little dorrit-信丽(英文版)-第170章

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you　never　will。'

'At　least；　I'll　try；'　said　Clennam。　'It　will　do　me　no　harm　to　try。'

'I　am　not　certain　of　that；'　rejoined　Doyce；　laying　his　hand　persuasively
on　his　shoulder。　'It　has　done　me　harm；　my　friend。　It　has　aged　me；　tired
me；　vexed　me；　disappointed　me。　It　does　no　man　any　good　to　have　his
patience　worn　out；　and　to　think　himself　ill…used。　I　fancy；　even　already；
that　unavailing　attendance　on　delays　and　evasions　has　made　you　something
less　elastic　than　you　used　to　be。'

'Private　anxieties　may　have　done　that　for　the　moment；'　said　Clennam；
'but　not　official　harrying。　Not　yet。　I　am　not　hurt　yet。'

'Then　you　won't　grant　my　request？'

'Decidedly；　No；'　said　Clennam。　'I　should　be　ashamed　if　I　submitted　to
be　so　soon　driven　out　of　the　field；　where　a　much　older　and　a　much　more
sensitively　interested　man　contended　with　fortitude　so　long。'

As　there　was　no　moving　him；　Daniel　Doyce　returned　the　grasp　of　his　hand；
and；　casting　a　farewell　look　round　the　counting…house；　went　down…stairs
with　him。　Doyce　was　to　go　to　Southampton　to　join　the　small　staff　of
his　fellow…travellers；　and　a　coach　was　at　the　gate；　well　furnished　and
packed；　and　ready　to　take　him　there。　The　workmen　were　at　the　gate　to　see
him　off；　and　were　mightily　proud　of　him。　'Good　luck　to　you；　Mr　Doyce！'
said　one　of　the　number。　'Wherever　you　go；　they'll　find　as　they've　got　a
man　among　'em；　a　man　as　knows　his　tools　and　as　his　tools　knows；　a　man
as　is　willing　and　a　man　as　is　able；　and　if　that's　not　a　man；　where　is
a　man！'　This　oration　from　a　gruff　volunteer　in　the　back…ground；　not
previously　suspected　of　any　powers　in　that　way；　was　received　with　three
loud　cheers；　and　the　speaker　became　a　distinguished　character　for　ever
afterwards。　In　the　midst　of　the　three　loud　cheers；　Daniel　gave　them　all
a　hearty　'Good　Bye；　Men！'　and　the　coach　disappeared　from　sight；　as　if
the　concussion　of　the　air　had　blown　it　out　of　Bleeding　Heart　Yard。

Mr　Baptist；　as　a　grateful　little　fellow　in　a　position　of　trust；　was
among　the　workmen；　and　had　done　as　much　towards　the　cheering　as　a　mere
foreigner　could。　In　truth；　no　men　on　earth　can　cheer　like　Englishmen；
who　do　so　rally　one　another's　blood　and　spirit　when　they　cheer　in
earnest；　that　the　stir　is　like　the　rush　of　their　whole　history；　with　all
its　standards　waving　at　once；　from　Saxon　Alfred's　downwards。　Mr　Baptist
had　been　in　a　manner　whirled　away　before　the　onset；　and　was　taking　his
breath　in　quite　a　scared　condition　when　Clennam　beckoned　him　to　follow
up…stairs；　and　return　the　books　and　papers　to　their　places。

In　the　lull　consequent　on　the　departure……in　that　first　vacuity　which
ensues　on　every　separation；　foreshadowing　the　great　separation　that
is　always　overhanging　all　mankind……Arthur　stood　at　his　desk；　looking
dreamily　out　at　a　gleam　of　sun。　But　his　liberated　attention　soon
reverted　to　the　theme　that　was　foremost　in　his　thoughts；　and　began；　for
the　hundredth　time；　to　dwell　upon　every　circumstance　that　had　impressed
itself　upon　his　mind　on　the　mysterious　night　when　he　had　seen　the　man　at
his　mother's。　Again　the　man　jostled　him　in　the　crooked　street；　again
he　followed　the　man　and　lost　him；　again　he　came　upon　the　man　in　the
court…yard　looking　at　the　house；　again　he　followed　the　man　and　stood
beside　him　on　the　door…steps。


