hard times(艰难时世)-第8章
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the door； and introducing himself with the words； “By your leaves；
gentlemen！” walked in with his hands in his pockets。 His face；
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close…shaven； thin； and sallow； was shaded by a great quantity of
dark hair； brushed into a roll all round his head； and parted up the
centre。 His legs were very robust； but shorter than legs of good
proportions should have been。 His chest and back were as much
too broad； as his legs were too short。 He was dressed in a
Newmarket coat and tight…fitting trousers； wore a shawl round his
neck； smelt of lamp…oil； straw； orange…peel； horse’s provender； and
sawdust； and looked a most remarkable sort of Centaur；
compounded of the stable and the play…house。 Where the one
began； and the other ended； nobody could have told with any
precision。 This gentleman was mentioned in the bills of the day as
Mr E。 W。 B。 Childers； so justly celebrated for his daring vaulting
act as the Wild Huntsman of the North American prairies； in
which popular performance； a diminutive boy with an old face；
who now accompanied him； assisted as his infant son： being
carried upside down over his father’s shoulder； by one foot； and
held by the crown of his head； heels upwards； in the palm of his
father’s hand； according to the violent paternal manner in which
wild huntsmen may be observed to fondle their offspring。 Made up
with curls； wreaths； wings； white bismuth； and carmine； this
hopeful young person soared into so pleasing a Cupid as to
constitute the chief delight of the maternal part of the spectators；
but in private； where his characteristics were a precocious
cutaway coat and an extremely gruff voice； he became of the Turf；
turfy。
“By your leaves； gentlemen；” said Mr E。 W。 B。 Childers；
glancing round the room。 “It was you； I believe； that were wishing
to see Jupe？”
“It was；” said Mr Gradgrind。 “His daughter has gone to fetch
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him； but I can’t wait； therefore； if you please； I will leave a message
for him with you。”
“You see； my friend；” Mr Bounderby put in； “we are the kind of
people who know the value of time； and you are the kind of people
who don’t know the value of time。”
“I have not；” retorted Mr Childers； after surveying him from
head to foot； “the honour of knowing you；—but if you mean that
you can make more money of your time than I can of mine； I
should judge from your appearance； that you are about right。”
“And when you have made it； you can keep it too； I should
think；” said Cupid。
“Kidderminster； stow that！” said Mr Childers。 （Master
Kidderminster was Cupid’s mortal name。） “What does he come
here cheeking us for； then？” cried Master Kidderminster； showing
a very irascible temperament。 “If you want to cheek us； pay your
ochre at the doors and take it out。”
“Kidderminster；” said Mr Childers； raising his voice； “stow
that！—Sir；” to Mr Gradgrind； “I was addressing myself to you。 You
may or you may not be aware （for perhaps you have not been
much in the audience）； that Jupe has missed his tip very often；
lately。”
“Has—what has he missed？” asked Mr Gradgrind； glancing at
the potent Bounderby for assistance。
“Missed his tip。”
“Offered at the Garters four times last night； and never done
’em once；” said Master Kidderminster。 “Missed his tip at the
banners； too； and was loose in his ponging。”
“Didn’t do what he ought to do。 Was short in his leaps and bad
in his tumbling；” Mr Childers interpreted。
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“Oh！” said Mr Gradgrind； “that is tip； is it？”
“In a general way that’s missing his tip；” Mr E。 W。 B。 Childers
answered。
“Nine oils； Merrylegs； missing tips； garters； banners； and
Ponging； eh？” ejaculated Bounderby； with his laugh of laughs。
“Queer sort of company； too； for a man who has raised himself。”
“Lower yourself； then；” retorted Cupid； “Oh Lord！ if you’ve
raised yourself so high as all that comes to； let yourself down a
bit。”
“This is a very obtrusive lad！” said Mr Gradgrind turning； and
knitting his brows on him。
“We’d have had a young gentleman to meet you； if we had
known you were coming；” retorted Master Kidderminster； nothing
