little dorrit-信丽(英文版)-第189章

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already　know。

'Whoof！　The　fair　Gowana！'　he　said；　lighting　a　third　cigarette　with　a
sound　as　if　his　lightest　breath　could　blow　her　away。　'Charming；　but
imprudent！　For　it　was　not　well　of　the　fair　Gowana　to　make　mysteries　of
letters　from　old　lovers；　in　her　bedchamber　on　the　mountain；　that　her
husband　might　not　see　them。　No；　no。　That　was　not　well。　Whoof！　The　Gowana
was　mistaken　there。'

'I　earnestly　hope；'　cried　Arthur　aloud；　'that　Pancks　may　not　be　long
gone；　for　this　man's　presence　pollutes　the　room。'

'Ah！　But　he'll　flourish　here；　and　everywhere；'　said　Rigaud；　with　an
exulting　look　and　snap　of　his　fingers。　'He　always　has；　he　always　will！'
Stretching　his　body　out　on　the　only　three　chairs　in　the　room　besides
that　on　which　Clennam　sat；　he　sang；　smiting　himself　on　the　breast　as　the
gallant　personage　of　the　song。


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


'Sing　the　Refrain；　pig！　You　could　sing　it　once；　in　another　jail。　Sing
it！　Or；　by　every　Saint　who　was　stoned　to　death；　I'll　be　affronted　and
promising；　and　then　some　people　who　are　not　dead　yet；　had　better　have
been　stoned　along　with　them！'


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


Partly　in　his　old　habit　of　submission；　partly　because　his　not　doing　it
might　injure　his　benefactor；　and　partly　because　he　would　as　soon　do
it　as　anything　else；　Cavalletto　took　up　the　Refrain　this　time。　Rigaud
laughed；　and　fell　to　smoking　with　his　eyes　shut。

Possibly　another　quarter　of　an　hour　elapsed　before　Mr　Pancks's　step　was
heard　upon　the　stairs；　but　the　interval　seemed　to　Clennam　insupportably
long。　His　step　was　attended　by　another　step；　and　when　Cavalletto　opened
the　door；　he　admitted　Mr　Pancks　and　Mr　Flintwinch。　The　latter　was　no
sooner　visible；　than　Rigaud　rushed　at　him　and　embraced　him　boisterously。

'How　do　you　find　yourself；　sir？'　said　Mr　Flintwinch；　as　soon　as　he　could
disengage　himself；　which　he　struggled　to　do　with　very　little　ceremony。
'Thank　you；　no；　I　don't　want　any　more。'　This　was　in　reference　to　another
menace　of　attention　from　his　recovered　friend。

'Well；　Arthur。　You　remember　what　I　said　to　you　about　sleeping　dogs　and
missing　ones。　It's　e　true；　you　see。'

He　was　as　imperturbable　as　ever；　to　all　appearance；　and　nodded　his　head
in　a　moralising　way　as　he　looked　round　the　room。

'And　this　is　the　Marshalsea　prison　for　debt！'　said　Mr　Flintwinch。　'Hah！
you　have　brought　your　pigs　to　a　very　indifferent　market；　Arthur。'

If　Arthur　had　patience；　Rigaud　had　not。　He　took　his　little　Flintwinch；
with　fierce　playfulness；　by　the　two　lapels　of　his　coat；　and　cried：

'To　the　Devil　with　the　Market；　to　the　Devil　with　the　Pigs；　and　to　the
Devil　with　the　Pig…Driver！　Now！　Give　me　the　answer　to　my　letter。'

'If　you　can　make　it　convenient　to　let　go　a　moment；　sir；'　returned　Mr
Flintwinch；　'I'll　first　hand　Mr　Arthur　a　little　note　that　I　have　for
him。'

He　did　so。　It　was　in　his　mother's　maimed　writing；　on　a　slip　of　paper；
and　contained　only　these　words：

'I　hope　it　is　enough　that　you　have　ruined　yourself。　Rest　contented
without　more　ruin。　Jeremiah　Flintwinch　is　my　messenger　and
representative。　Your　affectionate　M。　C。'

Clennam　read　this　twice；　in　silence；　and　then　tore　it　to　pieces。　Rigaud
in　the　meanwhile　stepped　into　a　chair；　and　sat　himself　on　the　back　with
his　feet　upon　the　seat。

'Now；　Beau　Flintwinch；'　he　said；　when　he　had　closely　watched　the　note　to
its　destruction；　'the　answer　to　my　letter？'

'Mrs　Clennam　did　not　write；　Mr　Blandois；　her　hands　being　cramped；
and　she　thinking　it　as　well　to　send　it　verbally　by　me。'　Mr　Flintwinch
screwed　this　out　of　himself；　unwillingly　and　rustily。　'She　sends
her　pliments；　and　says　she　doesn't　on　the　whole　wish　to　term
you　unreasonable；　and　that　she　agrees。　But　without　prejudicing　the
appointment　that　stands　for　this　day　week。'

Monsieur　Rigaud；　after　indulging　in　a　fit　of　laughter；　descended　from
his　throne；　saying；　'Good！　I　go　to　seek　an　hotel！'　But；　there　his　eyes
encountered　Cavalletto；　who　was　still　at　his　post。

'e；　Pig；'　he　added；　'I　have　had　you　for　a　follower　against　my　will；
now；　I'll　have　you　against　yours。　I　tell　you；　my　little　reptiles；　I
am　born　to　be　served。　I　demand　the　service　of　this　contrabandist　as　my
domestic　until　this　day　week。'

