military names as he could. In these\nstudies the excellent Mrs. O'Dowd was of great assistance to him; and\non the day finally when they embarked on board the Lovely Rose, which\nwas to carry them to their destination, he made his appearance in a\nbraided frock-coat and duck trousers, with a foraging cap ornamented\nwith a smart gold band. Having his carriage with him, and informing\neverybody on board confidentially that he was going to join the Duke of\nWellington's army, folks mistook him for a great personage, a\ncommissary-general, or a government courier at the very least. He suffered hugely on the voyage, during which the ladies were likewise\nprostrate; but Amelia was brought to life again as the packet made\nOstend, by the sight of the transports conveying her regiment, which\nentered the harbour almost at the same time with the Lovely Rose. Jos\nwent in a collapsed state to an inn, while Captain Dobbin escorted the\nladies, and then busied himself in freeing Jos's carriage and luggage\nfrom the ship and the custom-house, for Mr. Jos was at present without\na servant, Osborne's man and his own pampered menial having conspired\ntogether at Chatham, and refused point-blank to cross the water. This\nrevolt, which came very suddenly, and on the last day, so alarmed Mr.\nSedley, junior, that he was on the point of giving up the expedition,\nbut Captain Dobbin (who made himself immensely officious in the\nbusiness, Jos said), rated him and laughed at him soundly:  the\nmustachios were grown in advance, and Jos finally was persuaded to\nembark. In place of the well-bred and well-fed London domestics, who\ncould only speak English, Dobbin procured for Jos's party a swarthy\nlittle Belgian servant who could speak no language at all; but who, by\nhis bustling behaviour, and by invariably addressing Mr. Sedley as \"My\nlord,\" speedily acquired that gentleman's favour. Times are altered at\nOstend now; of the Britons who go thither, very few look like lords, or\nact like those members of our hereditary aristocracy. They seem for\nthe most part shabby in attire, dingy of linen, lovers of billiards and\nbrandy, and cigars and greasy ordinaries. But it may be said as a rule, that every Englishman in the Duke of\nWellington's army paid his way. The remembrance of such a fact surely\nbecomes a nation of shopkeepers. It was a blessing for a\ncommerce-loving country to be overrun by such an army of customers: and\nto have such creditable warriors to feed. And the country which they\ncame to protect is not military. For a long period of history they\nhave let other people fight there. When the present writer went to\nsurvey with eagle glance the field of Waterloo, we asked the conductor\nof the diligence, a portly warlike-looking veteran, whether he had been\nat the battle. \"Pas si bete\"--such an answer and sentiment as no\nFrenchman would own to--was his reply. But, on the other hand, the\npostilion who drove us was a Viscount, a son of some bankrupt Imperial\nGeneral, who accepted a pennyworth of beer on the road. The moral is\nsurely a good one. This flat, flourishing, easy country never could have looked more rich\nand prosperous than in that opening summer of 1815, when its green\nfields and quiet cities were enlivened by multiplied red-coats: when\nits wide chaussees swarmed with brilliant English equipages: when its\ngreat canal-boats, gliding by rich pastures and pleasant quaint old\nvillages, by old chateaux lying amongst old trees, were all crowded\nwith well-to-do English travellers: when the soldier who drank at the\nvillage inn, not only drank, but paid his score; and Donald, the\nHighlander, billeted in the Flemish farm-house, rocked the baby's\ncradle, while Jean and Jeannette were out getting in the hay. As our\npainters are bent on military subjects just now, I throw out this as a\ngood subject for the pencil, to illustrate the principle of an honest\nEnglish war. All looked as brilliant and harmless as a Hyde Park\nreview. Meanwhile, Napoleon screened behind his curtain of\nfrontier-fortresses, was preparing for the outbreak which was to drive\nall these orderly people into fury and blood; and lay so many of them\nlow. Everybody had such a perfect feeling of confidence in the leader (for\nthe resolute faith which the Duke of Wellington had inspired in the\nwhole English nation was as intense as that more frantic enthusiasm\nwith which at one time the French regarded Napoleon), the country\nseemed in so perfect a state of orderly defence, and the help at hand\nin case of need so near and overwhelming, that alarm was unknown, and\nour travellers, among whom two were naturally of a very timid sort,\nwere, like all the other multiplied English tourists, entirely at ease. The famous regiment, with so many of whose officers we have made\nacquaintance, was drafted in canal boats to Bruges and Ghent, thence to\nmarch to Brussels. Jos accompanied the ladies in the public boats; the\nwhich all old travellers in Flanders must remember for the luxury and\naccommodation they afforded. So prodigiously good was the eating and\ndrinking on board these sluggish but most comfortable vessels, that\nthere are legends extant of an English traveller, who, coming to\nBelgium for a week, and travelling in one of these boats, was so\ndelighted with the fare there that he went backwards and forwards from\nGhent to Bruges perpetually until the railroads were invented, when he\ndrowned himself on the last trip of the passage-boat.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-07, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-08 The user is reading a book]\n<User> Jos's death was\nnot to be of this sort, but his comfort was exceeding, and Mrs. O'Dowd\ninsisted that he only wanted her sister Glorvina to make his happiness\ncomplete. He sate on the roof of the cabin all day drinking Flemish\nbeer, shouting for Isidor, his servant, and talking gallantly to the\nladies. His courage was prodigious. \"Boney attack us!\" he cried. \"My dear\ncreature, my poor Emmy, don't be frightened. There's no danger. The\nallies will be in Paris in two months, I tell you; when I'll take you\nto dine in the Palais Royal, by Jove! There are three hundred thousand\nRooshians, I tell you, now entering France by Mayence and the\nRhine--three hundred thousand under Wittgenstein and Barclay de Tolly,\nmy poor love. You don't know military affairs, my dear. I do, and I\ntell you there's no infantry in France can stand against Rooshian\ninfantry, and no general of Boney's that's fit to hold a candle to\nWittgenstein. Then there are the Austrians, they are five hundred\nthousand if a man, and they are within ten marches of the frontier by\nthis time, under Schwartzenberg and Prince Charles. Then there are the\nProoshians under the gallant Prince Marshal. Show me a cavalry chief\nlike him now that Murat is gone. Hey, Mrs. O'Dowd? Do you think our\nlittle girl here need be afraid? Is there any cause for fear, Isidor? Hey, sir? Get some more beer.