little dorrit-信丽(英文版)-第28章

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was　faded；　when　the　youthful　actors　were　dead；　when　the　orchestra　was
empty；　when　the　lights　were　out。　And　still；　through　all　this　grotesque
revival　of　what　he　remembered　as　having　once　been　prettily　natural　to
her；　he　could　not　but　feel　that　it　revived　at　sight　of　him；　and　that
there　was　a　tender　memory　in　it。

The　Patriarch　insisted　on　his　staying　to　dinner；　and　Flora　signalled
'Yes！'　Clennam　so　wished　he　could　have　done　more　than　stay　to　dinner……so
heartily　wished　he　could　have　found　the　Flora　that　had　been；　or　that
never　had　been……that　he　thought　the　least　atonement　he　could　make　for
the　disappointment　he　almost　felt　ashamed　of；　was　to　give　himself　up　to
the　family　desire。　Therefore；　he　stayed　to　dinner。

Pancks　dined　with　them。　Pancks　steamed　out　of　his　little　dock　at　a
quarter　before　six；　and　bore　straight　down　for　the　Patriarch；　who
happened　to　be　then　driving；　in　an　inane　manner；　through　a　stagnant
account　of　Bleeding　Heart　Yard。　Pancks　instantly　made　fast　to　him　and
hauled　him　out。

'Bleeding　Heart　Yard？'　said　Pancks；　with　a　puff　and　a　snort。　'It's　a
troublesome　property。　Don't　pay　you　badly；　but　rents　are　very　hard　to
get　there。　You　have　more　trouble　with　that　one　place　than　with　all　the
places　belonging　to　you。'

Just　as　the　big　ship　in　tow　gets　the　credit；　with　most　spectators；　of
being　the　powerful　object；　so　the　Patriarch　usually　seemed　to　have　said
himself　whatever　Pancks　said　for　him。

'Indeed？'　returned　Clennam；　upon　whom　this　impression　was　so　efficiently
made　by　a　mere　gleam　of　the　polished　head　that　he　spoke　the　ship　instead
of　the　Tug。　'The　people　are　so　poor　there？'

'You　can't　say；　you　know；'　snorted　Pancks；　taking　one　of　his　dirty　hands
out　of　his　rusty　iron…grey　pockets　to　bite　his　nails；　if　he　could　find
any；　and　turning　his　beads　of　eyes　upon　his　employer；　'whether　they're
poor　or　not。　They　say　they　are；　but　they　all　say　that。　When　a　man　says
he's　rich；　you're　generally　sure　he　isn't。　Besides；　if　they　ARE　poor；
you　can't　help　it。　You'd　be　poor　yourself　if　you　didn't　get　your　rents。'

'True　enough；'　said　Arthur。

'You're　not　going　to　keep　open　house　for　all　the　poor　of　London；'
pursued　Pancks。　'You're　not　going　to　lodge　'em　for　nothing。　You're　not
going　to　open　your　gates　wide　and　let　'em　e　free。　Not　if　you　know　it；
you　ain't。'

Mr　Casby　shook　his　head；　in　Placid　and　benignant　generality。

'If　a　man　takes　a　room　of　you　at　half…a…crown　a　week；　and　when　the　week
es　round　hasn't　got　the　half…crown；　you　say　to　that　man；　Why　have　you
got　the　room；　then？　If　you　haven't　got　the　one　thing；　why　have　you　got
the　other？　What　have　you　been　and　done　with　your　money？　What　do　you　mean
by　it？　What　are　you　up　to？　That's　what　YOU　say　to　a　man　of　that　sort；
and　if　you　didn't　say　it；　more　shame　for　you！'　Mr　Pancks　here　made　a
singular　and　startling　noise；　produced　by　a　strong　blowing　effort　in　the
region　of　the　nose；　unattended　by　any　result　but　that　acoustic　one。

'You　have　some　extent　of　such　property　about　the　east　and　north…east
here；　I　believe？'　said　Clennam；　doubtful　which　of　the　two　to　address。

'Oh；　pretty　well；'　said　Pancks。　'You're　not　particular　to　east　or
north…east；　any　point　of　the　pass　will　do　for　you。　What　you　want　is
a　good　investment　and　a　quick　return。　You　take　it　where　you　can　find　it。
You　ain't　nice　as　to　situation……not　you。'

