little dorrit-信丽(英文版)-第41章

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fault　to　find　with　the　old　lady　for　eliciting　it；　now　that　he　was
relieved　from　the　terrors　of　her　presence；　and　they　took　a　glass　or
two　of　wine　in　peace。　Foreseeing　then　that　the　Pancks　would　shortly　get
under　weigh；　and　that　the　Patriarch　would　go　to　sleep；　he　pleaded　the
necessity　of　visiting　his　mother；　and　asked　Mr　Pancks　in　which　direction
he　was　going？

'Citywards；　sir；'　said　Pancks。　'Shall　we　walk　together？'　said　Arthur。

'Quite　agreeable；'　said　Pancks。

Meanwhile　Flora　was　murmuring　in　rapid　snatches　for　his　ear；　that　there
was　a　time　and　that　the　past　was　a　yawning　gulf　however　and　that　a
golden　chain　no　longer　bound　him　and　that　she　revered　the　memory　of　the
late　Mr　F。　and　that　she　should　be　at　home　to…morrow　at　half…past　one
and　that　the　decrees　of　Fate　were　beyond　recall　and　that　she　considered
nothing　so　improbable　as　that　he　ever　walked　on　the　north…west　side　of
Gray's…Inn　Gardens　at　exactly　four　o'clock　in　the　afternoon。　He　tried
at　parting　to　give　his　hand　in　frankness　to　the　existing　Flora……not　the
vanished　Flora；　or　the　mermaid……but　Flora　wouldn't　have　it；　couldn't
have　it；　was　wholly　destitute　of　the　power　of　separating　herself　and　him
from　their　bygone　characters。　He　left　the　house　miserably　enough；　and
so　much　more　light…headed　than　ever；　that　if　it　had　not　been　his　good
fortune　to　be　towed　away；　he　might；　for　the　first　quarter　of　an　hour；
have　drifted　anywhere。

When　he　began　to　e　to　himself；　in　the　cooler　air　and　the　absence　of
Flora；　he　found　Pancks　at　full　speed；　cropping　such　scanty　pasturage　of
nails　as　he　could　find；　and　snorting　at　intervals。　These；　in　conjunction
with　one　hand　in　his　pocket　and　his　roughened　hat　hind　side　before；　were
evidently　the　conditions　under　which　he　reflected。

'A　fresh　night！'　said　Arthur。

'Yes；　it's　pretty　fresh；'　assented　Pancks。　'As　a　stranger　you　feel　the
climate　more　than　I　do；　I　dare　say。　Indeed　I　haven't　got　time　to　feel
it。'

'You　lead　such　a　busy　life？'

'Yes；　I　have　always　some　of　'em　to　look　up；　or　something　to　look　after。
But　I　like　business；'　said　Pancks；　getting　on　a　little　faster。　'What's　a
man　made　for？'

'For　nothing　else？'　said　Clennam。

Pancks　put　the　counter　question；　'What　else？'　It　packed　up；　in　the
smallest　pass；　a　weight　that　had　rested　on　Clennam's　life；　and　he
made　no　answer。

'That's　what　I　ask　our　weekly　tenants；'　said　Pancks。　'Some　of　'em　will
pull　long　faces　to　me；　and　say；　Poor　as　you　see　us；　master；　we're　always
grinding；　drudging；　toiling；　every　minute　we're　awake。

I　say　to　them；　What　else　are　you　made　for？　It　shuts　them　up。　They
haven't　a　word　to　answer。　What　else　are　you　made　for？　That　clinches　it。'

'Ah　dear；　dear；　dear！'　sighed　Clennam。

'Here　am　I；'　said　Pancks；　pursuing　his　argument　with　the　weekly　tenant。
'What　else　do　you　suppose　I　think　I　am　made　for？　Nothing。

Rattle　me　out　of　bed　early；　set　me　going；　give　me　as　short　a　time　as　you
like　to　bolt　my　meals　in；　and　keep　me　at　it。　Keep　me　always　at　it；　and
I'll　keep　you　always　at　it；　you　keep　somebody　else　always　at　it。　There
you　are　with　the　Whole　Duty　of　Man　in　a　mercial　country。'