\" Mrs. O'Dowd said that her \"Glorvina was not afraid of any man alive,\nlet alone a Frenchman,\" and tossed off a glass of beer with a wink\nwhich expressed her liking for the beverage. Having frequently been in presence of the enemy, or, in other words,\nfaced the ladies at Cheltenham and Bath, our friend, the Collector, had\nlost a great deal of his pristine timidity, and was now, especially\nwhen fortified with liquor, as talkative as might be. He was rather a\nfavourite with the regiment, treating the young officers with\nsumptuosity, and amusing them by his military airs. And as there is one\nwell-known regiment of the army which travels with a goat heading the\ncolumn, whilst another is led by a deer, George said with respect to\nhis brother-in-law, that his regiment marched with an elephant. Since Amelia's introduction to the regiment, George began to be rather\nashamed of some of the company to which he had been forced to present\nher; and determined, as he told Dobbin (with what satisfaction to the\nlatter it need not be said), to exchange into some better regiment\nsoon, and to get his wife away from those damned vulgar women. But\nthis vulgarity of being ashamed of one's society is much more common\namong men than women (except very great ladies of fashion, who, to be\nsure, indulge in it); and Mrs. Amelia, a natural and unaffected person,\nhad none of that artificial shamefacedness which her husband mistook\nfor delicacy on his own part. Thus Mrs. O'Dowd had a cock's plume in\nher hat, and a very large \"repayther\" on her stomach, which she used to\nring on all occasions, narrating how it had been presented to her by\nher fawther, as she stipt into the car'ge after her mar'ge; and these\nornaments, with other outward peculiarities of the Major's wife, gave\nexcruciating agonies to Captain Osborne, when his wife and the Major's\ncame in contact; whereas Amelia was only amused by the honest lady's\neccentricities, and not in the least ashamed of her company. As they made that well-known journey, which almost every Englishman of\nmiddle rank has travelled since, there might have been more\ninstructive, but few more entertaining, companions than Mrs. Major\nO'Dowd. \"Talk about kenal boats; my dear! Ye should see the kenal\nboats between Dublin and Ballinasloe. It's there the rapid travelling\nis; and the beautiful cattle. Sure me fawther got a goold medal (and\nhis Excellency himself eat a slice of it, and said never was finer mate\nin his loif) for a four-year-old heifer, the like of which ye never saw\nin this country any day.\" And Jos owned with a sigh, \"that for good\nstreaky beef, really mingled with fat and lean, there was no country\nlike England.\" \"Except Ireland, where all your best mate comes from,\" said the Major's\nlady; proceeding, as is not unusual with patriots of her nation, to\nmake comparisons greatly in favour of her own country. The idea of\ncomparing the market at Bruges with those of Dublin, although she had\nsuggested it herself, caused immense scorn and derision on her part. \"I'll thank ye tell me what they mean by that old gazabo on the top of\nthe market-place,\" said she, in a burst of ridicule fit to have brought\nthe old tower down. The place was full of English soldiery as they\npassed. English bugles woke them in the morning; at nightfall they\nwent to bed to the note of the British fife and drum:  all the country\nand Europe was in arms, and the greatest event of history pending:  and\nhonest Peggy O'Dowd, whom it concerned as well as another, went on\nprattling about Ballinafad, and the horses in the stables at\nGlenmalony, and the clar't drunk there; and Jos Sedley interposed about\ncurry and rice at Dumdum; and Amelia thought about her husband, and how\nbest she should show her love for him; as if these were the great\ntopics of the world. Those who like to lay down the History-book, and to speculate upon what\nMIGHT have happened in the world, but for the fatal occurrence of what\nactually did take place (a most puzzling, amusing, ingenious, and\nprofitable kind of meditation), have no doubt often thought to\nthemselves what a specially bad time Napoleon took to come back from\nElba, and to let loose his eagle from Gulf San Juan to Notre Dame. The\nhistorians on our side tell us that the armies of the allied powers\nwere all providentially on a war-footing, and ready to bear down at a\nmoment's notice upon the Elban Emperor. The august jobbers assembled at\nVienna, and carving out the kingdoms of Europe according to their\nwisdom, had such causes of quarrel among themselves as might have set\nthe armies which had overcome Napoleon to fight against each other, but\nfor the return of the object of unanimous hatred and fear. This\nmonarch had an army in full force because he had jobbed to himself\nPoland, and was determined to keep it:  another had robbed half Saxony,\nand was bent upon maintaining his acquisition: Italy was the object of\na third's solicitude. Each was protesting against the rapacity of the\nother; and could the Corsican but have waited in prison until all these\nparties were by the ears, he might have returned and reigned\nunmolested. But what would have become of our story and all our\nfriends, then? If all the drops in it were dried up, what would become\nof the sea? In the meanwhile the business of life and living, and the pursuits of\npleasure, especially, went on as if no end were to be expected to them,\nand no enemy in front. When our travellers arrived at Brussels, in\nwhich their regiment was quartered, a great piece of good fortune, as\nall said, they found themselves in one of the gayest and most brilliant\nlittle capitals in Europe, and where all the Vanity Fair booths were\nlaid out with the most tempting liveliness and splendour. Gambling was\nhere in profusion, and dancing in plenty:  feasting was there to fill\nwith delight that great gourmand of a Jos:  there was a theatre where a\nmiraculous Catalani was delighting all hearers:  beautiful rides, all\nenlivened with martial splendour; a rare old city, with strange\ncostumes and wonderful architecture, to delight the eyes of little\nAmelia, who had never before seen a foreign country, and fill her with\ncharming surprises: so that now and for a few weeks' space in a fine\nhandsome lodging, whereof the expenses were borne by Jos and Osborne,\nwho was flush of money and full of kind attentions to his wife--for\nabout a fortnight, I say, during which her honeymoon ended, Mrs. Amelia\nwas as pleased and happy as any little bride out of England. Every day during this happy time there was novelty and amusement for\nall parties. There was a church to see, or a picture-gallery--there\nwas a ride, or an opera. The bands of the regiments were making music\nat all hours. The greatest folks of England walked in the Park--there\nwas a perpetual military festival.