Those Extraordinary Twins by Mark Twain

with a glory as intense as his. The children talked the duel all the way

to Sunday-school, their elders talked it all the way to church, the choir

discussed it behind their red curtain, it usurped the place of pious

thought in the “nigger gallery.”

By noon the doctor had added the news, and spread it, that Count Angelo,

in spite of his wound and all warnings and supplications, was resolute in

his determination to be baptized at the hour appointed. This swept the

town like wildfire, and mightily reinforced the enthusiasm of the Angelo

faction, who said, “If any doubted that it was moral courage that took

him from the field, what have they to say now!”

Still the excitement grew. All the morning it was traveling countryward,

toward all points of the compass; so, whereas before only the farmers and

their wives were intending to come and witness the remarkable baptism,

a general holiday was now proclaimed and the children and negroes

admitted to the privileges of the occasion. All the farms for ten miles

around were vacated, all the converging roads emptied long processions of

wagons, horses, and yeomanry into the town. The pack and cram of people

vastly exceeded any that had ever been seen in that sleepy region before.

The only thing that had ever even approached it, was the time long gone

by, but never forgotten, nor even referred to without wonder and pride,

when two circuses and a Fourth of July fell together. But the glory of

that occasion was extinguished now for good. It was but a freshet to

this deluge.

The great invasion massed itself on the river-bank and waited hungrily

for the immense event. Waited, and wondered if it would really happen,

or if the twin who was not a “professor” would stand out and prevent it.

But they were not to be disappointed. Angela was as good as his word.

He came attended by an escort of honor composed of several hundred of the

best citizens, all of the Angelo party; and when the immersion was

finished they escorted him back home and would even have carried him on

their shoulders, but that people might think they were carrying Luigi.

Far into the night the citizens continued to discuss and wonder over the

strangely mated pair of incidents that had distinguished and exalted the

past twenty-four hours above any other twenty-four in the history of

their town for picturesqueness and splendid interest; and long before the

lights were out and burghers asleep it had been decided on all hands that

in capturing these twins Dawson’s Landing had drawn a prize in the great

lottery of municipal fortune.

At midnight Angelo was sleeping peacefully. His immersion had not harmed

him, it had merely made him wholesomely drowsy, and he had been dead

asleep many hours now. It had made Luigi drowsy, too, but he had got

only brief naps, on account of his having to take the medicine every

three-quarters of an hour-and Aunt Betsy Hale was there to see that he

did it. When he complained and resisted, she was quietly firm with him,

and said in a low voice:

“No-no, that won’t do; you mustn’t talk, and you mustn’t retch and gag

that way, either–you’ll wake up your poor brother.”

“Well, what of it, Aunt Betsy, he–”

“‘Sh-h! Don’t make a noise, dear. You mustn’t: forget that your poor

brother is sick and–”

“Sick, is he? Well, I wish I–”

“‘Sh-h-h! Will you be quiet, Luigi! Here, now, take the rest of it–

don’t keep me holding the dipper all night. I declare if you haven’t

left a good fourth of it in the bottom! Come-that’s a good–

“Aunt Betsy, don’t make me! I feel like I’ve swallowed a cemetery; I do,

indeed. Do let me rest a little–just a little; I can’t take any more of

the devilish stuff now.”

“Luigi! Using such language here, and him just baptized! Do you want

the roof to fall on you?”

“I wish to goodness it would!”

“Why, you dreadful thing! I’ve a good notion to–let that blanket alone;

do you want your, brother to catch his death?”

“Aunt Betsy, I’ve got to have it off, I’m being roasted alive; nobody

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