When　they　had　walked　a　little　further　in　silence；　Clennam　said：　'Have
you　no　taste　for　anything；　Mr　Pancks？'

'What's　taste？'　drily　retorted　Pancks。

'Let　us　say　inclination。'

'I　have　an　inclination　to　get　money；　sir；'　said　Pancks；　'if　you　will
show　me　how。'　He　blew　off　that　sound　again；　and　it　occurred　to　his
panion　for　the　first　time　that　it　was　his　way　of　laughing。　He　was　a
singular　man　in　all　respects；　he　might　not　have　been　quite　in　earnest；
but　that　the　short；　hard；　rapid　manner　in　which　he　shot　out　these
cinders　of　principles；　as　if　it　were　done　by　mechanical　revolvency；
seemed　irreconcilable　with　banter。

'You　are　no　great　reader；　I　suppose？'　said　Clennam。

'Never　read　anything　but　letters　and　accounts。　Never　collect　anything
but　advertisements　relative　to　next　of　kin。　If　that's　a　taste；　I　have
got　that。　You're　not　of　the　Clennams　of　Cornwall；　Mr　Clennam？'

'Not　that　I　ever　heard　of。'　'I　know　you're　not。　I　asked　your　mother；
sir。　She　has　too　much　character　to　let　a　chance　escape　her。'

'Supposing　I　had　been　of　the　Clennams　of　Cornwall？'　'You'd　have　heard　of
something　to　your　advantage。'

'Indeed！　I　have　heard　of　little　enough　to　my　advantage　for　some　time。'

'There's　a　Cornish　property　going　a　begging；　sir；　and　not　a　Cornish
Clennam　to　have　it　for　the　asking；'　said　Pancks；　taking　his　note…book
from　his　breast　pocket　and　putting　it　in　again。　'I　turn　off　here。　I　wish
you　good　night。'

'Good　night！'　said　Clennam。　But　the　Tug；　suddenly　lightened；　and
untrammelled　by　having　any　weight　in　tow；　was　already　puffing　away　into
the　distance。

They　had　crossed　Smithfield　together；　and　Clennam　was　left　alone　at　the
corner　of　Barbican。　He　had　no　intention　of　presenting　himself　in　his
mother's　dismal　room　that　night；　and　could　not　have　felt　more　depressed
and　cast　away　if　he　had　been　in　a　wilderness。　He　turned　slowly　down
Aldersgate　Street；　and　was　pondering　his　way　along　towards　Saint　Paul's；
purposing　to　e　into　one　of　the　great　thoroughfares　for　the　sake　of
their　light　and　life；　when　a　crowd　of　people　flocked　towards　him　on　the
same　pavement；　and　he　stood　aside　against　a　shop　to　let　them　pass。　As
they　came　up；　he　made　out　that　they　were　gathered　around　a　something
that　was　carried　on　men's　shoulders。　He　soon　saw　that　it　was　a　litter；
hastily　made　of　a　shutter　or　some　such　thing；　and　a　recumbent　figure
upon　it；　and　the　scraps　of　conversation　in　the　crowd；　and　a　muddy　bundle
carried　by　one　man；　and　a　muddy　hat　carried　by　another；　informed　him
that　an　accident　had　occurred。　The　litter　stopped　under　a　lamp　before　it
had　passed　him　half…a…dozen　paces；　for　some　readjustment　of　the　burden；
and；　the　crowd　stopping　too；　he　found　himself　in　the　midst　of　the　array。

'An　accident　going　to　the　Hospital？'　he　asked　an　old　man　beside　him；　who
stood　shaking　his　head；　inviting　conversation。

'Yes；'　said　the　man；　'along　of　them　Mails。　They　ought　to　be　prosecuted
and　fined；　them　Mails。　They　e　a　racing　out　of　Lad　Lane　and　Wood
Street　at　twelve　or　fourteen　mile　a　hour；　them　Mails　do。　The　only　wonder
is；　that　people　ain't　killed　oftener　by　them　Mails。'

