little dorrit-信丽(英文版)-第4章

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your　lawyers　live……your　politicians……your　intriguers……your　men　of　the
Exchange？'

He　kept　his　small　smooth　hand　in　constant　requisition；　as　if　it　were　a
witness　to　his　gentility　that　had　often　done　him　good　service　before。

'Two　years　ago　I　came　to　Marseilles。　I　admit　that　I　was　poor；　I　had　been
ill。　When　your　lawyers；　your　politicians；　your　intriguers；　your　men　of
the　Exchange　fall　ill；　and　have　not　scraped　money　together；　they　bee
poor。　I　put　up　at　the　Cross　of　Gold；……kept　then　by　Monsieur　Henri
Barronneau……sixty…five　at　least；　and　in　a　failing　state　of　health。　I　had
lived　in　the　house　some　four　months　when　Monsieur　Henri　Barronneau　had
the　misfortune　to　die；……at　any　rate；　not　a　rare　misfortune；　that。　It
happens　without　any　aid　of　mine；　pretty　often。'

John　Baptist　having　smoked　his　cigarette　down　to　his　fingers'　ends；
Monsieur　Rigaud　had　the　magnanimity　to　throw　him　another。　He　lighted　the
second　at　the　ashes　of　the　first；　and　smoked　on；　looking　sideways　at　his
panion；　who；　preoccupied　with　his　own　case；　hardly　looked　at　him。

'Monsieur　Barronneau　left　a　widow。　She　was　two…and…twenty。　She　had
gained　a　reputation　for　beauty；　and　（which　is　often　another　thing）　was
beautiful。　I　continued　to　live　at　the　Cross　of　Gold。　I　married　Madame
Barronneau。　It　is　not　for　me　to　say　whether　there　was　any　great
disparity　in　such　a　match。　Here　I　stand；　with　the　contamination　of　a
jail　upon　me；　but　it　is　possible　that　you　may　think　me　better　suited　to
her　than　her　former　husband　was。'

He　had　a　certain　air　of　being　a　handsome　man……which　he　was　not；　and
a　certain　air　of　being　a　well…bred　man……which　he　was　not。　It　was　mere
swagger　and　challenge；　but　in　this　particular；　as　in　many　others；
blustering　assertion　goes　for　proof；　half　over　the　world。

'Be　it　as　it　may；　Madame　Barronneau　approved　of　me。　That　is　not　to
prejudice　me；　I　hope？'

His　eye　happening　to　light　upon　John　Baptist　with　this　inquiry；　that
little　man　briskly　shook　his　head　in　the　negative；　and　repeated　in　an
argumentative　tone　under　his　breath；　altro；　altro；　altro；　altro……an
infinite　number　of　times。

'Now　came　the　difficulties　of　our　position。　I　am　proud。　I　say　nothing
in　defence　of　pride；　but　I　am　proud。　It　is　also　my　character　to　govern。
I　can't　submit；　I　must　govern。　Unfortunately；　the　property　of　Madame
Rigaud　was　settled　upon　herself。　Such　was　the　insane　act　of　her　late
husband。　More　unfortunately　still；　she　had　relations。　When　a　wife's
relations　interpose　against　a　husband　who　is　a　gentleman；　who　is　proud；
and　who　must　govern；　the　consequences　are　inimical　to　peace。　There
was　yet　another　source　of　difference　between　us。　Madame　Rigaud　was
unfortunately　a　little　vulgar。　I　sought　to　improve　her　manners　and
ameliorate　her　general　tone；　she　（supported　in　this　likewise　by　her
relations）　resented　my　endeavours。　Quarrels　began　to　arise　between　us；
and；　propagated　and　exaggerated　by　the　slanders　of　the　relations　of
Madame　Rigaud；　to　bee　notorious　to　the　neighbours。　It　has　been　said
that　I　treated　Madame　Rigaud　with　cruelty。　I　may　have　been　seen　to　slap
her　face……nothing　more。　I　have　a　light　hand；　and　if　I　have　been　seen
apparently　to　correct　Madame　Rigaud　in　that　manner；　I　have　done　it
almost　playfully。'