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-08, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-10 The user is reading a book]\n<User> George, taking out his wife to a\nnew jaunt or junket every night, was quite pleased with himself as\nusual, and swore he was becoming quite a domestic character. And a\njaunt or a junket with HIM! Was it not enough to set this little heart\nbeating with joy? Her letters home to her mother were filled with\ndelight and gratitude at this season. Her husband bade her buy laces,\nmillinery, jewels, and gimcracks of all sorts. Oh, he was the kindest,\nbest, and most generous of men! The sight of the very great company of lords and ladies and fashionable\npersons who thronged the town, and appeared in every public place,\nfilled George's truly British soul with intense delight. They flung\noff that happy frigidity and insolence of demeanour which occasionally\ncharacterises the great at home, and appearing in numberless public\nplaces, condescended to mingle with the rest of the company whom they\nmet there. One night at a party given by the general of the division\nto which George's regiment belonged, he had the honour of dancing with\nLady Blanche Thistlewood, Lord Bareacres' daughter; he bustled for ices\nand refreshments for the two noble ladies; he pushed and squeezed for\nLady Bareacres' carriage; he bragged about the Countess when he got\nhome, in a way which his own father could not have surpassed. He\ncalled upon the ladies the next day; he rode by their side in the Park;\nhe asked their party to a great dinner at a restaurateur's, and was\nquite wild with exultation when they agreed to come. Old Bareacres,\nwho had not much pride and a large appetite, would go for a dinner\nanywhere. \"I hope there will be no women besides our own party,\" Lady Bareacres\nsaid, after reflecting upon the invitation which had been made, and\naccepted with too much precipitancy. \"Gracious Heaven, Mamma--you don't suppose the man would bring his\nwife,\" shrieked Lady Blanche, who had been languishing in George's arms\nin the newly imported waltz for hours the night before. \"The men are\nbearable, but their women--\"\n\n\"Wife, just married, dev'lish pretty woman, I hear,\" the old Earl said. \"Well, my dear Blanche,\" said the mother, \"I suppose, as Papa wants to\ngo, we must go; but we needn't know them in England, you know.\" And so,\ndetermined to cut their new acquaintance in Bond Street, these great\nfolks went to eat his dinner at Brussels, and condescending to make him\npay for their pleasure, showed their dignity by making his wife\nuncomfortable, and carefully excluding her from the conversation. This\nis a species of dignity in which the high-bred British female reigns\nsupreme. To watch the behaviour of a fine lady to other and humbler\nwomen, is a very good sport for a philosophical frequenter of Vanity\nFair. This festival, on which honest George spent a great deal of money, was\nthe very dismallest of all the entertainments which Amelia had in her\nhoneymoon. She wrote the most piteous accounts of the feast home to\nher mamma:  how the Countess of Bareacres would not answer when spoken\nto; how Lady Blanche stared at her with her eye-glass; and what a rage\nCaptain Dobbin was in at their behaviour; and how my lord, as they came\naway from the feast, asked to see the bill, and pronounced it a d----\nbad dinner, and d---- dear. But though Amelia told all these stories,\nand wrote home regarding her guests' rudeness, and her own\ndiscomfiture, old Mrs. Sedley was mightily pleased nevertheless, and\ntalked about Emmy's friend, the Countess of Bareacres, with such\nassiduity that the news how his son was entertaining peers and\npeeresses actually came to Osborne's ears in the City. Those who know the present Lieutenant-General Sir George Tufto, K.C.B.,\nand have seen him, as they may on most days in the season, padded and\nin stays, strutting down Pall Mall with a rickety swagger on his\nhigh-heeled lacquered boots, leering under the bonnets of passers-by,\nor riding a showy chestnut, and ogling broughams in the Parks--those\nwho know the present Sir George Tufto would hardly recognise the daring\nPeninsular and Waterloo officer. He has thick curling brown hair and\nblack eyebrows now, and his whiskers are of the deepest purple. He was\nlight-haired and bald in 1815, and stouter in the person and in the\nlimbs, which especially have shrunk very much of late. When he was\nabout seventy years of age (he is now nearly eighty), his hair, which\nwas very scarce and quite white, suddenly grew thick, and brown, and\ncurly, and his whiskers and eyebrows took their present colour. Ill-natured people say that his chest is all wool, and that his hair,\nbecause it never grows, is a wig. Tom Tufto, with whose father he\nquarrelled ever so many years ago, declares that Mademoiselle de\nJaisey, of the French theatre, pulled his grandpapa's hair off in the\ngreen-room; but Tom is notoriously spiteful and jealous; and the\nGeneral's wig has nothing to do with our story. One day, as some of our friends of the --th were sauntering in the\nflower-market of Brussels, having been to see the Hotel de Ville, which\nMrs. Major O'Dowd declared was not near so large or handsome as her\nfawther's mansion of Glenmalony, an officer of rank, with an orderly\nbehind him, rode up to the market, and descending from his horse, came\namongst the flowers, and selected the very finest bouquet which money\ncould buy. The beautiful bundle being tied up in a paper, the officer\nremounted, giving the nosegay into the charge of his military groom,\nwho carried it with a grin, following his chief, who rode away in great\nstate and self-satisfaction. \"You should see the flowers at Glenmalony,\" Mrs. O'Dowd was remarking. \"Me fawther has three Scotch garners with nine helpers. We have an acre\nof hot-houses, and pines as common as pays in the sayson. Our greeps\nweighs six pounds every bunch of 'em, and upon me honour and conscience\nI think our magnolias is as big as taykettles.\" Dobbin, who never used to \"draw out\" Mrs. O'Dowd as that wicked Osborne\ndelighted in doing (much to Amelia's terror, who implored him to spare\nher), fell back in the crowd, crowing and sputtering until he reached a\nsafe distance, when he exploded amongst the astonished market-people\nwith shrieks of yelling laughter. \"Hwhat's that gawky guggling about?