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第82章

bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第82章

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both hands to  embrace  him。   “Never!  Never;   my  dear  friend!  But 

my friend in the city that I got to lend you the money—he might!” 

    “O!  you  can’t  answer  for  him?”   says   Mr   George;   finishing   the 

inquiry; in his lower key; with the words “you lying old rascal!” 

    “My dear friend; he is not to be depended on。 I wouldn’t trust 

him。 He will have his bond; my dear friend。” 

    “Devil   doubt  him;” says   Mr  George。   Charley  appearing  with  a 

tray;   on   which   are   the   pipe;   a   small   paper   of   tobacco;   and   the 

brandy   and      water;   he   asks  her;   “How    do   you   come    here!   you 

haven’t got the family face。” 

    “I goes out to work; sir;” returns Charley。 

    The trooper (if trooper he be or have been) takes her bonnet off; 

with a light touch for so strong a hand; and pats her on the head。 

“You   give   the   house   almost   a   wholesome   look。   It   wants   a   bit   of 

youth as much as it wants fresh air。” Then he dismisses her; lights 

his pipe; and drinks to Mr Smallweed’s friend in the city—the one 

solitary flight of that esteemed old gentleman’s imagination。 

    “So you think he might be hard upon me; eh?” 

    “I think he might—I am afraid he would。 I have known him to 

do it;” says Grandfather Smallweed; incautiously; “twenty times。” 

    Incautiously;     because     his  stricken    better…half;   who    has   been 

dozing over the fire for some time; is instantly aroused and jabbers 

“Twenty       thousand      pounds;     twenty    twenty…pound        notes    in  a 

moneybox;        twenty     guineas;    twenty     million    twenty    per    cent; 

twenty—”   and is   then cut  short  by  the   flying  cushion;   which   the 

visitor; to whom the singular experiment appears to be a novelty; 

snatches from her face as it crushes her in the usual manner。 

    “You’re     a  brimstone      idiot。  You’re    a  scorpion—a       brimstone 



Charles Dickens                                                     ElecBook Classics 


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scorpion! You’re a sweltering toad。 You’re a chattering clattering 

broomstick   witch;   that   ought   to   be   burnt!”   gasps      the  old   man; 

prostrate   in   his   chair。   “My   dear   friend;   will   you   shake   me   up   a 

little?” 

    Mr George; who has been looking first at one of them and then 

at   the    other;   as   if  he  were     demented;      takes    his   venerable 

acquaintance by the throat on receiving this request; and dragging 

him upright in his chair as easily as if he were a doll; appears   in 

two minds whether or no to shake all future power of cushioning 

out of him; and shake him into his grave。 Resisting the temptation; 

but   agitating   him   violently   enough   to   make   his   head   roll   like   a 

harlequin’s;   he     puts   him   smartly   down     in  his   chair   again;  and 

adjusts his skull…cap with such a rub; that the old man winks both 

eyes for a minute afterwards。 

    “O Lord!” gasps Mr Smallweed。 That’ll do。 Thank you; my dear 

friend; that’ll do。 O dear me; I’m out of breath。 O Lord!” And Mr 

Smallweed says it; not without evident apprehensions of his dear 

friend; who still stands over him looming larger than ever。 

    The    alarming   presence;      however;     gradually   subsides      into  its 

chair; and falls to smoking in long puffs; consoling itself with the 

philosophical      reflection;    “The   name     of  your   friend    in  the  city 

begins a D; comrade; and you’re about right respecting the bond。” 

    “Did you speak; Mr George?” inquires the old man。 

    The trooper shakes his head; and leaning forward with his right 

elbow on his right knee and his pipe supported in that hand; while 

his other hand; resting on his left leg; squares   his left  elbow  in a 

martial   manner;   continues   to   smoke。   Meanwhile   he   looks   at   Mr 

Smallweed with grave attention; and now and then fans the cloud 

of smoke away; in order that he may see him the more clearly。 



Charles Dickens                                                     ElecBook Classics 


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                                  Bleak House                                    416 



    “I take it;” he says; making just as much and as little change in 

his position as will enable him to reach the glass to his lips; with a 

round; full action; “that I am the only man alive (or dead either); 

that gets the value of a pipe out of you?” 

