hard times(艰难时世)-第29章
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the gentleman to be shown in； ma’am？”
“I don’t know who it can be；” said Mrs Sparsit； wiping her
mouth and arranging her mittens。
“A stranger； ma’am； evidently。”
“What a stranger can want at the Bank at this time of the
evening； unless he comes upon some business for which he is too
late； I don’t know；” said Mrs Sparsit； “but I hold a charge in this
establishment from Mr Bounderby； and I will never shrink from it。
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If to see him is any part of the duty I have accepted； I will see him。
Use your own discretion； Bitzer。”
Here； the visitor； all unconscious of Mrs Sparsit’s magnanimous
words； repeated his knock so loudly that the light porter hastened
down to open the door； while Mrs Sparsit took the precaution of
concealing her little table； with all its appliances upon it； in a
cupboard； and then decamped up stairs that she might appear； if
needful； with the greater dignity。
“If you please； ma’am； the gentleman would wish to see you；”
said Bitzer； with his light eye at Mrs Sparsit’s keyhole。 So； Mrs
Sparsit； who had improved the interval by touching up her cap；
took her classical features downstairs again； and entered the
boardroom in the manner of a Roman matron going outside the
city walls to treat with an invading general。
The visitor having strolled to the window； and being then
engaged in looking carelessly out； was as unmoved by this
impressive entry as man could possibly be。 He stood whistling to
himself with all imaginable coolness； with his hat still on； and a
certain air of exhaustion upon him； in part arising from excessive
summer； and in part from excessive gentility。 For； it was to be
seen with half an eye that he was a thorough gentleman； made to
the model of the time； weary of everything and putting no more
faith in anything than Lucifer。
“I believe； sir；” quoth Mrs Sparsit； “you wished to see me。”
“I beg your pardon；” he said； turning and removing his hat；
“pray excuse me。”
“Humph！” thought Mrs Sparsit； as she made a stately bend。
“Five and thirty； good…looking； good figure； good teeth； good voice；
good breeding； well…dressed； dark hair； bold eyes。” All which Mrs
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Sparsit observed in her womanly way—like the Sultan who put his
head in the pail of water—merely in dipping down and coming up
again。
“Please to be seated； sir；” said Mrs Sparsit。
“Thank you。 Allow me。” He placed a chair for her； but
remained himself carelessly lounging against the table。 “I left my
servant at the railway looking after the luggage—very heavy train
and vast quantity of it in the van—and strolled on； looking about
me。 Exceedingly odd place。 Will you allow me to ask you if it’s
always as black as this？”
“In general much blacker；” returned Mrs Sparsit； in her
uncompromising way。
“Is it possible！ Excuse me： you are not a native； I think？”
“No； sir；” returned Mrs Sparsit。 “It was once my good or ill
fortune； as it may be—before I became a widow—to move in a very
different sphere。 My husband was a Powler。”
“Beg your pardon； really！” said the stranger。 “Was—”
Mrs Sparsit repeated； “A Powler。”
“Powler Family；” said the stranger； after reflecting a few
moments。 Mrs Sparsit signified assent。 The stranger seemed a
little more fatigued than before。
“You must be very much bored here？” was the inference he
drew from the communication。
“I am the servant of circumstances； sir；” said Mrs Sparsit； “and
I have long adapted myself to the governing power of my life。”
“Very philosophical；” returned the stranger； “and very
exemplary and laudable； and—” It seemed to be scarcely worth his
while to finish the sentence； so he played with his watch…chain
wearily。
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“May I be permitted to ask； sir；” said Mrs Sparsit； “to what I am
indebted for the favour of—”
“Assuredly；” said the stranger。 “Much obliged to you for
reminding me。 I am the bearer of a letter of introduction to Mr
Bounderby the banker。 Walking through this extraordinarily black
town； while they were getting dinner ready at the hotel； I asked a
fellow whom I met； one of the working people； who appeared to
have been taking a shower…bath of something fluffy； which I