If　the　playfulness　of　Monsieur　Rigaud　were　at　all　expressed　by　his　smile
at　this　point；　the　relations　of　Madame　Rigaud　might　have　said　that
they　would　have　much　preferred　his　correcting　that　unfortunate　woman
seriously。

'I　am　sensitive　and　brave。　I　do　not　advance　it　as　a　merit　to　be
sensitive　and　brave；　but　it　is　my　character。　If　the　male　relations　of
Madame　Rigaud　had　put　themselves　forward　openly；　I　should　have　known　how
to　deal　with　them。　They　knew　that；　and　their　machinations　were　conducted
in　secret；　consequently；　Madame　Rigaud　and　I　were　brought　into　frequent
and　unfortunate　collision。　Even　when　I　wanted　any　little　sum　of　money
for　my　personal　expenses；　I　could　not　obtain　it　without　collision……and
I；　too；　a　man　whose　character　it　is　to　govern！　One　night；　Madame　Rigaud
and　myself　were　walking　amicably……I　may　say　like　lovers……on　a　height
overhanging　the　sea。　An　evil　star　occasioned　Madame　Rigaud　to　advert　to
her　relations；　I　reasoned　with　her　on　that　subject；　and　remonstrated　on
the　want　of　duty　and　devotion　manifested　in　her　allowing　herself　to　be
influenced　by　their　jealous　animosity　towards　her　husband。　Madame　Rigaud
retorted；　I　retorted；　Madame　Rigaud　grew　warm；　I　grew　warm；　and　provoked
her。　I　admit　it。　Frankness　is　a　part　of　my　character。　At　length；　Madame
Rigaud；　in　an　access　of　fury　that　I　must　ever　deplore；　threw　herself
upon　me　with　screams　of　passion　（no　doubt　those　that　were　overheard
at　some　distance）；　tore　my　clothes；　tore　my　hair；　lacerated　my　hands；
trampled　and　trod　the　dust；　and　finally　leaped　over；　dashing　herself　to
death　upon　the　rocks　below。　Such　is　the　train　of　incidents　which
malice　has　perverted　into　my　endeavouring　to　force　from　Madame　Rigaud
a　relinquishment　of　her　rights；　and；　on　her　persistence　in　a　refusal　to
make　the　concession　I　required；　struggling　with　her……assassinating　her！'

He　stepped　aside　to　the　ledge　where　the　vine　leaves　yet　lay　strewn
about；　collected　two　or　three；　and　stood　wiping　his　hands　upon　them；
with　his　back　to　the　light。

'Well；'　he　demanded　after　a　silence；　'have　you　nothing　to　say　to　all
that？'

'It's　ugly；'　returned　the　little　man；　who　had　risen；　and　was　brightening
his　knife　upon　his　shoe；　as　he　leaned　an　arm　against　the　wall。

'What　do　you　mean？'　John　Baptist　polished　his　knife　in　silence。

'Do　you　mean　that　I　have　not　represented　the　case　correctly？'

'Al…tro！'　returned　John　Baptist。　The　word　was　an　apology　now；　and　stood
for　'Oh；　by　no　means！'

'What　then？'

'Presidents　and　tribunals　are　so　prejudiced。'

'Well；'　cried　the　other；　uneasily　flinging　the　end　of　his　cloak　over　his
shoulder　with　an　oath；　'let　them　do　their　worst！'

'Truly　I　think　they　will；'　murmured　John　Baptist　to　himself；　as　he　bent
his　head　to　put　his　knife　in　his　sash。

