little dorrit-信丽(英文版)-第9部分

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！


struggle　she　made　as　if　she　were　rent　by　the　Demons　of　old。

'I　am　younger　than　she　is　by　two　or　three　years；　and　yet　it's　me　that
looks　after　her；　as　if　I　was　old；　and　it's　she　that's　always　petted　and
called　Baby！　I　detest　the　name。　I　hate　her！　They　make　a　fool　of　her；
they　spoil　her。　She　thinks　of　nothing　but　herself；　she　thinks　no　more　of
me　than　if　I　was　a　stock　and　a　stone！'　So　the　girl　went　on。

'You　must　have　patience。'

'I　WON'T　have　patience！'

'If　they　take　much　care　of　themselves；　and　little　or　none　of　you；　you
must　not　mind　it。'

I　WILL　mind　it。'

'Hush！　Be　more　prudent。　You　forget　your　dependent　position。'

'I　don't　care　for　that。　I'll　run　away。　I'll　do　some　mischief。　I　won't
bear　it；　I　can't　bear　it；　I　shall　die　if　I　try　to　bear　it！'

The　observer　stood　with　her　hand　upon　her　own　bosom；　looking　at　the
girl；　as　one　afflicted　with　a　diseased　part　might　curiously　watch　the
dissection　and　exposition　of　an　analogous　case。

The　girl　raged　and　battled　with　all　the　force　of　her　youth　and　fulness
of　life；　until　by　little　and　little　her　passionate　exclamations　trailed
off　into　broken　murmurs　as　if　she　were　in　pain。　By　corresponding　degrees
she　sank　into　a　chair；　then　upon　her　knees；　then　upon　the　ground　beside
the　bed；　drawing　the　coverlet　with　her；　half　to　hide　her　shamed　head　and
wet　hair　in　it；　and　half；　as　it　seemed；　to　embrace　it；　rather　than　have
nothing　to　take　to　her　repentant　breast。

'Go　away　from　me；　go　away　from　me！　When　my　temper　es　upon　me；　I
am　mad。　I　know　I　might　keep　it　off　if　I　only　tried　hard　enough；　and
sometimes　I　do　try　hard　enough；　and　at　other　times　I　don't　and　won't。
What　have　I　said！　I　knew　when　I　said　it；　it　was　all　lies。　They　think　I
am　being　taken　care　of　somewhere；　and　have　all　I　want。

They　are　nothing　but　good　to　me。　I　love　them　dearly；　no　people　could
ever　be　kinder　to　a　thankless　creature　than　they　always　are　to　me。　Do；
do　go　away；　for　I　am　afraid　of　you。　I　am　afraid　of　myself　when　I　feel　my
temper　ing；　and　I　am　as　much　afraid　of　you。　Go　away　from　me；　and　let
me　pray　and　cry　myself　better！'　The　day　passed　on；　and　again　the　wide
stare　stared　itself　out；　and　the　hot　night　was　on　Marseilles；　and
through　it　the　caravan　of　the　morning；　all　dispersed；　went　their
appointed　ways。　And　thus　ever　by　day　and　night；　under　the　sun　and　under
the　stars；　climbing　the　dusty　hills　and　toiling　along　the　weary　plains；
journeying　by　land　and　journeying　by　sea；　ing　and　going　so　strangely；
to　meet　and　to　act　and　react　on　one　another；　move　all　we　restless
travellers　through　the　pilgrimage　of　life。




CHAPTER　3。　Home


It　was　a　Sunday　evening　in　London；　gloomy；　close；　and　stale。　Maddening
church　bells　of　all　degrees　of　dissonance；　sharp　and　flat；　cracked
and　clear；　fast　and　slow；　made　the　brick…and…mortar　echoes　hideous。
Melancholy　streets；　in　a　penitential　garb　of　soot；　steeped　the　souls　of
the　people　who　were　condemned　to　look　at　them　out　of　windows；　in　dire
despondency。　In　every　thoroughfare；　up　almost　every　alley；　and　down
almost　every　turning；　some　doleful　bell　was　throbbing；　jerking；　tolling；
as　if　the　Plague　were　in　the　city　and　the　dead…carts　were　going　round。
Everything　was　bolted　and　barred　that　could　by　possibility　furnish
relief　to　an　overworked　people。　No　pictures；　no　unfamiliar　animals；　no
rare　plants　or　flowers；　no　natural　or　artificial　wonders　of　the　ancient
world……all　TABOO　with　that　enlightened　strictness；　that　the　ugly　South
Sea　gods　in　the　British　Museum　might　have　supposed　themselves　at　home
again。　Nothing　to　see　but　streets；　streets；　streets。　Nothing　to　breathe
but　streets；　streets；　streets。　Nothing　to　change　the　brooding　mind；
or　raise　it　up。　Nothing　for　the　spent　toiler　to　do；　but　to　pare　the
monotony　of　his　seventh　day　with　the　monotony　of　his　six　days；　think
what　a　weary　life　he　led；　and　make　the　best　of　it……or　the　worst；
according　to　the　probabilities。