\" said Mrs. O'Dowd. \"Is it his nose\nbleedn? He always used to say 'twas his nose bleedn, till he must have\npomped all the blood out of 'um. An't the magnolias at Glenmalony as\nbig as taykettles, O'Dowd?\" \"'Deed then they are, and bigger, Peggy,\" the Major said. When the\nconversation was interrupted in the manner stated by the arrival of the\nofficer who purchased the bouquet. \"Devlish fine horse--who is it?\" George asked. \"You should see me brother Molloy Malony's horse, Molasses, that won\nthe cop at the Curragh,\" the Major's wife was exclaiming, and was\ncontinuing the family history, when her husband interrupted her by\nsaying--\n\n\"It's General Tufto, who commands the ---- cavalry division\"; adding\nquietly, \"he and I were both shot in the same leg at Talavera.\" \"Where you got your step,\" said George with a laugh. \"General Tufto! Then, my dear, the Crawleys are come.\" Amelia's heart fell--she knew not why. The sun did not seem to shine\nso bright. The tall old roofs and gables looked less picturesque all\nof a sudden, though it was a brilliant sunset, and one of the brightest\nand most beautiful days at the end of May. Brussels\n\nMr. Jos had hired a pair of horses for his open carriage, with which\ncattle, and the smart London vehicle, he made a very tolerable figure\nin the drives about Brussels. George purchased a horse for his private\nriding, and he and Captain Dobbin would often accompany the carriage in\nwhich Jos and his sister took daily excursions of pleasure. They went\nout that day in the park for their accustomed diversion, and there,\nsure enough, George's remark with regard to the arrival of Rawdon\nCrawley and his wife proved to be correct.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-10, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-13 The user is reading a book]\n<User> In the midst of a little\ntroop of horsemen, consisting of some of the very greatest persons in\nBrussels, Rebecca was seen in the prettiest and tightest of\nriding-habits, mounted on a beautiful little Arab, which she rode to\nperfection (having acquired the art at Queen's Crawley, where the\nBaronet, Mr. Pitt, and Rawdon himself had given her many lessons), and\nby the side of the gallant General Tufto. \"Sure it's the Juke himself,\" cried Mrs. Major O'Dowd to Jos, who began\nto blush violently; \"and that's Lord Uxbridge on the bay. How elegant\nhe looks! Me brother, Molloy Malony, is as like him as two pays.\" Rebecca did not make for the carriage; but as soon as she perceived her\nold acquaintance Amelia seated in it, acknowledged her presence by a\ngracious nod and smile, and by kissing and shaking her fingers\nplayfully in the direction of the vehicle. Then she resumed her\nconversation with General Tufto, who asked \"who the fat officer was in\nthe gold-laced cap?\" on which Becky replied, \"that he was an officer in\nthe East Indian service.\" But Rawdon Crawley rode out of the ranks of\nhis company, and came up and shook hands heartily with Amelia, and said\nto Jos, \"Well, old boy, how are you?\" and stared in Mrs. O'Dowd's face\nand at the black cock's feathers until she began to think she had made\na conquest of him. George, who had been delayed behind, rode up almost immediately with\nDobbin, and they touched their caps to the august personages, among\nwhom Osborne at once perceived Mrs. Crawley. He was delighted to see\nRawdon leaning over his carriage familiarly and talking to Amelia, and\nmet the aide-de-camp's cordial greeting with more than corresponding\nwarmth. The nods between Rawdon and Dobbin were of the very faintest\nspecimens of politeness. Crawley told George where they were stopping with General Tufto at the\nHotel du Parc, and George made his friend promise to come speedily to\nOsborne's own residence. \"Sorry I hadn't seen you three days ago,\"\nGeorge said. \"Had a dinner at the Restaurateur's--rather a nice thing. Lord Bareacres, and the Countess, and Lady Blanche, were good enough to\ndine with us--wish we'd had you.\" Having thus let his friend know his\nclaims to be a man of fashion, Osborne parted from Rawdon, who followed\nthe august squadron down an alley into which they cantered, while\nGeorge and Dobbin resumed their places, one on each side of Amelia's\ncarriage. \"How well the Juke looked,\" Mrs. O'Dowd remarked. \"The Wellesleys and\nMalonys are related; but, of course, poor I would never dream of\nintrojuicing myself unless his Grace thought proper to remember our\nfamily-tie.\" \"He's a great soldier,\" Jos said, much more at ease now the great man\nwas gone. \"Was there ever a battle won like Salamanca? Hey, Dobbin? But where was it he learnt his art? In India, my boy! The jungle's\nthe school for a general, mark me that. I knew him myself, too, Mrs.\nO'Dowd:  we both of us danced the same evening with Miss Cutler,\ndaughter of Cutler of the Artillery, and a devilish fine girl, at\nDumdum.\" The apparition of the great personages held them all in talk during the\ndrive; and at dinner; and until the hour came when they were all to go\nto the Opera. It was almost like Old England. The house was filled with familiar\nBritish faces, and those toilettes for which the British female has\nlong been celebrated. Mrs. O'Dowd's was not the least splendid amongst\nthese, and she had a curl on her forehead, and a set of Irish diamonds\nand Cairngorms, which outshone all the decorations in the house, in her\nnotion. Her presence used to excruciate Osborne; but go she would upon\nall parties of pleasure on which she heard her young friends were bent. It never entered into her thought but that they must be charmed with\nher company. \"She's been useful to you, my dear,\" George said to his wife, whom he\ncould leave alone with less scruple when she had this society. \"But\nwhat a comfort it is that Rebecca's come:  you will have her for a\nfriend, and we may get rid now of this damn'd Irishwoman.\" To this\nAmelia did not answer, yes or no:  and how do we know what her thoughts\nwere? The coup d'oeil of the Brussels opera-house did not strike Mrs. O'Dowd\nas being so fine as the theatre in Fishamble Street, Dublin, nor was\nFrench music at all equal, in her opinion, to the melodies of her\nnative country. She favoured her friends with these and other opinions\nin a very loud tone of voice, and tossed about a great clattering fan\nshe sported, with the most splendid complacency. \"Who is that wonderful woman with Amelia, Rawdon, love?\" said a lady in\nan opposite box (who, almost always civil to her husband in private,\nwas more fond than ever of him in company). \"Don't you see that creature with a yellow thing in her turban, and a\nred satin gown, and a great watch?