little dorrit-信丽(英文版)-第75部分

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never　hear　any　haunted　noises　here？'

'Noises；'　returned　Mr　Flintwinch。　'No。'

'Nor　see　any　devils？'

'Not；'　said　Mr　Flintwinch；　grimly　screwing　himself　at　his　questioner；
'not　any　that　introduce　themselves　under　that　name　and　in　that
capacity。'

'Haha！　A　portrait　here；　I　see。'

（Still　looking　at　Mr　Flintwinch；　as　if　he　were　the　portrait。）

'It's　a　portrait；　sir；　as　you　observe。'

'May　I　ask　the　subject；　Mr　Flintwinch？'

'Mr　Clennam；　deceased。　Her　husband。'　'Former　owner　of　the　remarkable
watch；　perhaps？'　said　the　visitor。

Mr　Flintwinch；　who　had　cast　his　eyes　towards　the　portrait；　twisted
himself　about　again；　and　again　found　himself　the　subject　of　the　same
look　and　smile。　'Yes；　Mr　Blandois；'　he　replied　tartly。　'It　was　his；　and
his　uncle's　before　him；　and　Lord　knows　who　before　him；　and　that's　all　I
can　tell　you　of　its　pedigree。'

'That's　a　strongly　marked　character；　Mr　Flintwinch；　our　friend
up…stairs。'

'Yes；　sir；'　said　Jeremiah；　twisting　himself　at　the　visitor　again；　as　he
did　during　the　whole　of　this　dialogue；　like　some　screw…machine　that
fell　short　of　its　grip；　for　the　other　never　changed；　and　he　always
felt　obliged　to　retreat　a　little。　'She　is　a　remarkable　woman。　Great
fortitude……great　strength　of　mind。'

'They　must　have　been　very　happy；'　said　Blandois。

'Who？'　demanded　Mr　Flintwinch；　with　another　screw　at　him。

Mr　Blandois　shook　his　right　forefinger　towards　the　sick　room；　and　his
left　forefinger　towards　the　portrait；　and　then；　putting　his　arms　akimbo
and　striding　his　legs　wide　apart；　stood　smiling　down　at　Mr　Flintwinch
with　the　advancing　nose　and　the　retreating　moustache。

'As　happy　as　most　other　married　people；　I　suppose；'　returned　Mr
Flintwinch。　'I　can't　say。　I　don't　know。　There　are　secrets　in　all
families。'

'Secrets！'　cried　Mr　Blandois；　quickly。　'Say　it　again；　my　son。'

'I　say；'　replied　Mr　Flintwinch；　upon　whom　he　had　swelled　himself　so
suddenly　that　Mr　Flintwinch　found　his　face　almost　brushed　by　the　dilated
chest。　'I　say　there　are　secrets　in　all　families。'

'So　there　are；'　cried　the　other；　clapping　him　on　both　shoulders；　and
rolling　him　backwards　and　forwards。　'Haha！　you　are　right。　So　there　are！
Secrets！　Holy　Blue！　There　are　the　devil's　own　secrets　in　some　families；
Mr　Flintwinch！'　With　that；　after　clapping　Mr　Flintwinch　on　both
shoulders　several　times；　as　if　in　a　friendly　and　humorous　way　he　were
rallying　him　on　a　joke　he　had　made；　he　threw　up　his　arms；　threw　back
his　head；　hooked　his　hands　together　behind　it；　and　burst　into　a　roar　of
laughter。　It　was　in　vain　for　Mr　Flintwinch　to　try　another　screw　at　him。
He　had　his　laugh　out。

'But；　favour　me　with　the　candle　a　moment；'　he　said；　when　he　had　done。
'Let　us　have　a　look　at　the　husband　of　the　remarkable　lady。　Hah！'　holding
up　the　light　at　arm's　length。　'A　decided　expression　of　face　here　too；
though　not　of　the　same　character。　Looks　as　if　he　were　saying；　what　is
it……Do　Not　Forget……does　he　not；　Mr　Flintwinch？

By　Heaven；　sir；　he　does！'

As　he　returned　the　candle；　he　looked　at　him　once　more；　and　then；
leisurely　strolling　out　with　him　into　the　hall；　declared　it　to　be　a
charming　old　house　indeed；　and　one　which　had　so　greatly　pleased　him　that
he　would　not　have　missed　inspecting　it　for　a　hundred　pounds。　Throughout
these　singular　freedoms　on　the　part　of　Mr　Blandois；　which　involved　a
general　alteration　in　his　demeanour；　making　it　much　coarser　and　rougher；
much　more　violent　and　audacious　than　before；　Mr　Flintwinch；　whose
leathern　face　was　not　liable　to　many　changes；　preserved　its　immobility
intact。　Beyond　now　appearing　perhaps；　to　have　been　left　hanging　a　trifle
too　long　before　that　friendly　operation　of　cutting　down；　he　outwardly
maintained　an　equable　posure。　They　had　brought　their　survey　to　a
close　in　the　little　room　at　the　side　of　the　hall；　and　he　stood　there；
eyeing　Mr　Blandois。

