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little dorrit-信丽(英文版)-第155部分

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ever; were like those of a teetotum nearly spent。

'I had a presentiment; last time; that we should be better and more
intimately acquainted。 Is it ing on you; Flintwinch? Is it yet ing
on?'

'Why; no; sir;' retorted Mr Flintwinch。 'Not unusually。 Hadn't you
better be seated? You have been calling for some more of that port; sir;
I guess?'

'Ah; Little joker! Little pig!' cried the visitor。 'Ha ha ha ha!' And
throwing Mr Flintwinch away; as a closing piece of raillery; he sat down
again。

The amazement; suspicion; resentment; and shame; with which Arthur
looked on at all this; struck him dumb。 Mr Flintwinch; who had spun
backward some two or three yards under the impetus last given to him;
brought himself up with a face pletely unchanged in its stolidity
except as it was affected by shortness of breath; and looked hard at
Arthur。 Not a whit less reticent and wooden was Mr Flintwinch outwardly;
than in the usual course of things: the only perceptible difference in
him being that the knot of cravat which was generally under his ear;
had worked round to the back of his head: where it formed an ornamental
appendage not unlike a bagwig; and gave him something of a courtly
appearance。 As Mrs Clennam never removed her eyes from Blandois (on whom
they had some effect; as a steady look has on a lower sort of dog); so
Jeremiah never removed his from Arthur。 It was as if they had tacitly
agreed to take their different provinces。 Thus; in the ensuing silence;
Jeremiah stood scraping his chin and looking at Arthur as though he were
trying to screw his thoughts out of him with an instrument。

After a little; the visitor; as if he felt the silence irksome; rose;
and impatiently put himself with his back to the sacred fire which had
burned through so many years。 Thereupon Mrs Clennam said; moving one of
her hands for the first time; and moving it very slightly with an action
of dismissal:

'Please to leave us to our business; Arthur。' 'Mother; I do so with
reluctance。'

'Never mind with what;' she returned; 'or with what not。 Please to leave
us。 e back at any other time when you may consider it a duty to bury
half an hour wearily here。 Good night。'

She held up her muffled fingers that he might touch them with his;
according to their usual custom; and he stood over her wheeled chair to
touch her face with his lips。 He thought; then; that her cheek was
more strained than usual; and that it was colder。 As he followed the
direction of her eyes; in rising again; towards Mr Flintwinch's good
friend; Mr Blandois; Mr Blandois snapped his finger and thumb with one
loud contemptuous snap。

'I leave your……your business acquaintance in my mother's room; Mr
Flintwinch;' said Clennam; 'with a great deal of surprise and a great
deal of unwillingness。'

The person referred to snapped his finger and thumb again。

'Good night; mother。'

'Good night。'

'I had a friend once; my good rade Flintwinch;' said Blandois;
standing astride before the fire; and so evidently saying it to arrest
Clennam's retreating steps; that he lingered near the door; 'I had a
friend once; who had heard so much of the dark side of this city and
its ways; that he wouldn't have confided himself alone by night with two
people who had an interest in getting him under the ground……my faith!
not even in a respectable house like this……unless he was bodily too
strong for them。 Bah! What a poltroon; my Flintwinch! Eh?'

'A cur; sir。'

'Agreed! A cur。 But he wouldn't have done it; my Flintwinch; unless he
had known them to have the will to silence him; without the power。 He
wouldn't have drunk from a glass of water under such circumstances……not
even in a respectable house like this; my Flintwinch……unless he had seen
one of them drink first; and swallow too!'

Disdaining to speak; and indeed not very well able; for he was
half…choking; Clennam only glanced at the visitor as he passed out。

The visitor saluted him with another parting snap; and his nose came
down over his moustache and his moustache went up under his nose; in an
ominous and ugly smile。

'For Heaven's sake; Affery;' whispered Clennam; as she opened the door
for him in the dark hall; and he groped his way to the sight of the
night…sky; 'what is going on here?'

Her own appearance was sufficiently ghastly; standing in the dark
with her apron thrown over her head; and speaking behind it in a low;
deadened voice。

'Don't ask me anything; Arthur。 I've been in a dream for ever so long。
Go away!'

He went out; and she shut the door upon him。 He looked up at the windows
of his mother's room; and the dim light; deadened by the yellow blinds;
seemed to say a response after Affery; and to mutter; 'Don't ask me
anything。 Go away!'




CHAPTER 11。 A Letter from Little Dorrit


Dear Mr Clennam;

As I said in my last that it was best for nobody to write to me; and
as my sending you another little letter can therefore give you no other
trouble than the trouble of reading it (perhaps you may not find leisure
for even that; though I hope you will some day); I am now going to
devote an hour to writing to you again。 This time; I write from Rome。

We left Venice before Mr and Mrs Gowan did; but they were not so long
upon the road as we were; and did not travel by the same way; and so
when we arrived we found them in a lodging here; in a place called the
Via Gregoriana。 I dare say you know it。

Now I am going to tell you all I can about them; because I know that is
what you most want to hear。 Theirs is not a very fortable lodging;
but perhaps I thought it less so when I first saw it than you would have
done; because you have been in many different countries and have
seen many different customs。 Of course it is a far; far better
place……millions of times……than any I have ever been used to until
lately; and I fancy I don't look at it with my own eyes; but with hers。
For it would be easy to see that she has always been brought up in a
tender and happy home; even if she had not told me so with great love
for it。

Well; it is a rather bare lodging up a rather dark mon staircase; and
it is nearly all a large dull room; where Mr Gowan paints。 The windows
are blocked up where any one could look out; and the walls have been
all drawn over with chalk and charcoal by others who have lived there
before……oh;……I should think; for years!

There is a curtain more dust…coloured than red; which divides it; and
the part behind the curtain makes the private sitting…room。

When I first saw her there she was alone; and her work had fallen out of
her hand; and she was looking up at the sky shining through the tops of
the windows。 Pray do not be uneasy when I tell you; but it was not
quite so airy; nor so bright; nor so cheerful; nor so happy and youthful
altogether as I should have liked it to be。

On account of Mr Gowan's painting Papa's picture (which I am not quite
convinced I should have known from the likeness if I had not seen him
doing it); I have had more opportunities of being with her since then
than I might have had without this fortunate chance。 She is very much
alone。 Very much alone indeed。

Shall I tell you about the second time I saw her? I went one day; when
it happened that I could run round by myself; at four or five o'clock
in the afternoon。 She was then dining alone; and her solitary dinner had
been brought in from somewhere; over a kind of brazier with a fire in
it; and she had no pany or prospect of pany; that I could see;
but the old man who had brought it。 He was telling her a long story (of
robbers outside the walls being taken up by a stone statue of a Saint);
to entertain her……as he said to me when I came out; 'because he had a
daughter of his own; though she was not so pretty。'

I ought now to mention Mr Gowan; before I say what little more I have to
say about her。 He must admire her beauty; and he must be proud of her;
for everybody praises it; and he must be fond of her; and I do not
doubt that he is……but in his way。 You know his way; and if it appears
as careless and discontented in your eyes as it does in mine; I am not
wrong in thinking that it might be better suited to her。 If it does n
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