little dorrit-信丽(英文版)-第23章

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opening　them　very　wide；　and　tossing　her　head　on　one　side。　'Naturally；
yes。'

'He　was　a　bad　subject。'

'He　was　a　wicked　wretch；'　said　the　landlady；　'and　well　merited　what　he
had　the　good　fortune　to　escape。　So　much　the　worse。'

'Stay；　madame！　Let　us　see；'　returned　the　Swiss；　argumentatively　turning
his　cigar　between　his　lips。　'It　may　have　been　his　unfortunate　destiny。
He　may　have　been　the　child　of　circumstances。　It　is　always　possible　that
he　had；　and　has；　good　in　him　if　one　did　but　know　how　to　find　it　out。
Philosophical　philanthropy　teaches……'

The　rest　of　the　little　knot　about　the　stove　murmured　an　objection　to
the　introduction　of　that　threatening　expression。　Even　the　two　players
at　dominoes　glanced　up　from　their　game；　as　if　to　protest　against
philosophical　philanthropy　being　brought　by　name　into　the　Break　of　Day。

'Hold　there；　you　and　your　philanthropy；'　cried　the　smiling　landlady；
nodding　her　head　more　than　ever。　'Listen　then。　I　am　a　woman；　I。　I　know
nothing　of　philosophical　philanthropy。　But　I　know　what　I　have　seen；　and
what　I　have　looked　in　the　face　in　this　world　here；　where　I　find　myself。
And　I　tell　you　this；　my　friend；　that　there　are　people　（men　and　women
both；　unfortunately）　who　have　no　good　in　them……none。　That　there　are
people　whom　it　is　necessary　to　detest　without　promise。　That　there　are
people　who　must　be　dealt　with　as　enemies　of　the　human　race。　That　there
are　people　who　have　no　human　heart；　and　who　must　be　crushed　like　savage
beasts　and　cleared　out　of　the　way。　They　are　but　few；　I　hope；　but　I　have
seen　（in　this　world　here　where　I　find　myself；　and　even　at　the　little
Break　of　Day）　that　there　are　such　people。　And　I　do　not　doubt　that　this
man……whatever　they　call　him；　I　forget　his　name……is　one　of　them。'

The　landlady's　lively　speech　was　received　with　greater　favour　at
the　Break　of　Day；　than　it　would　have　elicited　from　certain　amiable
whitewashers　of　the　class　she　so　unreasonably　objected　to；　nearer　Great
Britain。

'My　faith！　If　your　philosophical　philanthropy；'　said　the　landlady；
putting　down　her　work；　and　rising　to　take　the　stranger's　soup　from　her
husband；　who　appeared　with　it　at　a　side　door；　'puts　anybody　at　the　mercy
of　such　people　by　holding　terms　with　them　at　all；　in　words　or　deeds；　or
both；　take　it　away　from　the　Break　of　Day；　for　it　isn't　worth　a　sou。'

As　she　placed　the　soup　before　the　guest；　who　changed　his　attitude　to　a
sitting　one；　he　looked　her　full　in　the　face；　and　his　moustache　went　up
under　his　nose；　and　his　nose　came　down　over　his　moustache。

'Well！'　said　the　previous　speaker；　'let　us　e　back　to　our　subject。
Leaving　all　that　aside；　gentlemen；　it　was　because　the　man　was　acquitted
on　his　trial　that　people　said　at　Marseilles　that　the　devil　was　let
loose。　That　was　how　the　phrase　began　to　circulate；　and　what　it　meant；
nothing　more。'

'How　do　they　call　him？'　said　the　landlady。　'Biraud；　is　it　not？'

'Rigaud；　madame；'　returned　the　tall　Swiss。

'Rigaud！　To　be　sure。'

The　traveller's　soup　was　succeeded　by　a　dish　of　meat；　and　that　by　a　dish
of　vegetables。　He　ate　all　that　was　placed　before　him；　emptied　his　bottle
of　wine；　called　for　a　glass　of　rum；　and　smoked　his　cigarette　with
his　cup　of　coffee。　As　he　became　refreshed；　he　became　overbearing；　and
patronised　the　pany　at　the　Daybreak　in　certain　small　talk　at　which　he
assisted；　as　if　his　condition　were　far　above　his　appearance。