There　was　a　fourth　and　most　original　figure　in　the　Patriarchal　tent；　who
also　appeared　before　dinner。　This　was　an　amazing　little　old　woman；　with
a　face　like　a　staring　wooden　doll　too　cheap　for　expression；　and　a　stiff
yellow　wig　perched　unevenly　on　the　top　of　her　head；　as　if　the　child　who
owned　the　doll　had　driven　a　tack　through　it　anywhere；　so　that　it　only
got　fastened　on。　Another　remarkable　thing　in　this　little　old　woman　was；
that　the　same　child　seemed　to　have　damaged　her　face　in　two　or　three
places　with　some　blunt　instrument　in　the　nature　of　a　spoon；　her
countenance；　and　particularly　the　tip　of　her　nose；　presenting　the
phenomena　of　several　dints；　generally　answering　to　the　bowl　of　that
article。　A　further　remarkable　thing　in　this　little　old　woman　was；　that
she　had　no　name　but　Mr　F。's　Aunt。

She　broke　upon　the　visitor's　view　under　the　following　circumstances：
Flora　said　when　the　first　dish　was　being　put　on　the　table；　perhaps　Mr
Clennam　might　not　have　heard　that　Mr　F。　had　left　her　a　legacy？　Clennam
in　return　implied　his　hope　that　Mr　F。　had　endowed　the　wife　whom　he
adored；　with　the　greater　part　of　his　worldly　substance；　if　not　with　all。
Flora　said；　oh　yes；　she　didn't　mean　that；　Mr　F。　had　made　a　beautiful
will；　but　he　had　left　her　as　a　separate　legacy；　his　Aunt。　She　then
went　out　of　the　room　to　fetch　the　legacy；　and；　on　her　return；　rather
triumphantly　presented　'Mr　F。's　Aunt。'

The　major　characteristics　discoverable　by　the　stranger　in　Mr　F。's　Aunt；
were　extreme　severity　and　grim　taciturnity；　sometimes　interrupted　by
a　propensity　to　offer　remarks　in　a　deep　warning　voice；　which；　being
totally　uncalled　for　by　anything　said　by　anybody；　and　traceable　to　no
association　of　ideas；　confounded　and　terrified　the　Mind。　Mr　F。's　Aunt
may　have　thrown　in　these　observations　on　some　system　of　her　own；　and　it
may　have　been　ingenious；　or　even　subtle：　but　the　key　to　it　was　wanted。
The　neatly…served　and　well…cooked　dinner　（for　everything　about　the
Patriarchal　household　promoted　quiet　digestion）　began　with　some　soup；
some　fried　soles；　a　butter…boat　of　shrimp　sauce；　and　a　dish　of　potatoes。
The　conversation　still　turned　on　the　receipt　of　rents。　Mr　F。's　Aunt；
after　regarding　the　pany　for　ten　minutes　with　a　malevolent　gaze；
delivered　the　following　fearful　remark：

'When　we　lived　at　Henley；　Barnes's　gander　was　stole　by　tinkers。'　Mr
Pancks　courageously　nodded　his　head　and　said；　'All　right；　ma'am。'　But
the　effect　of　this　mysterious　munication　upon　Clennam　was　absolutely
to　frighten　him。　And　another　circumstance　invested　this　old　lady　with
peculiar　terrors。　Though　she　was　always　staring；　she　never　acknowledged
that　she　saw　any　individual。

The　polite　and　attentive　stranger　would　desire；　say；　to　consult　her
inclinations　on　the　subject　of　potatoes。　His　expressive　action　would　be
hopelessly　lost　upon　her；　and　what　could　he　do？　No　man　could　say；　'Mr
F。's　Aunt；　will　you　permit　me？'　Every　man　retired　from　the　spoon；　as
Clennam　did；　cowed　and　baffled。

