little dorrit-信丽(英文版)-第17章

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we　can't　fall；　and　what　have　we　found？　Peace。　That's　the　word　for
it。　Peace。'　With　this　profession　of　faith；　the　doctor；　who　was　an　old
jail…bird；　and　was　more　sodden　than　usual；　and　had　the　additional　and
unusual　stimulus　of　money　in　his　pocket；　returned　to　his　associate　and
chum　in　hoarseness；　puffiness；　red…facedness；　all…fours；　tobacco；　dirt；
and　brandy。

Now；　the　debtor　was　a　very　different　man　from　the　doctor；　but　he　had
already　begun　to　travel；　by　his　opposite　segment　of　the　circle；　to　the
same　point。　Crushed　at　first　by　his　imprisonment；　he　had　soon　found　a
dull　relief　in　it。　He　was　under　lock　and　key；　but　the　lock　and　key　that
kept　him　in；　kept　numbers　of　his　troubles　out。　If　he　had　been　a　man　with
strength　of　purpose　to　face　those　troubles　and　fight　them；　he　might　have
broken　the　　that　held　him；　or　broken　his　heart；　but　being　what　he
was；　he　languidly　slipped　into　this　smooth　descent；　and　never　more　took
one　step　upward。

When　he　was　relieved　of　the　perplexed　affairs　that　nothing　would　make
plain；　through　having　them　returned　upon　his　hands　by　a　dozen　agents　in
succession　who　could　make　neither　beginning；　middle；　nor　end　of　them　or
him；　he　found　his　miserable　place　of　refuge　a　quieter　refuge　than　it
had　been　before。　He　had　unpacked　the　portmanteau　long　ago；　and　his　elder
children　now　played　regularly　about　the　yard；　and　everybody　knew　the
baby；　and　claimed　a　kind　of　proprietorship　in　her。

'Why；　I'm　getting　proud　of　you；'　said　his　friend　the　turnkey；　one　day。
'You'll　be　the　oldest　inhabitant　soon。　The　Marshalsea　wouldn't　be　like
the　Marshalsea　now；　without　you　and　your　family。'

The　turnkey　really　was　proud　of　him。　He　would　mention　him　in　laudatory
terms　to　new…ers；　when　his　back　was　turned。　'You　took　notice　of　him；'
he　would　say；　'that　went　out　of　the　lodge　just　now？'

New…er　would　probably　answer　Yes。

'Brought　up　as　a　gentleman；　he　was；　if　ever　a　man　was。　Ed'cated　at　no
end　of　expense。　Went　into　the　Marshal's　house　once　to　try　a　new　piano
for　him。　Played　it；　I　understand；　like　one　o'clock……beautiful！　As　to
languages……speaks　anything。　We've　had　a　Frenchman　here　in　his　time；　and
it's　my　opinion　he　knowed　more　French　than　the　Frenchman　did。　We've　had
an　Italian　here　in　his　time；　and　he　shut　him　up　in　about　half　a　minute。
You'll　find　some　characters　behind　other　locks；　I　don't　say　you　won't；
but　if　you　want　the　top　sawyer　in　such　respects　as　I've　mentioned；　you
must　e　to　the　Marshalsea。'

When　his　youngest　child　was　eight　years　old；　his　wife；　who　had　long　been
languishing　away……of　her　own　inherent　weakness；　not　that　she　retained
any　greater　sensitiveness　as　to　her　place　of　abode　than　he　did……went
upon　a　visit　to　a　poor　friend　and　old　nurse　in　the　country；　and　died
there。　He　remained　shut　up　in　his　room　for　a　fortnight　afterwards；
and　an　attorney's　clerk；　who　was　going　through　the　Insolvent　Court；
engrossed　an　address　of　condolence　to　him；　which　looked　like　a　Lease；
and　which　all　the　prisoners　signed。