The　pany　might　have　had　other　engagements；　or　they　might　have　felt
their　inferiority；　but　in　any　case　they　dispersed　by　degrees；　and　not
being　replaced　by　other　pany；　left　their　new　patron　in　possession　of
the　Break　of　Day。　The　landlord　was　clinking　about　in　his　kitchen；　the
landlady　was　quiet　at　her　work；　and　the　refreshed　traveller　sat　smoking
by　the　stove；　warming　his　ragged　feet。

'Pardon　me；　madame……that　Biraud。'

'Rigaud；　monsieur。'

'Rigaud。　Pardon　me　again……has　contracted　your　displeasure；　how？'

The　landlady；　who　had　been　at　one　moment　thinking　within　herself　that
this　was　a　handsome　man；　at　another　moment　that　this　was　an　ill…looking
man；　observed　the　nose　ing　down　and　the　moustache　going　up；　and
strongly　inclined　to　the　latter　decision。　Rigaud　was　a　criminal；　she
said；　who　had　killed　his　wife。

'Ay；　ay？　Death　of　my　life；　that's　a　criminal　indeed。　But　how　do　you　know
it？'

'All　the　world　knows　it。'

'Hah！　And　yet　he　escaped　justice？'

'Monsieur；　the　law　could　not　prove　it　against　him　to　its　satisfaction。
So　the　law　says。　Nevertheless；　all　the　world　knows　he　did　it。　The　people
knew　it　so　well；　that　they　tried　to　tear　him　to　pieces。'

'Being　all　in　perfect　accord　with　their　own　wives？'　said　the　guest。

'Haha！'

The　landlady　of　the　Break　of　Day　looked　at　him　again；　and　felt　almost
confirmed　in　her　last　decision。　He　had　a　fine　hand；　though；　and　he
turned　it　with　a　great　show。　She　began　once　more　to　think　that　he　was
not　ill…looking　after　all。

'Did　you　mention；　madame……or　was　it　mentioned　among　the　gentlemen……what
became　of　him？'　The　landlady　shook　her　head；　it　being　the　first
conversational　stage　at　which　her　vivacious　earnestness　had　ceased　to
nod　it；　keeping　time　to　what　she　said。　It　had　been　mentioned　at　the
Daybreak；　she　remarked；　on　the　authority　of　the　journals；　that　he　had
been　kept　in　prison　for　his　own　safety。　However　that　might　be；　he　had
escaped　his　deserts；　so　much　the　worse。

The　guest　sat　looking　at　her　as　he　smoked　out　his　final　cigarette；　and
as　she　sat　with　her　head　bent　over　her　work；　with　an　expression　that
might　have　resolved　her　doubts；　and　brought　her　to　a　lasting　conclusion
on　the　subject　of　his　good　or　bad　looks　if　she　had　seen　it。　When　she　did
look　up；　the　expression　was　not　there。　The　hand　was　smoothing　his　shaggy
moustache。　'May　one　ask　to　be　shown　to　bed；　madame？'

Very　willingly；　monsieur。　Hola；　my　husband！　My　husband　would　conduct　him
up…stairs。　There　was　one　traveller　there；　asleep；　who　had　gone　to　bed
very　early　indeed；　being　overpowered　by　fatigue；　but　it　was　a　large
chamber　with　two　beds　in　it；　and　space　enough　for　twenty。　This　the
landlady　of　the　Break　of　Day　chirpingly　explained；　calling　between
whiles；　'Hola；　my　husband！'　out　at　the　side　door。

My　husband　answered　at　length；　'It　is　I；　my　wife！'　and　presenting
himself　in　his　cook's　cap；　lighted　the　traveller　up　a　steep　and　narrow
staircase；　the　traveller　carrying　his　own　cloak　and　knapsack；　and
bidding　the　landlady　good　night　with　a　plimentary　reference　to　the
pleasure　of　seeing　her　again　to…morrow。　It　was　a　large　room；　with　a
rough　splintery　floor；　unplastered　rafters　overhead；　and　two　bedsteads
on　opposite　sides。　Here　'my　husband'　put　down　the　candle　he　carried；　and
with　a　sidelong　look　at　his　guest　stooping　over　his　knapsack；　gruffly
gave　him　the　instruction；　'The　bed　to　the　right！'　and　left　him　to　his
repose。　The　landlord；　whether　he　was　a　good　or　a　bad　physiognomist；　had
fully　made　up　his　mind　that　the　guest　was　an　ill…looking　fellow。

