little dorrit-信丽(英文版)-第4部分

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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　into　a　still　greater　resemblance　to　a　caged　wild　animal　by　his
anxiety　to　know　more；　the　prisoner　leaped　nimbly　down；　ran　round　the
chamber；　leaped　nimbly　up　again；　clasped　the　grate　and　tried　to　shake
it；　leaped　down　and　ran；　leaped　up　and　listened；　and　never　rested　until
the　noise；　being　more　and　more　distant；　had　died　away。　How　many
better　prisoners　have　worn　their　noble　hearts　out　so；　no　man　thinking
of　it；　not　even　the　beloved　of　their　souls　realising　it；　great　kings
and　governors；　who　had　made　them　captive；　careering　in　the　sunlight
jauntily；　and　men　cheering　them　on。　Even　the　said　great　personages　dying
in　bed；　making　exemplary　ends　and　sounding　speeches；　and　polite　history；
more　servile　than　their　instruments；　embalming　them！

At　last；　John　Baptist；　now　able　to　choose　his　own　spot　within　the
pass　of　those　walls　for　the　exercise　of　his　faculty　of　going　to　sleep
when　he　would；　lay　down　upon　the　bench；　with　his　face　turned　over　on　his
crossed　arms；　and　slumbered。　In　his　submission；　in　his　lightness；　in　his
good　humour；　in　his　short…lived　passion；　in　his　easy　contentment　with
hard　bread　and　hard　stones；　in　his　ready　sleep；　in　his　fits　and　starts；
altogether　a　true　son　of　the　land　that　gave　him　birth。

The　wide　stare　stared　itself　out　for　one　while；　the　Sun　went　down　in
a　red；　green；　golden　glory；　the　stars　came　out　in　the　heavens；　and　the
fire…flies　mimicked　them　in　the　lower　air；　as　men　may　feebly　imitate
the　goodness　of　a　better　order　of　beings；　the　long　dusty　roads　and　the
interminable　plains　were　in　repose……and　so　deep　a　hush　was　on　the　sea；
that　it　scarcely　whispered　of　the　time　when　it　shall　give　up　its　dead。




CHAPTER　2　Fellow　Travellers


'No　more　of　yesterday's　howling　over　yonder　to…day；　Sir；　is　there？'

'I　have　heard　none。'

'Then　you　may　be　sure　there　is　none。　When　these　people　howl；　they　howl
to　be　heard。'

'Most　people　do；　I　suppose。'

'Ah！　but　these　people　are　always　howling。　Never　happy　otherwise。'

'Do　you　mean　the　Marseilles　people？'

'I　mean　the　French　people。　They're　always　at　it。　As　to　Marseilles；　we
know　what　Marseilles　is。　It　sent　the　most　insurrectionary　tune　into　the
world　that　was　ever　posed。　It　couldn't　exist　without　allonging　and
marshonging　to　something　or　other……victory　or　death；　or　blazes；　or
something。'

The　speaker；　with　a　whimsical　good　humour　upon　him　all　the　time；　looked
over　the　parapet…wall　with　the　greatest　disparagement　of　Marseilles；　and
taking　up　a　determined　position　by　putting　his　hands　in　his　pockets　and
rattling　his　money　at　it；　apostrophised　it　with　a　short　laugh。

'Allong　and　marshong；　indeed。　It　would　be　more　creditable　to　you；
I　think；　to　let　other　people　allong　and　marshong　about　their　lawful
business；　instead　of　shutting　'em　up　in　quarantine！'

'Tiresome　enough；'　said　the　other。　'But　we　shall　be　out　to…day。'

'Out　to…day！'　repeated　the　first。　'It's　almost　an　aggravation　of　the
enormity；　that　we　shall　be　out　to…day。　Out！　What　have　we　ever　been　in
for？'

'For　no　very　strong　reason；　I　must　say。　But　as　we　e　from　the　East；
and　as　the　East　is　the　country　of　the　plague……'

'The　plague！'　repeated　the　other。　'That's　my　grievance。　I　have　had　the
plague　continually；　ever　since　I　have　been　here。　I　am　like　a　sane　man
shut　up　in　a　madhouse；　I　can't　stand　the　suspicion　of　the　thing。　I　came
here　as　well　as　ever　I　was　in　my　life；　but　to　suspect　me　of　the　plague
is　to　give　me　the　plague。　And　I　have　had　it……and　I　have　got　it。'

'You　bear　it　very　well；　Mr　Meagles；'　said　the　second　speaker；　smiling。

'No。　If　you　knew　the　real　state　of　the　case；　that's　the　last　observation
you　would　think　of　making。　I　have　been　waking　up　night　after　night；　and
saying；　NOW　I　have　got　it；　NOW　it　has　developed　itself；　NOW　I　am　in　for
it；　NOW　these　fellows　are　making　out　their　case　for　their　precautions。
Why；　I'd　as　soon　have　a　spit　put　through　me；　and　be　stuck　upon　a　card　in
a　collection　of　beetles；　as　lead　the　life　I　have　been　leading　here。'

'Well；　Mr　Meagles；　say　no　more　about　it　now　it's　over；'　urged　a　cheerful
feminine　voice。