　　　　　'Who　passes　by　this　road　so　late？
　　　　　　　　　　pagnon　de　la　Majolaine；
　　　　　Who　passes　by　this　road　so　late？
　　　　　　　　　　Always　gay！'


It　was　not　the　first　time；　by　many；　that　he　had　recalled　the　song　of　the
child's　game；　of　which　the　fellow　had　hummed　@　verse　while　they　stood
side　by　side；　but　he　was　so　unconscious　of　having　repeated　it　audibly；
that　he　started　to　hear　the　next　verse。


　　　　　'Of　all　the　king's　knights　'tis　the　flower；
　　　　　　　　　　pagnon　de　la　Majolaine；
　　　　　Of　all　the　king's　knights　'tis　the　flower；
　　　　　　　　　　Always　gay！'


Cavalletto　had　deferentially　suggested　the　words　and　tune；　supposing　him
to　have　stopped　short　for　want　of　more。

'Ah！　You　know　the　song；　Cavalletto？'

'By　Bacchus；　yes；　sir！　They　all　know　it　in　France。　I　have　heard　it　many
times；　sung　by　the　little　children。　The　last　time　when　it　I　have　heard；'
said　Mr　Baptist；　formerly　Cavalletto；　who　usually　went　back　to　his
native　construction　of　sentences　when　his　memory　went　near　home；　'is
from　a　sweet　little　voice。　A　little　voice；　very　pretty；　very　innocent。
Altro！'

'The　last　time　I　heard　it；'　returned　Arthur；　'was　in　a　voice　quite　the
reverse　of　pretty；　and　quite　the　reverse　of　innocent。'　He　said　it　more
to　himself　than　to　his　panion；　and　added　to　himself；　repeating
the　man's　next　words。　'Death　of　my　life；　sir；　it's　my　character　to　be
impatient！'

'EH！'　cried　Cavalletto；　astounded；　and　with　all　his　colour　gone　in　a
moment。

'What　is　the　matter？'

'Sir！　You　know　where　I　have　heard　that　song　the　last　time？'

With　his　rapid　native　action；　his　hands　made　the　outline　of　a　high　hook
nose；　pushed　his　eyes　near　together；　dishevelled　his　hair；　puffed　out
his　upper　lip　to　represent　a　thick　moustache；　and　threw　the　heavy　end
of　an　ideal　cloak　over　his　shoulder。　While　doing　this；　with　a　swiftness
incredible　to　one　who　has　not　watched　an　Italian　peasant；　he　indicated　a
very　remarkable　and　sinister　smile。

The　whole　change　passed　over　him　like　a　flash　of　light；　and　he　stood　in
the　same　instant；　pale　and　astonished；　before　his　patron。

'In　the　name　of　Fate　and　wonder；'　said　Clennam；　'what　do　you　mean？　Do
you　know　a　man　of　the　name　of　Blandois？'

'No！'　said　Mr　Baptist；　shaking　his　head。

'You　have　just　now　described　a　man　who　was　by　when　you　heard　that　song；
have　you　not？'

'Yes！'　said　Mr　Baptist；　nodding　fifty　times。

'And　was　he　not　called　Blandois？'

'No！'　said　Mr　Baptist。　'Altro；　Altro；　Altro；　Altro！'　He　could　not　reject
the　name　sufficiently；　with　his　head　and　his　right　forefinger　going　at
once。

'Stay！'　cried　Clennam；　spreading　out　the　handbill　on　his　desk。　'Was　this
the　man？　You　can　understand　what　I　read　aloud？'

'Altogether。　Perfectly。'

'But　look　at　it；　too。　e　here　and　look　over　me；　while　I　read。'