When　he　appeared　again　he　was　greyer　（he　had　soon　begun　to　turn　grey）；
and　the　turnkey　noticed　that　his　hands　went　often　to　his　trembling　lips
again；　as　they　had　used　to　do　when　he　first　came　in。

But　he　got　pretty　well　over　it　in　a　month　or　two；　and　in　the　meantime
the　children　played　about　the　yard　as　regularly　as　ever；　but　in　black。

Then　Mrs　Bangham；　long　popular　medium　of　munication　with　the　outer
world；　began　to　be　infirm；　and　to　be　found　oftener　than　usual　atose
on　pavements；　with　her　basket　of　purchases　spilt；　and　the　change　of　her
clients　ninepence　short。　His　son　began　to　supersede　Mrs　Bangham；　and
to　execute　missions　in　a　knowing　manner；　and　to　be　of　the　prison
prisonous；　of　the　streets　streety。

Time　went　on；　and　the　turnkey　began　to　fail。　His　chest　swelled；　and　his
legs　got　weak；　and　he　was　short　of　breath。　The　well…worn　wooden　stool
was　'beyond　him；'　he　plained。　He　sat　in　an　arm…chair　with　a　cushion；
and　sometimes　wheezed　so；　for　minutes　together；　that　he　couldn't　turn
the　key。　When　he　was　overpowered　by　these　fits；　the　debtor　often　turned
it　for　him。　'You　and　me；'　said　the　turnkey；　one　snowy　winter's　night
when　the　lodge；　with　a　bright　fire　in　it；　was　pretty　full　of　pany；
'is　the　oldest　inhabitants。　I　wasn't　here　myself　above　seven　year　before
you。　I　shan't　last　long。　When　I'm　off　the　lock　for　good　and　all；　you'll
be　the　Father　of　the　Marshalsea。'

The　turnkey　went　off　the　lock　of　this　world　next　day。　His　words　were
remembered　and　repeated；　and　tradition　afterwards　handed　down　from
generation　to　generation……a　Marshalsea　generation　might　be　calculated　as
about　three　months……that　the　shabby　old　debtor　with　the　soft　manner　and
the　white　hair；　was　the　Father　of　the　Marshalsea。

And　he　grew　to　be　proud　of　the　title。　If　any　impostor　had　arisen　to
claim　it；　he　would　have　shed　tears　in　resentment　of　the　attempt　to
deprive　him　of　his　rights。　A　disposition　began　to　be　perceived　in　him
to　exaggerate　the　number　of　years　he　had　been　there；　it　was　generally
understood　that　you　must　deduct　a　few　from　his　account；　he　was　vain；　the
fleeting　generations　of　debtors　said。

All　new…ers　were　presented　to　him。　He　was　punctilious　in　the　exaction
of　this　ceremony。　The　wits　would　perform　the　office　of　introduction　with
overcharged　pomp　and　politeness；　but　they　could　not　easily　overstep　his
sense　of　its　gravity。　He　received　them　in　his　poor　room　（he　disliked　an
introduction　in　the　mere　yard；　as　informal……a　thing　that　might　happen
to　anybody）；　with　a　kind　of　bowed…down　beneficence。　They　were　wele　to
the　Marshalsea；　he　would　tell　them。　Yes；　he　was　the　Father　of　the　place。
So　the　world　was　kind　enough　to　call　him；　and　so　he　was；　if　more　than
twenty　years　of　residence　gave　him　a　claim　to　the　title。　It　looked
small　at　first；　but　there　was　very　good　pany　there……among　a
mixture……necessarily　a　mixture……and　very　good　air。

