按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
sixpences。' These remarks were not less favourably received by Mr Dorrit
than their predecessors。 They were the prelude to the first reception of
Mr and Mrs Gowan at dinner； and they skilfully placed Gowan on his usual
ground in the new family。
His wife； too； they placed on her usual ground。 Miss Fanny understood；
with particular distinctness； that Mrs Gowan's good looks had cost her
husband very dear； that there had been a great disturbance about her
in the Barnacle family； and that the Dowager Mrs Gowan； nearly
heart…broken； had resolutely set her face against the marriage until
overpowered by her maternal feelings。 Mrs General likewise clearly
understood that the attachment had occasioned much family grief and
dissension。 Of honest Mr Meagles no mention was made； except that it
was natural enough that a person of that sort should wish to raise his
daughter out of his own obscurity； and that no one could blame him for
trying his best to do so。
Little Dorrit's interest in the fair subject of this easily accepted
belief was too earnest and watchful to fail in accurate observation。 She
could see that it had its part in throwing upon Mrs Gowan the touch of a
shadow under which she lived； and she even had an instinctive knowledge
that there was not the least truth in it。 But it had an influence in
placing obstacles in the way of her association with Mrs Gowan by making
the Prunes and Prism school excessively polite to her； but not very
intimate with her； and Little Dorrit； as an enforced sizar of that
college； was obliged to submit herself humbly to its ordinances。
Nevertheless； there was a sympathetic understanding already
established between the two； which would have carried them over
greater difficulties； and made a friendship out of a more restricted
intercourse。 As though accidents were determined to be favourable to
it； they had a new assurance of congeniality in the aversion which each
perceived that the other felt towards Blandois of Paris； an aversion
amounting to the repugnance and horror of a natural antipathy towards an
odious creature of the reptile kind。
And there was a passive congeniality between them； besides this active
one。 To both of them； Blandois behaved in exactly the same manner； and
to both of them his manner had uniformly something in it； which
they both knew to be different from his bearing towards others。 The
difference was too minute in its expression to be perceived by others；
but they knew it to be there。 A mere trick of his evil eyes； a mere turn
of his smooth white hand； a mere hair's…breadth of addition to the fall
of his nose and the rise of the moustache in the most frequent movement
of his face； conveyed to both of them； equally； a swagger personal to
themselves。 It was as if he had said； 'I have a secret power in this
quarter。 I know what I know。'
This had never been felt by them both in so great a degree； and never
by each so perfectly to the knowledge of the other； as on a day when he
came to Mr Dorrit's to take his leave before quitting Venice。 Mrs
Gowan was herself there for the same purpose； and he came upon the
two together； the rest of the family being out。 The two had not been
together five minutes； and the peculiar manner seemed to convey to them；
'You were going to talk about me。 Ha！ Behold me here to prevent it！'
'Gowan is ing here？' said Blandois； with a smile。
Mrs Gowan replied he was not ing。
'Not ing！' said Blandois。 'Permit your devoted servant； when you
leave here； to escort you home。'
'Thank you： I am not going home。'
'Not going home！' said Blandois。 'Then I am forlorn。'
That he might be； but he was not so forlorn as to roam away and leave
them together。 He sat entertaining them with his finest pliments； and
his choicest conversation； but he conveyed to them； all the time； 'No；
no； no； dear ladies。 Behold me here expressly to prevent it！'
He conveyed it to them with so much meaning； and he had such a
diabolical persistency in him； that at length； Mrs Gowan rose to depart。
On his offering his hand to Mrs Gowan to lead her down the staircase；
she retained Little Dorrit's hand in hers； with a cautious pressure； and
said； 'No； thank you。 But； if you will please to see if my boatman is
there； I shall be obliged to you。'
It left him no choice but to go down before them。 As he did so； hat in
hand； Mrs Gowan whispered：
'He killed the dog。'
'Does Mr Gowan know it？' Little Dorrit whispered。
'No one knows it。 Don't look towards me； look towards him。 He will turn
his face in a moment。 No one knows it； but I am sure he did。 You are？'
'I……I think so；' Little Dorrit answered。
'Henry likes him； and he will not think ill of him； he is so generous
and open himself。 But you and I feel sure that we think of him as he
deserves。 He argued with Henry that the dog had been already poisoned
when he changed so； and sprang at him。 Henry believes it； but we do not。
I see he is listening； but can't hear。
Good…bye； my love！ Good…bye！'
The last words were spoken aloud； as the vigilant Blandois stopped；
turned his head； and looked at them from the bottom of the staircase。
Assuredly he did look then； though he looked his politest； as if any
real philanthropist could have desired no better employment than to lash
a great stone to his neck； and drop him into the water flowing beyond
the dark arched gateway in which he stood。 No such benefactor to mankind
being on the spot； he handed Mrs Gowan to her boat； and stood there
until it had shot out of the narrow view； when he handed himself into
his own boat and followed。
Little Dorrit had sometimes thought； and now thought again as she
retraced her steps up the staircase； that he had made his way too easily
into her father's house。 But so many and such varieties of people did
the same； through Mr Dorrit's participation in his elder daughter's
society mania； that it was hardly an exceptional case。 A perfect fury
for making acquaintances on whom to impress their riches and importance；
had seized the House of Dorrit。
It appeared on the whole； to Little Dorrit herself； that this same
society in which they lived； greatly resembled a superior sort of
Marshalsea。 Numbers of people seemed to e abroad； pretty much
as people had e into the prison； through debt； through idleness；
relationship； curiosity； and general unfitness for getting on at home。
They were brought into these foreign towns in the custody of couriers
and local followers； just as the debtors had been brought into the
prison。 They prowled about the churches and picture…galleries； much in
the old； dreary； prison…yard manner。 They were usually going away again
to…morrow or next week； and rarely knew their own minds； and seldom did
what they said they would do； or went where they said they would go： in
all this again； very like the prison debtors。 They paid high for poor
acmodation； and disparaged a place while they pretended to like it：
which was exactly the Marshalsea custom。 They were envied when they went
away by people left behind； feigning not to want to go： and that again
was the Marshalsea habit invariably。 A certain set of words and phrases；
as much belonging to tourists as the College and the Snuggery belonged
to the jail； was always in their mouths。 They had precisely the same
incapacity for settling down to anything； as the prisoners used to have；
they rather deteriorated one another； as the prisoners used to do； and
they wore untidy dresses； and fell into a slouching way of life： still；
always like the people in the Marshalsea。
The period of the family's stay at Venice came； in its course； to an
end； and they moved； with their retinue； to Rome。 Through a repetition
of the former Italian scenes； growing more dirty and more haggard as
they went on； and bringing them at length to where the very air was
diseased； they passed to their destination。 A fine residence had been
taken for them on the Corso； and there they took up their abode； in a
city where everything seemed to be trying to stand still for ever on
the ruins of something else……except the water； which； following eternal
laws； tumbled and rolled from its glorious multitude of fountains