assume to be the raw material—”
Mrs Sparsit inclined her head。
“—Raw material—where Mr Bounderby the banker； might
reside。 Upon which； misled no doubt by the word Banker； he
directed me to the Bank。 Fact being； I presume； that Mr
Bounderby the Banker； does not reside in the edifice in which I
have the honour of offering this explanation？”
“No； sir；” returned Mrs Sparsit； “he does not。”
“Thank you。 I had no intention of delivering my letter at the
present moment； nor have I。 But； strolling on to the Bank to kill
time； and having the good fortune to observe at the window；”
towards which he languidly waved his hand； then slightly bowed；
“a lady of a very superior and agreeable appearance； I considered
that I could not do better than take the liberty of asking that lady
where Mr Bounderby the Banker does live。 Which I accordingly
venture； with all suitable apologies； to do。”
The inattention and indolence of his manner were sufficiently
relieved； to Mrs Sparsit’s thinking； by a certain gallantry at ease；
which offered her homage too。 Here he was； for instance； at this
moment； all but sitting on the table； and yet lazily bending over
her； as if he acknowledged an attraction in her that made her
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charming—in her way。
“Banks； I know； are always suspicious； and officially must be；”
said the stranger； whose lightness and smoothness of speech were
pleasant likewise； suggesting matter far more sensible and
humorous than it ever contained—which was perhaps a shrewd
device of the founder of this numerous sect； whosoever may have
been that great man； “therefore I may observe that my letter—
here it is—is from the member for this place—Gradgrind—whom I
have had the pleasure of knowing in London。”
Mrs Sparsit recognised the hand； intimated that such
confirmation was quite unnecessary； and gave Mr Bounderby’s
address； with all needful clues and directions in aid。
“Thousand thanks；” said the stranger。 “Of course you know the
Banker well？”
“Yes； sir；” rejoined Mrs Sparsit。 “In my dependent relation
towards him； I have known him ten years。”
“Quite an eternity！ I think he married Gradgrind’s daughter？”
“Yes；” said Mrs Sparsit； suddenly compressing her mouth。 “He
had that—honour。”
“The lady is quite a philosopher； I am told？”
“Indeed； sir；” said Mrs Sparsit。 “Is she？”
“Excuse my impertinent curiosity；” pursued the stranger；
fluttering over Mrs Sparsit’s eyebrows； with a propitiatory air；
“but you know the family； and know the world。 I am about to know
the family； and may have much to do with them。 Is the lady so very
alarming？ Her father gives her such a portentously hard…headed
reputation； that I have a burning desire to know。 Is she absolutely
unapproachable？ Repellently and stunningly clever？ I see； by
your meaning smile； you think not。 You have poured balm into my
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anxious soul。 As to age； now。 Forty！ Five and thirty？”
Mrs Sparsit laughed outright。 “A chit；” said she。 “Not twenty
when she was married。”
“I give you my honour； Mrs Powler；” returned the stranger；
detaching himself from the table； “that I never was so astonished
in my life！”
It really did seem to impress him； to the utmost extent of his
capacity of being impressed。 He looked at his informant for full a
quarter of a minute； and appeared to have the surprise in his mind
all the time。 “I assure you； Mrs Powler；” he then said； much
exhausted； “that the father’s manner prepared me for a grim and
stony maturity。 I am obliged to you； of all things； for correcting so
absurd a mistake。 Pray excuse my intrusion Many thanks。 Good
day！”
He bowed himself out； and Mrs Sparsit； hiding in the window…
curtain； saw him languishing down the street on the shady side of
the way； observed of all the town。
“What do you think of the gentleman； Bitzer？” she asked the
light porter； when he came to take away。
“Spends a deal of money on his dress； ma’am。”
“It must be admitted；” said Mrs Sparsit； “that it’s very tasteful”。
“Yes； ma’am；” returned Bitzer； “if that’s worth the money。”
“Besides which； ma’am；” resumed Bitzer； while he was
polishing the table； “he looks to me as if he gamed。”
“It’s immoral to game；” said Mrs Sparsit。
“It’s ridic