It　became　a　not　unusual　circumstance　for　letters　to　be　put　under　his
door　at　night；　enclosing　half…a…crown；　two　half…crowns；　now　and　then　at
long　intervals　even　half…a…sovereign；　for　the　Father　of　the　Marshalsea。
'With　the　pliments　of　a　collegian　taking　leave。'　He　received　the
gifts　as　tributes；　from　admirers；　to　a　public　character。　Sometimes
these　correspondents　assumed　facetious　names；　as　the　Brick；　Bellows；　Old
Gooseberry；　Wideawake；　Snooks；　Mops；　Cutaway；　the　Dogs…meat　Man；　but　he
considered　this　in　bad　taste；　and　was　always　a　little　hurt　by　it。


In　the　fulness　of　time；　this　correspondence　showing　signs　of　wearing
out；　and　seeming　to　require　an　effort　on　the　part　of　the　correspondents
to　which　in　the　hurried　circumstances　of　departure　many　of　them　might
not　be　equal；　he　established　the　custom　of　attending　collegians　of
a　certain　standing；　to　the　gate；　and　taking　leave　of　them　there。　The
collegian　under　treatment；　after　shaking　hands；　would　occasionally
stop　to　wrap　up　something　in　a　bit　of　paper；　and　would　e　back　again
calling　'Hi！'

He　would　look　round　surprised。'Me？'　he　would　say；　with　a　smile。　By
this　time　the　collegian　would　be　up　with　him；　and　he　would　paternally
add；'What　have　you　forgotten？　What　can　I　do　for　you？'

'I　forgot　to　leave　this；'　the　collegian　would　usually　return；　'for　the
Father　of　the　Marshalsea。'

'My　good　sir；'　he　would　rejoin；　'he　is　infinitely　obliged　to　you。'　But；
to　the　last；　the　irresolute　hand　of　old　would　remain　in　the　pocket　into
which　he　had　slipped　the　money　during　two　or　three　turns　about　the　yard；
lest　the　transaction　should　be　too　conspicuous　to　the　general　body　of
collegians。

One　afternoon　he　had　been　doing　the　honours　of　the　place　to　a　rather
large　party　of　collegians；　who　happened　to　be　going　out；　when；　as　he　was
ing　back；　he　encountered　one　from　the　poor　side　who　had　been　taken　in
execution　for　a　small　sum　a　week　before；　had　'settled'　in　the　course　of
that　afternoon；　and　was　going　out　too。　The　man　was　a　mere　Plasterer　in
his　working　dress；　had　his　wife　with　him；　and　a　bundle；　and　was　in　high
spirits。

'God　bless　you；　sir；'　he　said　in　passing。

'And　you；'　benignantly　returned　the　Father　of　the　Marshalsea。

They　were　pretty　far　divided；　going　their　several　ways；　when　the
Plasterer　called　out；　'I　say！……sir！'　and　came　back　to　him。

'It　ain't　much；'　said　the　Plasterer；　putting　a　little　pile　of　halfpence
in　his　hand；　'but　it's　well　meant。'

The　Father　of　the　Marshalsea　had　never　been　offered　tribute　in　copper
yet。　His　children　often　had；　and　with　his　perfect　acquiescence　it　had
gone　into　the　mon　purse　to　buy　meat　that　he　had　eaten；　and　drink　that
he　had　drunk；　but　fustian　splashed　with　white　lime；　bestowing　halfpence
on　him；　front　to　front；　was　new。

'How　dare　you！'　he　said　to　the　man；　and　feebly　burst　into　tears。

The　Plasterer　turned　him　towards　the　wall；　that　his　face　might　not　be
seen；　and　the　action　was　so　delicate；　and　the　man　was　so　perated　with
repentance；　and　asked　pardon　so　honestly；　that　he　could　make　him　no　less
acknowledgment　than；　'I　know　you　meant　it　kindly。　Say　no　more。'

'Bless　your　soul；　sir；'　urged　the　Plasterer；　'I　did　indeed。　I'd　do　more
by　you　than　the　rest　of　'em　do；　I　fancy。'

'What　would　you　do？'　he　asked。

'I'd　e　back　to　see　you；　after　I　was　let　out。'

'Give　me　the　money　again；'　said　the　other；　eager