'Over！'　repeated　Mr　Meagles；　who　appeared　（though　without　any
ill…nature）　to　be　in　that　peculiar　state　of　mind　in　which　the　last　word
spoken　by　anybody　else　is　a　new　injury。　'Over！　and　why　should　I　say　no
more　about　it　because　it's　over？'

It　was　Mrs　Meagles　who　had　spoken　to　Mr　Meagles；　and　Mrs　Meagles　was；
like　Mr　Meagles；　ely　and　healthy；　with　a　pleasant　English　face　which
had　been　looking　at　homely　things　for　five…and…fifty　years　or　more；　and
shone　with　a　bright　reflection　of　them。

'There！　Never　mind；　Father；　never　mind！'　said　Mrs　Meagles。　'For　goodness
sake　content　yourself　with　Pet。'

'With　Pet？'　repeated　Mr　Meagles　in　his　injured　vein。　Pet；　however；
being　close　behind　him；　touched　him　on　the　shoulder；　and　Mr　Meagles
immediately　forgave　Marseilles　from　the　bottom　of　his　heart。

Pet　was　about　twenty。　A　fair　girl　with　rich　brown　hair　hanging　free　in
natural　ringlets。　A　lovely　girl；　with　a　frank　face；　and　wonderful　eyes；
so　large；　so　soft；　so　bright；　set　to　such　perfection　in　her　kind　good
head。　She　was　round　and　fresh　and　dimpled　and　spoilt；　and　there　was　in
Pet　an　air　of　timidity　and　dependence　which　was　the　best　weakness　in
the　world；　and　gave　her　the　only　crowning　charm　a　girl　so　pretty　and
pleasant　could　have　been　without。

'Now；　I　ask　you；'　said　Mr　Meagles　in　the　blandest　confidence；　falling
back　a　step　himself；　and　handing　his　daughter　a　step　forward　to
illustrate　his　question：　'I　ask　you　simply；　as　between　man　and　man；
you　know；　DID　you　ever　hear　of　such　damned　nonsense　as　putting　Pet　in
quarantine？'

'It　has　had　the　result　of　making　even　quarantine　enjoyable。'　'e！'
said　Mr　Meagles；　'that's　something　to　be　sure。　I　am　obliged　to　you　for
that　remark。　Now；　Pet；　my　darling；　you　had　better　go　along　with　Mother
and　get　ready　for　the　boat。　The　officer　of　health；　and　a　variety　of
humbugs　in　cocked　hats；　are　ing　off　to　let　us　out　of　this　at　last：
and　all　we　jail…birds　are　to　breakfast　together　in　something　approaching
to　a　Christian　style　again；　before　we　take　wing　for　our　different
destinations。　Tattycoram；　stick　you　close　to　your　young　mistress。'

He　spoke　to　a　handsome　girl　with　lustrous　dark　hair　and　eyes；　and　very
neatly　dressed；　who　replied　with　a　half　curtsey　as　she　passed　off　in　the
train　of　Mrs　Meagles　and　Pet。　They　crossed　the　bare　scorched　terrace
all　three　together；　and　disappeared　through　a　staring　white　archway。
Mr　Meagles's　panion；　a　grave　dark　man　of　forty；　still　stood　looking
towards　this　archway　after　they　were　gone；　until　Mr　Meagles　tapped　him
on　the　arm。

'I　beg　your　pardon；'　said　he；　starting。

'Not　at　all；'　said　Mr　Meagles。

They　took　one　silent　turn　backward　and　forward　in　the　shade　of　the　wall；
getting；　at　the　height　on　which　the　quarantine　barracks　are　placed；　what
cool　refreshment　of　sea　breeze　there　was　at　seven　in　the　morning。　Mr
Meagles's　panion　resumed　the　conversation。

'May　I　ask　you；'　he　said；　'what　is　the　name　of……'

'Tattycoram？'　Mr　Meagles　struck　in。　'I　have　not　the　least　idea。'

'I　thought；'　said　the　other；　'that……'

'Tattycoram？'　suggested　Mr　Meagles　again。

'Thank　you……that　Tattycoram　was　a　name；　and　I　have　several　times
wondered　at　the　oddity　of　it。'

'Why；　the　fact　is；'　said　Mr　Meagles；　'Mrs　Meagles　and　myself　are；　you
see；　practical　people。'

'That　you　have　frequently　mentioned　in　the　course　of　the　agreeable　and
interesting　conversations　we　have　had　together；　walking　up　and　down　on
these　stones；'　said　the　other；　with　a　half　smile　breaking　through　the
gravity　of　his　dark　face。

'Practical　people。　So　one　day；　five　or　six　years　ago　now；　when　we　took
Pet　to　church　at　the　Foundling……you　have　heard　of　the　Foundling　Hospital
in　London？　Similar　to　the　Institution　for　the　Found　Children　in　Paris？'

'I　have　seen　it。'

'Well！　One　day　when　we　took　Pet　to　church　there　to　hear　the
music……because；　as　practical　people；　it　is　the　business　of　our　lives　to
show　her　everything　that　we　think　can　please　her……Mother　（my　usual　name
for　Mrs　Meagles）　began　to　cry　so；　that　it　was　necessary　to　take　her