Mr　Baptist　approached；　followed　every　word　with　his　quick　eyes；　saw
and　heard　it　all　out　with　the　greatest　impatience；　then　clapped　his
two　hands　flat　upon　the　bill　as　if　he　had　fiercely　caught　some　noxious
creature；　and　cried；　looking　eagerly　at　Clennam；　'It　is　the　man！　Behold
him！'

'This　is　of　far　greater　moment　to　me'　said　Clennam；　in　great　agitation；
'than　you　can　imagine。　Tell　me　where　you　knew　the　man。'

Mr　Baptist；　releasing　the　paper　very　slowly　and　with　much　disfiture；
and　drawing　himself　back　two　or　three　paces；　and　making　as　though　he
dusted　his　hands；　returned；　very　much　against　his　will：

'At　Marsiglia……Marseilles。'

'What　was　he？'

'A　prisoner；　and……Altro！　I　believe　yes！……an；'　Mr　Baptist　crept　closer
again　to　whisper　it；　'Assassin！'

Clennam　fell　back　as　if　the　word　had　struck　him　a　blow：　so　terrible
did　it　make　his　mother's　munication　with　the　man　appear。
Cavalletto　dropped　on　one　knee；　and　implored　him；　with　a　redundancy　of
gesticulation；　to　hear　what　had　brought　himself　into　such　foul　pany。

He　told　with　perfect　truth　how　it　had　e　of　a　little　contraband
trading；　and　how　he　had　in　time　been　released　from　prison；　and　how　he
had　gone　away　from　those　antecedents。　How；　at　the　house　of　entertainment
called　the　Break　of　Day　at　Chalons　on　the　Saone；　he　had　been　awakened
in　his　bed　at　night　by　the　same　assassin；　then　assuming　the　name　of
Lagnier；　though　his　name　had　formerly　been　Rigaud；　how　the　assassin　had
proposed　that　they　should　join　their　fortunes　together；　how　he　held
the　assassin　in　such　dread　and　aversion　that　he　had　fled　from　him　at
daylight；　and　how　he　had　ever　since　been　haunted　by　the　fear　of　seeing
the　assassin　again　and　being　claimed　by　him　as　an　acquaintance。　When　he
had　related　this；　with　an　emphasis　and　poise　on　the　word；　'assassin；'
peculiarly　belonging　to　his　own　language；　and　which　did　not　serve　to
render　it　less　terrible　to　Clennam；　he　suddenly　sprang　to　his　feet；
pounced　upon　the　bill　again；　and　with　a　vehemence　that　would　have　been
absolute　madness　in　any　man　of　Northern　origin；　cried　'Behold　the　same
assassin！　Here　he　is！'

In　his　passionate　raptures；　he　at　first　forgot　the　fact　that　he　had
lately　seen　the　assassin　in　London。　On　his　remembering　it；　it　suggested
hope　to　Clennam　that　the　recognition　might　be　of　later　date　than　the
night　of　the　visit　at　his　mother's；　but　Cavalletto　was　too　exact　and
clear　about　time　and　place；　to　leave　any　opening　for　doubt　that　it　had
preceded　that　occasion。

'Listen；'　said　Arthur；　very　seriously。　'This　man；　as　we　have　read　here；
has　wholly　disappeared。'

'Of　it　I　am　well　content！'　said　Cavalletto；　raising　his　eyes　piously。　'A
thousand　thanks　to　Heaven！　Accursed　assassin！'

'Not　so；'　returned　Clennam；　'for　until　something　more　is　heard　of　him；　I
can　never　know　an　hour's　peace。'

'Enough；　Benefactor；　that　is　quite　another　thing。　A　million　of　excuses！'

'Now；　Cavalletto；'　said　Clennam；　gently　turning　him　by　the　arm；　so　that
they　looked　into　each　other's　eyes。　'I　am　certain　that　for　the　little
I　have　been　able　to　do　for　you；　you　are　the　most　sincerely　grateful　of
men。'

'I　swear　it！'　cried　the　other。

'I　know　it。　If