'I　am　glad　you　are　so　well　satisfied；　sir；'　was　his　calm　remark。　'I
didn't　expect　it。　You　seem　to　be　quite　in　good　spirits。'

'In　admirable　spirits；'　returned　Blandois。　'Word　of　honour！　never　more
refreshed　in　spirits。　Do　you　ever　have　presentiments；　Mr　Flintwinch？'

'I　am　not　sure　that　I　know　what　you　mean　by　the　term；　sir；'　replied　that
gentleman。

'Say；　in　this　case；　Mr　Flintwinch；　undefined　anticipations　of　pleasure
to　e。'

'I　can't　say　I'm　sensible　of　such　a　sensation　at　present；'　returned　Mr
Flintwinch　with　the　utmost　gravity。　'If　I　should　find　it　ing　on；　I'll
mention　it。'

'Now　I；'　said　Blandois；　'I；　my　son；　have　a　presentiment　to…night　that　we
shall　be　well　acquainted。　Do　you　find　it　ing　on？'

'N…no；'　returned　Mr　Flintwinch；　deliberately　inquiring　of　himself。　'I
can't　say　I　do。'

'I　have　a　strong　presentiment　that　we　shall　bee　intimately
acquainted。……You　have　no　feeling　of　that　sort　yet？'

'Not　yet；'　said　Mr　Flintwinch。

Mr　Blandois；　taking　him　by　both　shoulders　again；　rolled　him　about　a
little　in　his　former　merry　way；　then　drew　his　arm　through　his　own；　and
invited　him　to　e　off　and　drink　a　bottle　of　wine　like　a　dear　deep　old
dog　as　he　was。

Without　a　moment's　indecision；　Mr　Flintwinch　accepted　the　invitation；
and　they　went　out　to　the　quarters　where　the　traveller　was　lodged；
through　a　heavy　rain　which　had　rattled　on　the　windows；　roofs；　and
pavements；　ever　since　nightfall。　The　thunder　and　lightning　had　long　ago
passed　over；　but　the　rain　was　furious。　On　their　arrival　at　Mr　Blandois'
room；　a　bottle　of　port　wine　was　ordered　by　that　gallant　gentleman；　who
（crushing　every　pretty　thing　he　could　collect；　in　the　soft　disposition
of　his　dainty　figure）　coiled　himself　upon　the　window…seat；　while　Mr
Flintwinch　took　a　chair　opposite　to　him；　with　the　table　between　them。　Mr
Blandois　proposed　having　the　largest　glasses　in　the　house；　to　which　Mr
Flintwinch　assented。　The　bumpers　filled；　Mr　Blandois；　with　a　roystering
gaiety；　clinked　the　top　of　his　glass　against　the　bottom　of　Mr
Flintwinch's；　and　the　bottom　of　his　glass　against　the　top　of　Mr
Flintwinch's；　and　drank　to　the　intimate　acquaintance　he　foresaw。

Mr　Flintwinch　gravely　pledged　him；　and　drank　all　the　wine　he　could　get；
and　said　nothing。　As　often　as　Mr　Blandois　clinked　glasses　（which　was
at　every　replenishment）；　Mr　Flintwinch　stolidly　did　his　part　of　the
clinking；　and　would　have　stolidly　done　his　panion's　part　of　the　wine
as　well　as　his　own：　being；　except　in　the　article　of　palate；　a　mere　cask。

In　short；　Mr　Blandois　found　that　to　pour　port　wine　into　the　reticent
Flintwinch　was；　not　to　open　him　but　to　shut　him　up。　Moreover；　he　had
the　appearance　of　a　perfect　ability　to　go　on　all　night；　or；　if　occasion
were；　all　next　day　and　all　next　night；　whereas　Mr　Blandois　soon　grew
indistinctly　conscious　of　swaggering　too　fiercely　and　boastfully。　He
therefore　terminated　the　entertainment　at　the　end　of　the　third　bottle。

'You　will　draw　upon　us　to…morrow；　sir；'　said　Mr　Flintwinch；　with　a
business…like　face　at　parting。

'My　Cabbage；'　returned　the　other；　taking　him　by　the　collar　with　both
hands；　'I'll　draw　upon　you；　have　no　fear。　Adieu；　my　Flintwinch。　Receive
at　parting；'　here　he　gave　him　a　southern　embrace；　and　kissed　him　soundly
on　both　cheeks；　'the　word　of　a　gentleman！　By　a　thousand　Thunders；　you
shall　see　me　again！'