The　guest　looked　contemptuously　at　the　clean　coarse　bedding　prepared　for
him；　and；　sitting　down　on　the　rush　chair　at　the　bedside；　drew　his　money
out　of　his　pocket；　and　told　it　over　in　his　hand。　'One　must　eat；'　he
muttered　to　himself；　'but　by　Heaven　I　must　eat　at　the　cost　of　some　other
man　to…morrow！'

As　he　sat　pondering；　and　mechanically　weighing　his　money　in　his　palm；
the　deep　breathing　of　the　traveller　in　the　other　bed　fell　so　regularly
upon　his　hearing　that　it　attracted　his　eyes　in　that　direction。　The　man
was　covered　up　warm；　and　had　drawn　the　white　curtain　at　his　head；　so
that　he　could　be　only　heard；　not　seen。　But　the　deep　regular　breathing；
still　going　on　while　the　other　was　taking　off　his　worn　shoes　and
gaiters；　and　still　continuing　when　he　had　laid　aside　his　coat　and
cravat；　became　at　length　a　strong　provocative　to　curiosity；　and
incentive　to　get　a　glimpse　of　the　sleeper's　face。

The　waking　traveller；　therefore；　stole　a　little　nearer；　and　yet　a　little
nearer；　and　a　little　nearer　to　the　sleeping　traveller's　bed；　until　he
stood　close　beside　it。　Even　then　he　could　not　see　his　face；　for　he　had
drawn　the　sheet　over　it。　The　regular　breathing　still　continuing；　he　put
his　smooth　white　hand　（such　a　treacherous　hand　it　looked；　as　it　went
creeping　from　him！）　to　the　sheet；　and　gently　lifted　it　away。

'Death　of　my　soul！'　he　whispered；　falling　back；　'here's　Cavalletto！'

The　little　Italian；　previously　influenced　in　his　sleep；　perhaps；　by　the
stealthy　presence　at　his　bedside；　stopped　in　his　regular　breathing；　and
with　a　long　deep　respiration　opened　his　eyes。　At　first　they　were　not
awake；　though　open。　He　lay　for　some　seconds　looking　placidly　at　his
old　prison　panion；　and　then；　all　at　once；　with　a　cry　of　surprise　and
alarm；　sprang　out　of　bed。

'Hush！　What's　the　matter？　Keep　quiet！　It's　I。　You　know　me？'　cried　the
other；　in　a　suppressed　voice。

But　John　Baptist；　widely　staring；　muttering　a　number　of　invocations
and　ejaculations；　tremblingly　backing　into　a　corner；　slipping　on
his　trousers；　and　tying　his　coat　by　the　two　sleeves　round　his　neck；
manifested　an　unmistakable　desire　to　escape　by　the　door　rather　than
renew　the　acquaintance。　Seeing　this；　his　old　prison　rade　fell　back
upon　the　door；　and　set　his　shoulders　against　it。

'Cavalletto！　Wake；　boy！　Rub　your　eyes　and　look　at　me。　Not　the　name　you
used　to　call　me……don't　use　that……Lagnier；　say　Lagnier！'

John　Baptist；　staring　at　him　with　eyes　opened　to　their　utmost　width；
made　a　number　of　those　national；　backhanded　shakes　of　the　right
forefinger　in　the　air；　as　if　he　were　resolved　on　negativing　beforehand
everything　that　the　other　could　possibly　advance　during　the　whole　term
of　his　life。

'Cavalletto！　Give　me　your　hand。　You　know　Lagnier；　the　gentleman。　Touch
the　hand　of　a　gentleman！'

Submitting　himself　to　the　old　tone　of　condescending　authority；　John
Baptist；　not　at　all　steady　on　his　legs　as　yet；　advanced　and　put　his
hand　in　his　patron's。　Monsieur　Lagnier　laughed；　and　having　given　it　a
squeeze；　tossed　it　up　and　let　it　go。

'Then　you　were……'　faltered　John　Baptist。

'Not　shaved？　No。　See　here！'　cried　Lagnier；　giving　his　head　a　twirl；　'as
tight　on　as　your　own。'