At　such　a　happy　time；　so　propitious　to　the　interests　of　religion　and
morality；　Mr　Arthur　Clennam；　newly　arrived　from　Marseilles　by　way　of
Dover；　and　by　Dover　coach　the　Blue…eyed　Maid；　sat　in　the　window　of　a
coffee…house　on　Ludgate　Hill。　Ten　thousand　responsible　houses　surrounded
him；　frowning　as　heavily　on　the　streets　they　posed；　as　if　they　were
every　one　inhabited　by　the　ten　young　men　of　the　Calender's　story；　who
blackened　their　faces　and　bemoaned　their　miseries　every　night。　Fifty
thousand　lairs　surrounded　him　where　people　lived　so　unwholesomely　that
fair　water　put　into　their　crowded　rooms　on　Saturday　night；　would　be
corrupt　on　Sunday　morning；　albeit　my　lord；　their　county　member；　was
amazed　that　they　failed　to　sleep　in　pany　with　their　butcher's　meat。
Miles　of　close　wells　and　pits　of　houses；　where　the　inhabitants　gasped
for　air；　stretched　far　away　towards　every　point　of　the　pass。　Through
the　heart　of　the　town　a　deadly　sewer　ebbed　and　flowed；　in　the　place　of
a　fine　fresh　river。　What　secular　want　could　the　million　or　so　of
human　beings　whose　daily　labour；　six　days　in　the　week；　lay　among　these
Arcadian　objects；　from　the　sweet　sameness　of　which　they　had　no　escape
between　the　cradle　and　the　grave……what　secular　want　could　they　possibly
have　upon　their　seventh　day？　Clearly　they　could　want　nothing　but　a
stringent　policeman。

Mr　Arthur　Clennam　sat　in　the　window　of　the　coffee…house　on　Ludgate　Hill；
counting　one　of　the　neighbouring　bells；　making　sentences　and　burdens　of
songs　out　of　it　in　spite　of　himself；　and　wondering　how　many　sick
people　it　might　be　the　death　of　in　the　course　of　the　year。　As　the　hour
approached；　its　changes　of　measure　made　it　more　and　more　exasperating。
At　the　quarter；　it　went　off　into　a　condition　of　deadly…lively
importunity；　urging　the　populace　in　a　voluble　manner　to　e　to　church；
e　to　church；　e　to　church！　At　the　ten　minutes；　it　became　aware
that　the　congregation　would　be　scanty；　and　slowly　hammered　out　in　low
spirits；　They　WON'T　e；　they　WON'T　e；　they　WON'T　e！　At　the　five
minutes；　it　abandoned　hope；　and　shook　every　house　in　the　neighbourhood
for　three　hundred　seconds；　with　one　dismal　swing　per　second；　as　a　groan
of　despair。

'Thank　Heaven！'　said　Clennam；　when　the　hour　struck；　and　the　bell
stopped。

But　its　sound　had　revived　a　long　train　of　miserable　Sundays；　and　the
procession　would　not　stop　with　the　bell；　but　continued　to　march　on。
'Heaven　forgive　me；'　said　he；　'and　those　who　trained　me。　How　I　have
hated　this　day！'

There　was　the　dreary　Sunday　of　his　childhood；　when　he　sat　with　his　hands
before　him；　scared　out　of　his　senses　by　a　horrible　tract　which　menced
business　with　the　poor　child　by　asking　him　in　its　title；　why　he　was
going　to　Perdition？……a　piece　of　curiosity　that　he　really；　in　a　frock　and
drawers；　was　not　in　a　condition　to　satisfy……and　which；　for　the　further
attraction　of　his　infant　mind；　had　a　parenthesis　in　every　other　line
with　some　such　hiccupping　reference　as　2　Ep。　Thess。　c。　iii；　v。　6　&
7。　There　was　the　sleepy　Sunday　of　his　boyhood；　when；　like　a　military
deserter；　he　was　marched　to　chapel　by　a　picquet　of　teachers　three　times
a　day；　morally　handcuffed　to　another　boy；　and　when　he　would　willingly
have　bartered　two　meals　of　indigestible　sermon　for　another　ounce　or
two　of　inferior　mutton　at　his　scanty　dinner　in　the　flesh。　There　was　the
interminable　Sunday　of　his　nonage；　when　his　mother；　stern　of　face　and
unrelenting　of　heart；　would　sit　all　day　behind　a　Bible……bound；　like　her
own　construction　of　it；　in　the　hardest；　barest；　and　straitest　boards；
with　one　dinted　ornament　on　the　cover　like　the　drag　of　a　chain；　and　a
wrathful　sprinkling　of　red　upon　the　edges　of　the　leaves……as　if　it；　of
all　books！　were　a　fortification　against　sweetness　of　temper；　natural
affection；　and　gentle　intercourse。　There　was　the　resentful　Sunday　of　a
little　later；　when　he　sat　down　glowering　and　glooming　through　the　tardy
length　of　the　day；　with　a　sullen　sense　of　injury　in　his　heart；　and　no
more　real　knowledge　of　the　beneficent　history　of　the　New　Testament　than
if　he　had　been　bred　among　idolaters。　There　was　a　legion　of　Sundays；
all　days　of　unserviceable　bitterness　and　mortification；　slowly　passing
before　him。　'Beg　pardon；　sir；'　said　a　brisk　waiter；　rubbing　the　table。
'Wish　see　bed…room？'

'Yes。　I　have　just　made　up　m