He　did　not　present　himself　next　day；　though　the　letter　of　advice　came
duly　to　hand。　Inquiring　after　him　at　night；　Mr　Flintwinch　found；　with
surprise；　that　he　had　paid　his　bill　and　gone　back　to　the　Continent　by
way　of　Calais。　Nevertheless；　Jeremiah　scraped　out　of　his　cogitating
face　a　lively　conviction　that　Mr　Blandois　would　keep　his　word　on　this
occasion；　and　would　be　seen　again。




CHAPTER　31。　Spirit


Anybody　may　pass；　any　day；　in　the　thronged　thoroughfares　of　the
metropolis；　some　meagre；　wrinkled；　yellow　old　man　（who　might　be　supposed
to　have　dropped　from　the　stars；　if　there　were　any　star　in　the　Heavens
dull　enough　to　be　suspected　of　casting　off　so　feeble　a　spark）；　creeping
along　with　a　scared　air；　as　though　bewildered　and　a　little　frightened
by　the　noise　and　bustle。　This　old　man　is　always　a　little　old　man。　If　he
were　ever　a　big　old　man；　he　has　shrunk　into　a　little　old　man；　if　he　were
always　a　little　old　man；　he　has　dwindled　into　a　less　old　man。　His　coat
is　a　colour；　and　cut；　that　never　was　the　mode　anywhere；　at　any　period。
Clearly；　it　was　not　made　for　him；　or　for　any　individual　mortal。　Some
wholesale　contractor　measured　Fate　for　five　thousand　coats　of　such
quality；　and　Fate　has　lent　this　old　coat　to　this　old　man；　as　one　of　a
long　unfinished　line　of　many　old　men。　It　has　always　large　dull　metal
buttons；　similar　to　no　other　buttons。　This　old　man　wears　a　hat；　a
thumbed　and　napless　and　yet　an　obdurate　hat；　which　has　never　adapted
itself　to　the　shape　of　his　poor　head。　His　coarse　shirt　and　his　coarse
neckcloth　have　no　more　individuality　than　his　coat　and　hat；　they　have
the　same　character　of　not　being　his……of　not　being　anybody's。　Yet　this
old　man　wears　these　clothes　with　a　certain　unaccustomed　air　of　being
dressed　and　elaborated　for　the　public　ways；　as　though　he　passed　the
greater　part　of　his　time　in　a　nightcap　and　gown。　And　so；　like　the
country　mouse　in　the　second　year　of　a　famine；　e　to　see　the　town
mouse；　and　timidly　threading　his　way　to　the　town…mouse's　lodging　through
a　city　of　cats；　this　old　man　passes　in　the　streets。

Sometimes；　on　holidays　towards　evening；　he　will　be　seen　to　walk　with　a
slightly　increased　infirmity；　and　his　old　eyes　will　glimmer　with　a　moist
and　marshy　light。　Then　the　little　old　man　is　drunk。　A　very　small
measure　will　overset　him；　he　may　be　bowled　off　his　unsteady　legs　with
a　half…pint　pot。　Some　pitying　acquaintance……chance　acquaintance
very　often……has　warmed　up　his　weakness　with　a　treat　of　beer；　and　the
consequence　will　be　the　lapse　of　a　longer　time　than　usual　before　he
shall　pass　again。　For　the　little　old　man　is　going　home　to　the　Workhouse；
and　on　his　good　behaviour　they　do　not　let　him　out　often　（though　methinks
they　might；　considering　the　few　years　he　has　before　him　to　go　out　in；
under　the　sun）；　and　on　his　bad　behaviour　they　shut　him　up　closer　than
ever　in　a　grove　of　two　score　and　nieen　more　old　men；　every　one　of
whom　smells　of　all　the　others。


Mrs　Plornish's　father；……a　poor　little　reedy　piping　old　gentleman；　like
a　worn…out　bird；　who　had　been　in　what　he　called　the　music…binding
business；　and　met　with　great　misfortunes；　and　who　had　seldom　been　able
to　make　his　way；　or　to　see　it　or　to　pay　it；　or　to　do　anything　at　all
with　it　but　find　it　no　thoroughfare；……had　retired　of　his　own　accord　to
the　Workhouse　which　was　appointed　by　law　to　be　the　Good　Samaritan　of　his
district　（without　the　twopence；　which　was　bad　political　economy）；　on
the　settlement　of　that　execution　which　had　carried　Mr　Plornish　to　the
Marshalsea　College。　Previous　to　his　son…in…law's　difficulties　ing　to
that　head；　Old　Nandy　（he　was　always　so　called　in　his　legal　Retreat；　but
he　was　Old　Mr　Nandy　among　the　Bleeding　Hearts）　had　sat　in　a　corner　of
the　Plornish　fireside；　and　taken　his　bite　and　sup　out　of　the　Plornish
cupboard。　He　still　hoped　to　resume　that　domestic　position　when　Fortune
should　smile　upon　his　son…in…law；　in　the　meantime；　while　she　preserved
an　immovable　countenance；　he　was；　and　resolved　to　remain；　one　of　these
little　old　men　in　a　grove　of　little　old　men　with　a　munit