There　was　mutton；　a　steak；　and　an　apple…pie……nothing　in　the　remotest
way　connected　with　ganders……and　the　dinner　went　on　like　a　disenchanted
feast；　as　it　truly　was。　Once　upon　a　time　Clennam　had　sat　at　that　table
taking　no　heed　of　anything　but　Flora；　now　the　principal　heed　he　took
of　Flora　was　to　observe；　against　his　will；　that　she　was　very　fond　of
porter；　that　she　bined　a　great　deal　of　sherry　with　sentiment；　and
that　if　she　were　a　little　overgrown；　it　was　upon　substantial　grounds。
The　last　of　the　Patriarchs　had　always　been　a　mighty　eater；　and　he
disposed　of　an　immense　quantity　of　solid　food　with　the　benignity　of　a
good　soul　who　was　feeding　some　one　else。　Mr　Pancks；　who　was　always　in　a
hurry；　and　who　referred　at　intervals　to　a　little　dirty　notebook　which　he
kept　beside　him　（perhaps　containing　the　names　of　the　defaulters　he　meant
to　look　up　by　way　of　dessert）；　took　in　his　victuals　much　as　if　he　were
coaling；　with　a　good　deal　of　noise；　a　good　deal　of　dropping　about；　and　a
puff　and　a　snort　occasionally；　as　if　he　were　nearly　ready　to　steam　away。

All　through　dinner；　Flora　bined　her　present　appetite　for　eating　and
drinking　with　her　past　appetite　for　romantic　love；　in　a　way　that　made
Clennam　afraid　to　lift　his　eyes　from　his　plate；　since　he　could　not
look　towards　her　without　receiving　some　glance　of　mysterious　meaning　or
warning；　as　if　they　were　engaged　in　a　plot。　Mr　F。's　Aunt　sat　silently
defying　him　with　an　aspect　of　the　greatest　bitterness；　until　the　removal
of　the　cloth　and　the　appearance　of　the　decanters；　when　she　originated
another　observation……struck　into　the　conversation　like　a　clock；　without
consulting　anybody。

Flora　had　just　said；　'Mr　Clennam；　will　you　give　me　a　glass　of　port　for
Mr　F。's　Aunt？'

'The　Monument　near　London　Bridge；'　that　lady　instantly　proclaimed；　'was
put　up　arter　the　Great　Fire　of　London；　and　the　Great　Fire　of　London　was
not　the　fire　in　which　your　uncle　George's　workshops　was　burned　down。'

Mr　Pancks；　with　his　former　courage；　said；　'Indeed；　ma'am？　All　right！'
But　appearing　to　be　incensed　by　imaginary　contradiction；　or　other
ill…usage；　Mr　F。's　Aunt；　instead　of　relapsing　into　silence；　made　the
following　additional　proclamation：

'I　hate　a　fool！'

She　imparted　to　this　sentiment；　in　itself　almost　Solomonic；　so　extremely
injurious　and　personal　a　character　by　levelling　it　straight　at　the
visitor's　head；　that　it　became　necessary　to　lead　Mr　F。's　Aunt　from
the　room。　This　was　quietly　done　by　Flora；　Mr　F。's　Aunt　offering　no
resistance；　but　inquiring　on　her　way　out；　'What　he　e　there　for；
then？'　with　implacable　animosity。

When　Flora　returned；　she　explained　that　her　legacy　was　a　clever
old　lady；　but　was　sometimes　a　little　singular；　and　'took
dislikes'……peculiarities　of　which　Flora　seemed　to　be　proud　rather　than
otherwise。　As　Flora's　good　nature　shone　in　the　case；　Clennam　had　no
fault　to　find　with　the　old　lady　for　eliciting　it；　now　that　he　was
relieved　from　the　terrors　of　her　presence；　and　they　took　a　glass　or
two　of　wine　in　peace。　Foreseeing　then　that　the　Pancks　would　shortly　get
under　weigh；　and　that　the　Patriarch　would　go　to　sleep；　he　pleaded　the
necessity　of　visiting　his　mother；　and　asked　Mr　Pancks　in　which　direction
he　was　going？