abashed。 “It’s a pity you don’t have a bespeak； being so particular。
You’re on the Tight…Jeff； ain’t you？”
“What does this unmannerly boy mean；” asked Mr Gradgrind；
eyeing him in a sort of desperation； “by Tight…Jeff？”
“There！ Get out； get out！” said Mr Childers； thrusting his young
friend from the room； rather in the prairie manner。 “Tight…Jeff or
Slack…Jeff； it don’t much signify： it’s only tight…rope and slack…
rope。 You were going to give me a message for Jupe？”
“Yes； I was。”
“Then；” continued Mr Childers； quickly； “my opinion is； he will
never receive it。 Do you know much of him？”
“I never saw the man in my life。”
“I doubt if you ever will see him now。 It’s pretty plain to me；
he’s off。”
“Do you mean that he has deserted his daughter？”
“Ay！ I mean；” said Mr Childers； with a nod； “that he has cut。 He
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was goosed last night； he was goosed the night before last； he was
goosed today。 He has lately got in the way of being always goosed；
and he can’t stand it。”
“Why has he been—so very much—Goosed？” asked Mr
Gradgrind； forcing the word out of himself； with great solemnity
and reluctance。
“His joints are turning stiff； and he is getting used up；” said
Childers。 “He has his points as a Cackler still； but he can’t get a
living out of them。”
“A Cackler！” Bounderby repeated。 “Here we go again！”
“A speaker； if the gentleman likes it better；” said Mr E。 W。 B。
Childers； superciliously throwing the interpretation over his
shoulder； and accompanying it with a shake of his long hair—
which all shook at once。 “Now； it’s a remarkable fact； sir； that it
cut that man deeper； to know that his daughter knew of his being
goosed； than to go through with it。”
“Good！” interrupted Mr Bounderby。 “This is good； Gradgrind！
A man so fond of his daughter； that he runs away from her！ This is
devilish good！ Ha！ ha！ Now； I’ll tell you what； young man。 I haven’t
always occupied my present station of life。 I know what these
things are。 You may be astonished to hear it； but my mother ran
away from me。”
E。 W。 B。 Childers replied pointedly that he was not at all
astonished to hear it。
“Very well；” said Bounderby。 “I was born in a ditch； and my
mother ran away from me。 Do I excuse her for it？ No。 Have I ever
excused her for it？ Not I。 What do I call her for it？ I call her
probably the very worst woman that ever lived in the world；
except my drunken grandmother。 There’s no family pride about；
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me there’s no imaginative sentimental humbug about me； there’s
no imaginative sentimental humbug about me。 I call a spade a
spade； and I call the mother of Josiah Bounderby of Coketown；
without any fear or any favour； what I should call her if she had
been the mother of Dick Jones of Wapping。 So； with this man。 He
is a runaway rogue and a vagabond； that’s what he is； in English。”
“It’s all the same to me what he is or what he is not； whether in
English or whether in French；” retorted Mr E。 W。 B。 Childers；
facing about。 “I am telling your friend what’s the fact； if you don’t
like to hear it； you can avail yourself of the open air。 You give it
mouth enough； you do； but give it mouth in your own building at
least；” remonstrated E。 W。 B。 with stern irony。 “Don’t give it
mouth in this building； till you’re called upon。 You have got some
building of your own； I dare say； now？”
“Perhaps so；” replied Mr Bounderby； rattling his money and
laughing。
“Then give it mouth in your own building； will you； if you
please？” said Childers。 “Because this isn’t a strong building； and
too much of you might bring it down！”
Eyeing Mr Bounderby from head to foot again； he turned from
him； as from a man finally disposed of； to Mr Gradgrind。
“Jupe sent his daughter out on an errand not an hour ago； and
then was seen to slip out himself； with his hat over his eyes and a
bundle tied up in a handkerchief under his arm。 She will never
believe it of him； but he has cut away and left her。”
“Pray；” said Mr Gradgrind； “why will she never believe it of
him？”
“Because those two were one。 Because they were never
asunder。 Because； up to this time； he seemed to dote upon her；”
Charles Dickens