Nothing　more　was　said　on　either　side；　though　they　both　began　walking
to　and　fro；　and　necessarily　crossed　at　every　turn。　Monsieur　Rigaud
sometimes　stopped；　as　if　he　were　going　to　put　his　case　in　a　new　light；
or　make　some　irate　remonstrance；　but　Signor　Cavalletto　continuing　to
go　slowly　to　and　fro　at　a　grotesque　kind　of　jog…trot　pace　with　his　eyes
turned　downward；　nothing　came　of　these　inclinings。

By…and…by　the　noise　of　the　key　in　the　lock　arrested　them　both。　The　sound
of　voices　succeeded；　and　the　tread　of　feet。　The　door　clashed；　the　voices
and　the　feet　came　on；　and　the　prison…keeper　slowly　ascended　the　stairs；
followed　by　a　guard　of　soldiers。

'Now；　Monsieur　Rigaud；'　said　he；　pausing　for　a　moment　at　the　grate；　with
his　keys　in　his　hands；　'have　the　goodness　to　e　out。'

'I　am　to　depart　in　state；　I　see？'　'Why；　unless　you　did；'　returned　the
jailer；　'you　might　depart　in　so　many　pieces　that　it　would　be　difficult
to　get　you　together　again。　There's　a　crowd；　Monsieur　Rigaud；　and　it
doesn't　love　you。'

He　passed　on　out　of　sight；　and　unlocked　and　unbarred　a　low　door　in　the
corner　of　the　chamber。　'Now；'　said　he；　as　he　opened　it　and　appeared
within；　'e　out。'

There　is　no　sort　of　whiteness　in　all　the　hues　under　the　sun　at　all　like
the　whiteness　of　Monsieur　Rigaud's　face　as　it　was　then。　Neither　is　there
any　expression　of　the　human　countenance　at　all　like　that　expression　in
every　little　line　of　which　the　frightened　heart　is　seen　to　beat。　Both
are　conventionally　pared　with　death；　but　the　difference　is　the　whole
deep　gulf　between　the　struggle　done；　and　the　fight　at　its　most　desperate
extremity。

He　lighted　another　of　his　paper　cigars　at　his　panion's；　put　it
tightly　between　his　teeth；　covered　his　head　with　a　soft　slouched　hat；
threw　the　end　of　his　cloak　over　his　shoulder　again；　and　walked　out　into
the　side　gallery　on　which　the　door　opened；　without　taking　any　further
notice　of　Signor　Cavalletto。　As　to　that　little　man　himself；　his　whole
attention　had　bee　absorbed　in　getting　near　the　door　and　looking　out
at　it。　Precisely　as　a　beast　might　approach　the　opened　gate　of　his　den
and　eye　the　freedom　beyond；　he　passed　those　few　moments　in　watching　and
peering；　until　the　door　was　closed　upon　him。

There　was　an　officer　in　mand　of　the　soldiers；　a　stout；　serviceable；
profoundly　calm　man；　with　his　drawn　sword　in　his　hand；　smoking　a　cigar。
He　very　briefly　directed　the　placing　of　Monsieur　Rigaud　in　the　midst　of
the　party；　put　himself　with　consummate　indifference　at　their　head；　gave
the　word　'march！'　and　so　they　all　went　jingling　down　the　staircase。　The
door　clashed……the　key　turned……and　a　ray　of　unusual　light；　and　a　breath
of　unusual　air；　seemed　to　have　passed　through　the　jail；　vanishing　in　a
tiny　wreath　of　smoke　from　the　cigar。

Still；　in　his　captivity；　like　a　lower　animal……like　some　impatient　ape；
or　roused　bear　of　the　smaller　species……the　prisoner；　now　left　solitary；
had　jumped　upon　the　ledge；　to　lose　no　glimpse　of　this　departure。　As　he
yet　stood　clasping　the　grate　with　both　hands；　an　uproar　broke　upon　his
hearing；　yells；　shrieks；　oaths；　threats；　execrations；　all　prehended
in　it；　though　（as　in　a　storm）　nothing　but　a　raging　swell　of　sound
distinctly　heard。

Excited