'Citywards；　sir；'　said　Pancks。　'Shall　we　walk　together？'　said　Arthur。

'Quite　agreeable；'　said　Pancks。

Meanwhile　Flora　was　murmuring　in　rapid　snatches　for　his　ear；　that　there
was　a　time　and　that　the　past　was　a　yawning　gulf　however　and　that　a
golden　chain　no　longer　bound　him　and　that　she　revered　the　memory　of　the
late　Mr　F。　and　that　she　should　be　at　home　to…morrow　at　half…past　one
and　that　the　decrees　of　Fate　were　beyond　recall　and　that　she　considered
nothing　so　improbable　as　that　he　ever　walked　on　the　north…west　side　of
Gray's…Inn　Gardens　at　exactly　four　o'clock　in　the　afternoon。　He　tried
at　parting　to　give　his　hand　in　frankness　to　the　existing　Flora……not　the
vanished　Flora；　or　the　mermaid……but　Flora　wouldn't　have　it；　couldn't
have　it；　was　wholly　destitute　of　the　power　of　separating　herself　and　him
from　their　bygone　characters。　He　left　the　house　miserably　enough；　and
so　much　more　light…headed　than　ever；　that　if　it　had　not　been　his　good
fortune　to　be　towed　away；　he　might；　for　the　first　quarter　of　an　hour；
have　drifted　anywhere。

When　he　began　to　e　to　himself；　in　the　cooler　air　and　the　absence　of
Flora；　he　found　Pancks　at　full　speed；　cropping　such　scanty　pasturage　of
nails　as　he　could　find；　and　snorting　at　intervals。　These；　in　conjunction
with　one　hand　in　his　pocket　and　his　roughened　hat　hind　side　before；　were
evidently　the　conditions　under　which　he　reflected。

'A　fresh　night！'　said　Arthur。

'Yes；　it's　pretty　fresh；'　assented　Pancks。　'As　a　stranger　you　feel　the
climate　more　than　I　do；　I　dare　say。　Indeed　I　haven't　got　time　to　feel
it。'

'You　lead　such　a　busy　life？'

'Yes；　I　have　always　some　of　'em　to　look　up；　or　something　to　look　after。
But　I　like　business；'　said　Pancks；　getting　on　a　little　faster。　'What's　a
man　made　for？'

'For　nothing　else？'　said　Clennam。

Pancks　put　the　counter　question；　'What　else？'　It　packed　up；　in　the
smallest　pass；　a　weight　that　had　rested　on　Clennam's　life；　and　he
made　no　answer。

'That's　what　I　ask　our　weekly　tenants；'　said　Pancks。　'Some　of　'em　will
pull　long　faces　to　me；　and　say；　Poor　as　you　see　us；　master；　we're　always
grinding；　drudging；　toiling；　every　minute　we're　awake。

I　say　to　them；　What　else　are　you　made　for？　It　shuts　them　up。　They
haven't　a　word　to　answer。　What　else　are　you　made　for？　That　clinches　it。'

'Ah　dear；　dear；　dear！'　sighed　Clennam。

'Here　am　I；'　said　Pancks；　pursuing　his　argument　with　the　weekly　tenant。
'What　else　do　you　suppose　I　think　I　am　made　for？　Nothing。

Rattle　me　out　of　bed　early；　set　me　going；　give　me　as　short　a　time　as　you
like　to　bolt　my　meals　in；　and　keep　me　at　it。　Keep　me　always　at　it；　and
I'll　keep　you　always　at　it；　you　keep　somebody　else　always　at　it。　There
you　are　with　the　Whole　Duty　of　Man　in　a　mercial　country。'

When　they　had　walked　a　little　further　in　silence；　Clennam　said：　'Have
you　no　taste　for　anything；　Mr　Pancks？'

'What's　taste？'　drily　retorted　Pancks。

'Let　us　say　inclination。'

'I　have　an　inclination　to　get　money；　sir；'　said　Pancks；　'if　you　will
show　me　how。'　He　blew　off　that　sound　again；　and　it　occurred　to　his
panion　for　the　first　time　that　it　was　his　way　of　laughing。　He　was　a
singular　man　in　all　respects；　he　might　not　have　been　quite　in　earnest；
but　that　the　short；　hard；　rapid　manner　in　which　he　shot　out　these
cinders　of　principles；　as　if　it　were　done　by　mechanical　revolvency；
seemed　irreconcilable　with　banter。

'You　are　no　great　reader；　I　suppose？'　said　Clennam。

'Never　read　anything　but　letters　and　accounts。　Never　collect　anything
but　advertisements　relative　to　next　of　kin。　If　that's　a　taste；　I　have
got　that。　You're　not　of　the　Clennams　of　Cornwall；　Mr　Clennam？'

'Not　that　I　ever　heard　of。'　'I　know　you're　not。　I　asked　your　mother；
sir。　She