\" \"Near the pretty little woman in white?\" asked a middle-aged gentleman\nseated by the querist's side, with orders in his button, and several\nunder-waistcoats, and a great, choky, white stock. \"That pretty woman in white is Amelia, General:  you are remarking all\nthe pretty women, you naughty man.\" \"Only one, begad, in the world!\" said the General, delighted, and the\nlady gave him a tap with a large bouquet which she had. \"Bedad it's him,\" said Mrs. O'Dowd; \"and that's the very bokay he\nbought in the Marshy aux Flures!\" and when Rebecca, having caught her\nfriend's eye, performed the little hand-kissing operation once more,\nMrs. Major O'D., taking the compliment to herself, returned the salute\nwith a gracious smile, which sent that unfortunate Dobbin shrieking out\nof the box again. At the end of the act, George was out of the box in a moment, and he\nwas even going to pay his respects to Rebecca in her loge. He met\nCrawley in the lobby, however, where they exchanged a few sentences\nupon the occurrences of the last fortnight. \"You found my cheque all right at the agent's? George said, with a\nknowing air. \"All right, my boy,\" Rawdon answered. \"Happy to give you your revenge. Governor come round?\" \"Not yet,\" said George, \"but he will; and you know I've some private\nfortune through my mother. Has Aunty relented?\" \"Sent me twenty pound, damned old screw. When shall we have a meet? The General dines out on Tuesday. Can't you come Tuesday? I say, make\nSedley cut off his moustache. What the devil does a civilian mean with\na moustache and those infernal frogs to his coat! By-bye. Try and come\non Tuesday\"; and Rawdon was going-off with two brilliant young\ngentlemen of fashion, who were, like himself, on the staff of a general\nofficer. George was only half pleased to be asked to dinner on that particular\nday when the General was not to dine. \"I will go in and pay my\nrespects to your wife,\" said he; at which Rawdon said, \"Hm, as you\nplease,\" looking very glum, and at which the two young officers\nexchanged knowing glances. George parted from them and strutted down\nthe lobby to the General's box, the number of which he had carefully\ncounted. \"Entrez,\" said a clear little voice, and our friend found himself in\nRebecca's presence; who jumped up, clapped her hands together, and held\nout both of them to George, so charmed was she to see him. The\nGeneral, with the orders in his button, stared at the newcomer with a\nsulky scowl, as much as to say, who the devil are you? \"My dear Captain George!\" cried little Rebecca in an ecstasy. \"How\ngood of you to come. The General and I were moping together tete-a-tete. General, this is my Captain George of whom you heard me talk.\" \"Indeed,\" said the General, with a very small bow; \"of what regiment is\nCaptain George?\" George mentioned the --th:  how he wished he could have said it was a\ncrack cavalry corps. \"Come home lately from the West Indies, I believe. Not seen much\nservice in the late war. Quartered here, Captain George?\" --the General\nwent on with killing haughtiness.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-13, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-15 The user is reading a book]\n<User> \"Not Captain George, you stupid man; Captain Osborne,\" Rebecca said. The General all the while was looking savagely from one to the other. \"Captain Osborne, indeed! Any relation to the L------ Osbornes?\" \"We bear the same arms,\" George said, as indeed was the fact; Mr.\nOsborne having consulted with a herald in Long Acre, and picked the\nL------ arms out of the peerage, when he set up his carriage fifteen\nyears before. The General made no reply to this announcement; but took\nup his opera-glass--the double-barrelled lorgnon was not invented in\nthose days--and pretended to examine the house; but Rebecca saw that\nhis disengaged eye was working round in her direction, and shooting out\nbloodshot glances at her and George. She redoubled in cordiality. \"How is dearest Amelia? But I needn't\nask: how pretty she looks! And who is that nice good-natured looking\ncreature with her--a flame of yours? O, you wicked men! And there is\nMr. Sedley eating ice, I declare: how he seems to enjoy it! General,\nwhy have we not had any ices?\" \"Shall I go and fetch you some?\" said the General, bursting with wrath. \"Let ME go, I entreat you,\" George said. \"No, I will go to Amelia's box. Dear, sweet girl! Give me your arm,\nCaptain George\"; and so saying, and with a nod to the General, she\ntripped into the lobby. She gave George the queerest, knowingest look,\nwhen they were together, a look which might have been interpreted,\n\"Don't you see the state of affairs, and what a fool I'm making of\nhim?\" But he did not perceive it. He was thinking of his own plans,\nand lost in pompous admiration of his own irresistible powers of\npleasing. The curses to which the General gave a low utterance, as soon as\nRebecca and her conqueror had quitted him, were so deep, that I am sure\nno compositor would venture to print them were they written down. They\ncame from the General's heart; and a wonderful thing it is to think\nthat the human heart is capable of generating such produce, and can\nthrow out, as occasion demands, such a supply of lust and fury, rage\nand hatred. Amelia's gentle eyes, too, had been fixed anxiously on the pair, whose\nconduct had so chafed the jealous General; but when Rebecca entered her\nbox, she flew to her friend with an affectionate rapture which showed\nitself, in spite of the publicity of the place; for she embraced her\ndearest friend in the presence of the whole house, at least in full\nview of the General's glass, now brought to bear upon the Osborne\nparty. Mrs. Rawdon saluted Jos, too, with the kindliest greeting: she\nadmired Mrs. O'Dowd's large Cairngorm brooch and superb Irish diamonds,\nand wouldn't believe that they were not from Golconda direct. She\nbustled, she chattered, she turned and twisted, and smiled upon one,\nand smirked on another, all in full view of the jealous opera-glass\nopposite. And when the time for the ballet came (in which there was no\ndancer that went through her grimaces or performed her comedy of action\nbetter), she skipped back to her own box, leaning on Captain Dobbin's\narm this time. No, she would not have George's: he must stay and talk\nto his dearest, best, little Amelia. \"What a humbug that woman is!\" honest old Dobbin mumbled to George,\nwhen he came back from Rebecca's box, whither he had conducted her in\nperfect silence, and with a countenance as glum as an undertaker's. \"She writhes and twists about like a snake. All the time she was here,\ndidn't you see, George, how she was acting at the General over the way?