In　answer　to　Cavalletto's　look　of　inquiry；　Clennam　made　him　a　sign
to　go；　but　he　added　aloud；　'unless　you　are　afraid　of　him。'　Cavalletto
replied　with　a　very　emphatic　finger…negative。'No；　master；　I　am　not
afraid　of　him；　when　I　no　more　keep　it　secrettementally　that　he　was　once
my　rade。'　Rigaud　took　no　notice　of　either　remark　until　he　had　lighted
his　last　cigarette　and　was　quite　ready　for　walking。

'Afraid　of　him；'　he　said　then；　looking　round　upon　them　all。　'Whoof！　My
children；　my　babies；　my　little　dolls；　you　are　all　afraid　of　him。　You
give　him　his　bottle　of　wine　here；　you　give　him　meat；　drink；　and　lodging
there；　you　dare　not　touch　him　with　a　finger　or　an　epithet。　No。　It　is　his
character　to　triumph！　Whoof！

'Of　all　the　king's　knights　he's　the　flower；　And　he's　always　gay！'

With　this　adaptation　of　the　Refrain　to　himself；　he　stalked　out　of　the
room　closely　followed　by　Cavalletto；　whom　perhaps　he　had　pressed　into
his　service　because　he　tolerably　well　knew　it　would　not　be　easy　to　get
rid　of　him。　Mr　Flintwinch；　after　scraping　his　chin；　and　looking　about
with　caustic　disparagement　of　the　Pig…Market；　nodded　to　Arthur；　and
followed。　Mr　Pancks；　still　penitent　and　depressed；　followed　too；　after
receiving　with　great　attention　a　secret　word　or　two　of　instructions　from
Arthur；　and　whispering　back　that　he　would　see　this　affair　out；　and　stand
by　it　to　the　end。

The　prisoner；　with　the　feeling　that　he　was　more　despised；　more　scorned
and　repudiated；　more　helpless；　altogether　more　miserable　and　fallen　than
before；　was　left　alone　again。




CHAPTER　29。　A　Plea　in　the　Marshalsea


Haggard　anxiety　and　remorse　are　bad　panions　to　be　barred　up　with。
Brooding　all　day；　and　resting　very　little　indeed　at　night；　t　will　not
arm　a　man　against　misery。　Next　morning；　Clennam　felt　that　his　health　was
sinking；　as　his　spirits　had　already　sunk　and　that　the　weight　under　which
he　bent　was　bearing　him　down。

Night　after　night　he　had　risen　from　his　bed　of　wretchedness　at　twelve　or
one　o'clock；　and　had　sat　at　his　window　watching　the　sickly　lamps　in　the
yard；　and　looking　upward　for　the　first　wan　trace　of　day；　hours　before　it
was　possible　that　the　sky　could　show　it　to　him。　Now　when　the　night　came；
he　could　not　even　persuade　himself　to　undress。

For　a　burning　restlessness　set　in；　an　agonised　impatience　of　the　prison；
and　a　conviction　that　he　was　going　to　break　his　heart　and　die　there；
which　caused　him　indescribable　suffering。　His　dread　and　hatred　of　the
place　became　so　intense　that　he　felt　it　a　labour　to　draw　his　breath　in
it。　The　sensation　of　being　stifled　sometimes　so　overpowered　him；　that
he　would　stand　at　the　window　holding　his　throat　and　gasping。　At　the
same　time　a　longing　for　other　air；　and　a　yearning　to　be　beyond　the　blind
blank　wall；　made　him　feel　as　if　he　must　go　mad　with　the　ardour　of　the
desire。

Many　other　prisoners　had　had　experience　of　this　condition　before　him；
and　its　violence　and　continuity　had　worn　themselves　out　in　their　cases；
as　they　did　in　his。　Two　nights　and　a　day　exhausted　it。　It　came　back　by
fits；　but　those　grew　fainter　and　returned　at　lengthening　intervals。　A
desolate　calm　succeeded；　and　the　middle　of　the　week　found　him　settled
down　in　the　despondency　of　low；　slow　fever。

With　Cavalletto　and　Pancks　away；　he　had　no　visitors　to　fear　but　Mr　and
Mrs　Plornish。　His　anxiety；　in　reference　to　that　worthy　pair；　was　that
they　should　not　e　near　him；　for；　in　the　morbid　state　of　his　nerves；
he　sought　to　be　left　alone；　and　spared　the　being　seen　so　subdued　and
weak。　He　wrote　a　note　to　Mrs　Plornish　representing　himself　as　occupied
with　his　affairs；　and　bound　by　the　necessity　of　devoting　himself　to
them；　to　remain　for　a　time　even　without　the　pleasant　interruption　of
a　sight　of　her　kind　face。　As　to　Young　John；　who　looked　in　daily　at　a
certain　hour；　when　the　turnkeys　were　relieved；　to　ask　if　he　could　do
anything　for　him；　he　always　made　a　pretence　of　being　engaged　in　writing；
and　to　answer　cheerfully　in　the　negative。　The　subject　of　their　only
long　conversation　had　never　been　revived　between　them。　Through　all　these
changes　of　unhappiness；　however；　it　had　never　lost　its　hold　on　Clennam's
mind。

The　sixth　day　of　the　appointed　week　was　a　moist；　hot；　misty　day。　It
seemed　as　though　the　prison's　poverty；　and　shabbiness；　and　dirt；　were
growing　in　the　sultry　atmosphere。　With　an　aching　head　and　a　weary　heart；
Clennam　had　watched　the　miserable　night　out；　listening　to　the　fall　of
rain　on　the　yard　pavement；　thinking　of　its　softer　fall　upon　the　country
earth。　A　blurred　circle　of　yellow　haze　had　risen　up　in　the　sky　in　lieu
of　sun；　and　he　had　watched　the　patch　it　put　upon　his　wall；　like　a　bit　of
the　prison's　raggedness。　He　had　heard　the　gates　open；　and　the　badly　shod
feet　that　waited　outside　shuffle　in；　and