John　Baptist；　with　a　slight　shiver；　looked　all　round　the　room　as　if　to
recall　where　he　was。　His　patron　took　that　opportunity　of　turning　the　key
in　the　door；　and　then　sat　down　upon　his　bed。

'Look！'　he　said；　holding　up　his　shoes　and　gaiters。　'That's　a　poor　trim
for　a　gentleman；　you'll　say。　No　matter；　you　shall　see　how　Soon　I'll　mend
it。　e　and　sit　down。　Take　your　old　place！'

John　Baptist；　looking　anything　but　reassured；　sat　down　on　the　floor　at
the　bedside；　keeping　his　eyes　upon　his　patron　all　the　time。

'That's　well！'　cried　Lagnier。　'Now　we　might　be　in　the　old　infernal　hole
again；　hey？　How　long　have　you　been　out？'

'Two　days　after　you；　my　master。'

'How　do　you　e　here？'

'I　was　cautioned　not　to　stay　there；　and　so　I　left　the　town　at　once；
and　since　then　I　have　changed　about。　I　have　been　doing　odds　and　ends　at
Avignon；　at　Pont　Esprit；　at　Lyons；　upon　the　Rhone；　upon　the　Saone。'　As
he　spoke；　he　rapidly　mapped　the　places　out　with　his　sunburnt　hand　upon
the　floor。　'And　where　are　you　going？'

'Going；　my　master？'

'Ay！'

John　Baptist　seemed　to　desire　to　evade　the　question　without　knowing　how。
'By　Bacchus！'　he　said　at　last；　as　if　he　were　forced　to　the　admission；　'I
have　sometimes　had　a　thought　of　going　to　Paris；　and　perhaps　to　England。'

'Cavalletto。　This　is　in　confidence。　I　also　am　going　to　Paris　and　perhaps
to　England。　We'll　go　together。'

The　little　man　nodded　his　head；　and　showed　his　teeth；　and　yet　seemed　not
quite　convinced　that　it　was　a　surpassingly　desirable　arrangement。

'We'll　go　together；'　repeated　Lagnier。　'You　shall　see　how　soon　I　will
force　myself　to　be　recognised　as　a　gentleman；　and　you　shall　profit　by
it。　It　is　agreed？　Are　we　one？'

'Oh；　surely；　surely！'　said　the　little　man。

'Then　you　shall　hear　before　I　sleep……and　in　six　words；　for　I　want
sleep……how　I　appear　before　you；　I；　Lagnier。　Remember　that。　Not　the
other。'

'Altro；　altro！　Not　Ri……'　Before　John　Baptist　could　finish　the　name；　his
rade　had　got　his　hand　under　his　chin　and　fiercely　shut　up　his　mouth。

'Death！　what　are　you　doing？　Do　you　want　me　to　be　trampled　upon　and
stoned？　Do　YOU　want　to　be　trampled　upon　and　stoned？　You　would　be。　You
don't　imagine　that　they　would　set　upon　me；　and　let　my　prison　chum　go？
Don't　think　it！'　There　was　an　expression　in　his　face　as　he　released　his
grip　of　his　friend's　jaw；　from　which　his　friend　inferred　that　if　the
course　of　events　really　came　to　any　stoning　and　trampling；　Monsieur
Lagnier　would　so　distinguish　him　with　his　notice　as　to　ensure　his
having　his　full　share　of　it。　He　remembered　what　a　cosmopolitan　gentleman
Monsieur　Lagnier　was；　and　how　few　weak　distinctions　he　made。

'I　am　a　man；'　said　Monsieur　Lagnier；　'whom　society　has　deeply　wronged
since　you　last　saw　me。　You　know　that　I　am　sensitive　and　brave；　and　that
it　is　my　character　to　govern。　How　has　society　respected　those　qualities
in　me？　I　have　been　shrieked　at　through　the　streets。　I　have　been　guarded
through　the　streets　against　men；　and　especially　women；　running　at　me
armed　with　any　weapons　they　could　lay　their　hands　on。　I　have　lain　in
prison　for　security；　with　the　place　of　my　confinement　kept　a　secret；
lest　I　should　be　torn　out　of　it　and　felled　by