\" \"Humbug--acting! Hang it, she's the nicest little woman in England,\"\nGeorge replied, showing his white teeth, and giving his ambrosial\nwhiskers a twirl. \"You ain't a man of the world, Dobbin. Dammy, look\nat her now, she's talked over Tufto in no time. Look how he's\nlaughing! Gad, what a shoulder she has! Emmy, why didn't you have a\nbouquet? Everybody has a bouquet.\" \"Faith, then, why didn't you BOY one?\" Mrs. O'Dowd said; and both\nAmelia and William Dobbin thanked her for this timely observation. But\nbeyond this neither of the ladies rallied. Amelia was overpowered by\nthe flash and the dazzle and the fashionable talk of her worldly rival. Even the O'Dowd was silent and subdued after Becky's brilliant\napparition, and scarcely said a word more about Glenmalony all the\nevening. \"When do you intend to give up play, George, as you have promised me,\nany time these hundred years?\" Dobbin said to his friend a few days\nafter the night at the Opera. \"When do you intend to give up\nsermonising?\" was the other's reply. \"What the deuce, man, are you\nalarmed about? We play low; I won last night. You don't suppose\nCrawley cheats? With fair play it comes to pretty much the same thing\nat the year's end.\" \"But I don't think he could pay if he lost,\" Dobbin said; and his\nadvice met with the success which advice usually commands. Osborne and\nCrawley were repeatedly together now. General Tufto dined abroad\nalmost constantly. George was always welcome in the apartments (very\nclose indeed to those of the General) which the aide-de-camp and his\nwife occupied in the hotel. Amelia's manners were such when she and George visited Crawley and his\nwife at these quarters, that they had very nearly come to their first\nquarrel; that is, George scolded his wife violently for her evident\nunwillingness to go, and the high and mighty manner in which she\ncomported herself towards Mrs. Crawley, her old friend; and Amelia did\nnot say one single word in reply; but with her husband's eye upon her,\nand Rebecca scanning her as she felt, was, if possible, more bashful\nand awkward on the second visit which she paid to Mrs. Rawdon, than on\nher first call. Rebecca was doubly affectionate, of course, and would not take notice,\nin the least, of her friend's coolness. \"I think Emmy has become\nprouder since her father's name was in the--since Mr. Sedley's\nMISFORTUNES,\" Rebecca said, softening the phrase charitably for\nGeorge's ear. \"Upon my word, I thought when we were at Brighton she was doing me the\nhonour to be jealous of me; and now I suppose she is scandalised\nbecause Rawdon, and I, and the General live together. Why, my dear\ncreature, how could we, with our means, live at all, but for a friend\nto share expenses? And do you suppose that Rawdon is not big enough to\ntake care of my honour? But I'm very much obliged to Emmy, very,\" Mrs.\nRawdon said. \"Pooh, jealousy!\" answered George, \"all women are jealous.\" \"And all men too. Weren't you jealous of General Tufto, and the\nGeneral of you, on the night of the Opera? Why, he was ready to eat me\nfor going with you to visit that foolish little wife of yours; as if I\ncare a pin for either of you,\" Crawley's wife said, with a pert toss of\nher head. \"Will you dine here? The dragon dines with the\nCommander-in-Chief. Great news is stirring. They say the French have\ncrossed the frontier. We shall have a quiet dinner.\" George accepted the invitation, although his wife was a little ailing. They were now not quite six weeks married. Another woman was laughing\nor sneering at her expense, and he not angry. He was not even angry\nwith himself, this good-natured fellow. It is a shame, he owned to\nhimself; but hang it, if a pretty woman WILL throw herself in your way,\nwhy, what can a fellow do, you know? I AM rather free about women, he\nhad often said, smiling and nodding knowingly to Stubble and Spooney,\nand other comrades of the mess-table; and they rather respected him\nthan otherwise for this prowess. Next to conquering in war, conquering\nin love has been a source of pride, time out of mind, amongst men in\nVanity Fair, or how should schoolboys brag of their amours, or Don Juan\nbe popular? So Mr. Osborne, having a firm conviction in his own mind that he was a\nwoman-killer and destined to conquer, did not run counter to his fate,\nbut yielded himself up to it quite complacently.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-15, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-18 The user is reading a book]\n<User> And as Emmy did not\nsay much or plague him with her jealousy, but merely became unhappy and\npined over it miserably in secret, he chose to fancy that she was not\nsuspicious of what all his acquaintance were perfectly aware--namely,\nthat he was carrying on a desperate flirtation with Mrs. Crawley. He\nrode with her whenever she was free. He pretended regimental business\nto Amelia (by which falsehood she was not in the least deceived), and\nconsigning his wife to solitude or her brother's society, passed his\nevenings in the Crawleys' company; losing money to the husband and\nflattering himself that the wife was dying of love for him. It is very\nlikely that this worthy couple never absolutely conspired and agreed\ntogether in so many words:  the one to cajole the young gentleman,\nwhilst the other won his money at cards: but they understood each other\nperfectly well, and Rawdon let Osborne come and go with entire good\nhumour. George was so occupied with his new acquaintances that he and William\nDobbin were by no means so much together as formerly. George avoided\nhim in public and in the regiment, and, as we see, did not like those\nsermons which his senior was disposed to inflict upon him. If some\nparts of his conduct made Captain Dobbin exceedingly grave and cool; of\nwhat use was it to tell George that, though his whiskers were large,\nand his own opinion of his knowingness great, he was as green as a\nschoolboy? that Rawdon was making a victim of him as he had done of\nmany before, and as soon as he had used him would fling him off with\nscorn? He would not listen:  and so, as Dobbin, upon those days when\nhe visited the Osborne house, seldom had the advantage of meeting his\nold friend, much painful and unavailing talk between them was spared. Our friend George was in the full career of the pleasures of Vanity\nFair. There never was, since the days of Darius, such a brilliant train of\ncamp-followers as hung round the Duke of Wellington's army in the Low\nCountries, in 1815; and led it dancing and feasting, as it were, up to\nthe very brink of battle. A certain ball