'This　person　is　not　killed；　I　hope？'

'I　don't　know！'　said　the　man；　'it　an't　for　the　want　of　a　will　in　them
Mails；　if　he　an't。'　The　speaker　having　folded　his　arms；　and　set　in
fortably　to　address　his　depreciation　of　them　Mails　to　any　of　the
bystanders　who　would　listen；　several　voices；　out　of　pure　sympathy　with
the　sufferer；　confirmed　him；　one　voice　saying　to　Clennam；　'They're　a
public　nuisance；　them　Mails；　sir；'　another；　'I　see　one　on　'em　pull　up
within　half　a　inch　of　a　boy；　last　night；'　another；　'I　see　one　on　'em
go　over　a　cat；　sir……and　it　might　have　been　your　own　mother；'　and　all
representing；　by　implication；　that　if　he　happened　to　possess　any　public
influence；　he　could　not　use　it　better　than　against　them　Mails。

'Why；　a　native　Englishman　is　put　to　it　every　night　of　his　life；　to　save
his　life　from　them　Mails；'　argued　the　first　old　man；　'and　he　knows　when
they're　a　ing　round　the　corner；　to　tear　him　limb　from　limb。　What　can
you　expect　from　a　poor　foreigner　who　don't　know　nothing　about　'em！'

'Is　this　a　foreigner？'　said　Clennam；　leaning　forward　to　look。

In　the　midst　of　such　replies　as　'Frenchman；　sir；'　'Porteghee；　sir；'
'Dutchman；　sir；'　'Prooshan；　sir；'　and　other　conflicting　testimony；　he
now　heard　a　feeble　voice　asking；　both　in　Italian　and　in　French；　for
water。　A　general　remark　going　round；　in　reply；　of　'Ah；　poor　fellow；
he　says　he'll　never　get　over　it；　and　no　wonder！'　Clennam　begged　to　be
allowed　to　pass；　as　he　understood　the　poor　creature。　He　was　immediately
handed　to　the　front；　to　speak　to　him。

'First；　he　wants　some　water；'　said　he；　looking　round。　（A　dozen　good
fellows　dispersed　to　get　it。）　'Are　you　badly　hurt；　my　friend？'　he　asked
the　man　on　the　litter；　in　Italian。

'Yes；　sir；　yes；　yes；　yes。　It's　my　leg；　it's　my　leg。　But　it　pleases　me　to
hear　the　old　music；　though　I　am　very　bad。'

'You　are　a　traveller！　Stay！　See；　the　water！　Let　me　give　you　some。'　They
had　rested　the　litter　on　a　pile　of　paving　stones。　It　was　at　a　convenient
height　from　the　ground；　and　by　stooping　he　could　lightly　raise　the　head
with　one　hand　and　hold　the　glass　to　his　lips　with　the　other。　A　little；
muscular；　brown　man；　with　black　hair　and　white　teeth。　A　lively　face；
apparently。　Earrings　in　his　ears。

'That's　well。　You　are　a　traveller？'

'Surely；　sir。'

'A　stranger　in　this　city？'

'Surely；　surely；　altogether。　I　am　arrived　this　unhappy　evening。'

'From　what　country？'　'Marseilles。'

'Why；　see　there！　I　also！　Almost　as　much　a　stranger　here　as　you；　though
born　here；　I　came　from　Marseilles　a　little　while　ago。　Don't　be　cast
down。'　The　face　looked　up　at　him　imploringly；　as　he　rose　from　wiping　it；
and　gently　replaced　the　coat　that　covered　the　writhing　figure。　'I　won't
leave　you　till　you　shall　be　well　taken　care　of。　Courage！　You　will　be
very　much　better　half　an　hour　hence。'

'Ah！　Altro；　Altro！'　cried　the　poor　little　man；　in　a　faintly　incredulous
tone；　and　as　they　took　him　up；　hung　out　his　right　hand　to　give　the
forefinger　a　back…handed　shake　in