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