which a noble Duchess gave at\nBrussels on the 15th of June in the above-named year is historical. All Brussels had been in a state of excitement about it, and I have\nheard from ladies who were in that town at the period, that the talk\nand interest of persons of their own sex regarding the ball was much\ngreater even than in respect of the enemy in their front. The\nstruggles, intrigues, and prayers to get tickets were such as only\nEnglish ladies will employ, in order to gain admission to the society\nof the great of their own nation. Jos and Mrs. O'Dowd, who were panting to be asked, strove in vain to\nprocure tickets; but others of our friends were more lucky. For\ninstance, through the interest of my Lord Bareacres, and as a set-off\nfor the dinner at the restaurateur's, George got a card for Captain and\nMrs. Osborne; which circumstance greatly elated him. Dobbin, who was a\nfriend of the General commanding the division in which their regiment\nwas, came laughing one day to Mrs. Osborne, and displayed a similar\ninvitation, which made Jos envious, and George wonder how the deuce he\nshould be getting into society. Mr. and Mrs. Rawdon, finally, were of\ncourse invited; as became the friends of a General commanding a cavalry\nbrigade. On the appointed night, George, having commanded new dresses and\nornaments of all sorts for Amelia, drove to the famous ball, where his\nwife did not know a single soul. After looking about for Lady\nBareacres, who cut him, thinking the card was quite enough--and after\nplacing Amelia on a bench, he left her to her own cogitations there,\nthinking, on his own part, that he had behaved very handsomely in\ngetting her new clothes, and bringing her to the ball, where she was\nfree to amuse herself as she liked. Her thoughts were not of the\npleasantest, and nobody except honest Dobbin came to disturb them. Whilst her appearance was an utter failure (as her husband felt with a\nsort of rage), Mrs. Rawdon Crawley's debut was, on the contrary, very\nbrilliant. She arrived very late. Her face was radiant; her dress\nperfection. In the midst of the great persons assembled, and the\neye-glasses directed to her, Rebecca seemed to be as cool and collected\nas when she used to marshal Miss Pinkerton's little girls to church. Numbers of the men she knew already, and the dandies thronged round\nher. As for the ladies, it was whispered among them that Rawdon had\nrun away with her from out of a convent, and that she was a relation of\nthe Montmorency family. She spoke French so perfectly that there might\nbe some truth in this report, and it was agreed that her manners were\nfine, and her air distingue. Fifty would-be partners thronged round\nher at once, and pressed to have the honour to dance with her. But she\nsaid she was engaged, and only going to dance very little; and made her\nway at once to the place where Emmy sate quite unnoticed, and dismally\nunhappy. And so, to finish the poor child at once, Mrs. Rawdon ran and\ngreeted affectionately her dearest Amelia, and began forthwith to\npatronise her. She found fault with her friend's dress, and her\nhairdresser, and wondered how she could be so chaussee, and vowed that\nshe must send her corsetiere the next morning. She vowed that it was a\ndelightful ball; that there was everybody that every one knew, and only\na VERY few nobodies in the whole room. It is a fact, that in a\nfortnight, and after three dinners in general society, this young woman\nhad got up the genteel jargon so well, that a native could not speak it\nbetter; and it was only from her French being so good, that you could\nknow she was not a born woman of fashion. George, who had left Emmy on her bench on entering the ball-room, very\nsoon found his way back when Rebecca was by her dear friend's side. Becky was just lecturing Mrs. Osborne upon the follies which her\nhusband was committing. \"For God's sake, stop him from gambling, my\ndear,\" she said, \"or he will ruin himself. He and Rawdon are playing at\ncards every night, and you know he is very poor, and Rawdon will win\nevery shilling from him if he does not take care. Why don't you\nprevent him, you little careless creature? Why don't you come to us of\nan evening, instead of moping at home with that Captain Dobbin? I dare\nsay he is tres aimable; but how could one love a man with feet of such\nsize? Your husband's feet are darlings--Here he comes. Where have you\nbeen, wretch? Here is Emmy crying her eyes out for you. Are you\ncoming to fetch me for the quadrille?\" And she left her bouquet and\nshawl by Amelia's side, and tripped off with George to dance. Women\nonly know how to wound so. There is a poison on the tips of their\nlittle shafts, which stings a thousand times more than a man's blunter\nweapon. Our poor Emmy, who had never hated, never sneered all her\nlife, was powerless in the hands of her remorseless little enemy. George danced with Rebecca twice or thrice--how many times Amelia\nscarcely knew. She sat quite unnoticed in her corner, except when\nRawdon came up with some words of clumsy conversation:  and later in\nthe evening, when Captain Dobbin made so bold as to bring her\nrefreshments and sit beside her. He did not like to ask her why she\nwas so sad; but as a pretext for the tears which were filling in her\neyes, she told him that Mrs. Crawley had alarmed her by telling her\nthat George would go on playing. \"It is curious, when a man is bent upon play, by what clumsy rogues he\nwill allow himself to be cheated,\" Dobbin said; and Emmy said,\n\"Indeed.\" She was thinking of something else. It was not the loss of\nthe money that grieved her. At last George came back for Rebecca's shawl and flowers. She was\ngoing away. She did not even condescend to come back and say good-bye\nto Amelia. The poor girl let her husband come and go without saying a\nword, and her head fell on her breast. Dobbin had been called away,\nand was whispering deep in conversation with the General of the\ndivision, his friend, and had not seen this last parting. George went\naway then with the bouquet; but when he gave it to the owner, there lay\na note, coiled like a snake among the flowers. Rebecca's eye caught it\nat once.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-18, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-21 The user is reading a book]\n<User> She had been used to deal with notes in early life. She put\nout her hand and took the nosegay. He saw by her eyes as they met,\nthat she was aware what she should find there. Her husband hurried her\naway, still too intent upon his own thoughts, seemingly, to take note\nof any marks of recognition which might pass between his friend and his\nwife. These were, however, but trifling. Rebecca gave George her hand\nwith one of her usual quick knowing glances, and made a curtsey and\nwalked away. George bowed over the hand, said nothing in reply to a\nremark of Crawley's, did not hear it even, his brain was so throbbing\nwith triumph and excitement, and allowed them to go away without a word. His wife saw the one part at least of the bouquet-scene. It was quite\nnatural that George should come at Rebecca's request to get her her\nscarf and flowers:  it was no more than he had done twenty times before\nin the course of the last few days; but now it was too much for her. \"William,\" she said, suddenly clinging to Dobbin, who was near her,\n\"you've always been very kind to me--I'm--I'm not well. Take me home.\" She did not know she called him by his Christian name, as George was\naccustomed to do. He went away with her quickly. Her lodgings were\nhard by; and they threaded through the crowd without, where everything\nseemed to be more astir than even in the ball-room within. George had been angry twice or thrice at finding his wife up on his\nreturn from the parties which he frequented:  so she went straight to\nbed now; but although she did not sleep, and although the din and\nclatter, and the galloping of horsemen were incessant, she never heard\nany of these noises, having quite other disturbances to keep her awake. Osborne meanwhile, wild with elation, went off to a play-table, and\nbegan to bet frantically. He won repeatedly. \"Everything succeeds with\nme to-night,\" he said. But his luck at play even did not cure him of\nhis restlessness, and he started up after awhile, pocketing his\nwinnings, and went to a buffet, where he drank off many bumpers of wine. Here, as he was rattling away to the people around, laughing loudly and\nwild with spirits, Dobbin found him. He had been to the card-tables to\nlook there for his friend. Dobbin looked as pale and grave as his\ncomrade was flushed and jovial. \"Hullo, Dob! Come and drink, old Dob! The Duke's wine is famous. Give\nme some more, you sir\"; and he held out a trembling glass for the\nliquor. \"Come out, George,\" said Dobbin, still gravely; \"don't drink.\" \"Drink! there's nothing like it. Drink yourself, and light up your\nlantern jaws, old boy. Here's to you.\" Dobbin went up and whispered something to him, at which George, giving\na start and a wild hurray, tossed off his glass, clapped it on the\ntable, and walked away speedily on his friend's arm. \"The enemy has\npassed the Sambre,\" William said, \"and our left is already engaged. Come away. We are to march in three hours.\" Away went George, his nerves quivering with excitement at the news so\nlong looked for, so sudden when it came. What were love and intrigue\nnow? He thought about a thousand things but these in his rapid walk to\nhis quarters--his past life and future chances--the fate which might be\nbefore him--the wife, the child perhaps, from whom unseen he might be\nabout to part. Oh, how he wished that night's work undone! and that\nwith a clear conscience at least he might say farewell to the tender\nand guileless being by whose love he had set such little store! He thought over his brief married life. In those few weeks he had\nfrightfully dissipated his little capital. How wild and reckless he\nhad been! Should any mischance befall him:  what was then left for\nher? How unworthy he was of her. Why had he married her? He was not\nfit for marriage. Why had he disobeyed his father, who had been always\nso generous to him? Hope, remorse, ambition, tenderness, and selfish\nregret filled his heart. He sate down and wrote to his father,\nremembering what he had said once before, when he was engaged to fight\na duel. Dawn faintly streaked the sky as he closed this farewell\nletter. He sealed it, and kissed the superscription. He thought how he\nhad deserted that generous father, and of the thousand kindnesses which\nthe stern old man had done him. He had looked into Amelia's bedroom when he entered; she lay quiet, and\nher eyes seemed closed, and he was glad that she was asleep. On\narriving at his quarters from the ball, he had found his regimental\nservant already making preparations for his departure:  the man had\nunderstood his signal to be still, and these arrangements were very\nquickly and silently made. Should he go in and wake Amelia, he\nthought, or leave a note for her brother to break the news of departure\nto her? He went in to look at her once again. She had been awake when he first entered her room, but had kept her\neyes closed, so that even her wakefulness should not seem to reproach\nhim. But when he had returned, so soon after herself, too, this timid\nlittle heart had felt more at ease, and turning towards him as he stept\nsoftly out of the room, she had fallen into a light sleep. George came\nin and looked at her again, entering still more softly. By the pale\nnight-lamp he could see her sweet, pale face--the purple eyelids were\nfringed and closed, and one round arm, smooth and white, lay outside of\nthe coverlet. Good God! how pure she was; how gentle, how tender, and\nhow friendless! and he, how selfish, brutal, and black with crime! Heart-stained, and shame-stricken, he stood at the bed's foot, and\nlooked at the sleeping girl. How dared he--who was he, to pray for one\nso spotless! God bless her! God bless her! He came to the bedside,\nand looked at the hand, the little soft hand, lying asleep; and he bent\nover the pillow noiselessly towards the gentle pale face. Two fair arms closed tenderly round his neck as he stooped down. \"I am\nawake, George,\" the poor child said, with a sob fit to break the little\nheart that nestled so closely by his own. She was awake, poor soul,\nand to what? At that moment a bugle from the Place of Arms began\nsounding clearly, and was taken up through the town; and amidst the\ndrums of the infantry, and the shrill pipes of the Scotch, the whole\ncity awoke.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-21, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far."]
[{"question": "Summarize the content of the book I read from 2024-01-01 to 2024-01-21", "answer": "George, Amelia, Jos, Dobbin, Becky, Mrs. O'Dowd, Glorvina, Rawdon Crawley, General Tufto, Thackeray, Vanity Fair, theater, essay on mothers, solicitor, war outcome, dresses and gimcracks, military appearance, protection, Ireland, Belgium, Brussels, gambling, feasting, dancing, Crawley's regiment, banterings and courtesies, bouquet note, marching orders, remorse, wounded Amelia, flirtation, reckless spending, quarrel with father, embrace, unhappy marriage, apprehension, pseudo-military appearance, grand style, lost wanderer, social impression, conniving marriage, friendly feelings, depression, shame"}]