    “Well!” returns the old man; “it’s true that I don’t see company; 

Mr George; and that I don’t treat。 I can’t afford to it。 But as you; in 

your pleasant way; made your pipe a condition—” 

    “Why; it’s not for the value of it; that’s no great thing。 It was a 

fancy to get it out of you。 To have something in for my money。” 

    “Ha!     You’re      prudent;     prudent;      sir!”   cries    Grandfather 

Smallweed; rubbing his legs。 

    “Very。 I always was。” Puff。 “It’s a sure sign of my prudence; that 

I ever found the way here。” Puff。 “Also; that I am what I am。” Puff。 

“I   am   well   known   to   be   prudent;”   says   Mr   George;   composedly 

smoking。 “I rose in life; that way。” 

    “Don’t be down…hearted; sir。 You may rise yet。” 

    Mr George laughs and drinks。 

    “Ha’n’t   you   no   relations;   now;”   asks   Grandfather   Smallweed; 

with a twinkle in his eyes; “who would pay off this little principal; 

or who would lend you a good name or two that I could persuade 

my  friend in   the   city  to  make   you   a   further   advance   upon?   Two 

good   names   would   be   sufficient   for   my   friend   in   the   city。   Ha’n’t 

you no such relations; Mr George?” 

    Mr    George;     still  composedly      smoking;     replies;   “If  I  had;   I 

shouldn’t      trouble    them。    I  have    been    trouble    enough      to  my 

belongings in my day。 It may be a very good sort of penitence in a 

vagabond; who has wasted the best time of his life; to go back then 

to decent people that he never was a credit to; and live upon them; 

but it’s not my sort。 The best kind of amends then; for having gone 



Charles Dickens                                                     ElecBook Classics 


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away; is to keep away; in my opinion。” 

    “But      natural     affection;    Mr     George;”      hints    Grandfather 

Smallweed。 

    “For two good names; hey?” says Mr George; shaking his head; 

and still composedly smoking。 “No。 That’s not my sort; either。” 

    Grandfather Smallweed has been gradually sliding down in his 

chair   since   his   last   adjustment;   and   is   now   a   bundle   of   clothes; 

with  a   voice   in  it  calling  for  Judy。   That   Houri   appearing;   shakes 

him up in the usual manner; and is charged by the old gentleman 

to  remain near  him。 For  he   seems   chary   of   putting   his   visitor   to 

the trouble of repeating his late attentions。 

    “Ha!” he observes; when he is in trim again。 “If you could have 

traced out the Captain; Mr George; it would have been the making 

of   you。   If;  when    you   first  came     here;   in  consequence       of   our 

advertisements in the newspapers—when I say ‘our;’ I’m alluding 

to   the   advertisements   of   my   friend   in   the   city;   and   one   or   two 

others     who   embark      their  capital   in  the   same    way;   and    are  so 

friendly towards me as sometimes to give   me a   lift  with  my little 

pittance—if; at that time; you could have helped us; Mr George; it 

would have been the making of you。” 

    “I   was   willing   enough   to   be   ‘made;’   as   you   call   it;”   says   Mr 

George;      smoking     not   quite   so   placidly  as  before;    for  since   the 

entrance   of   Judy   he   has   been   in   some   measure   disturbed   by   a 

fascination; not of the admiring kind; which obliges him to look at 

her as she stands by her grandfather’s chair; “but; on the whole; I 

am glad I wasn’t now。” 

    “Why;   Mr  George?  In   the   name   of—of  Brimstone;   why?”   says 

Grandfather Smallweed; with a plain appearance of exasperation。 

(Brimstone       apparently      suggested     by   his   eye   lighting    on   Mrs 



Charles Dickens                                                     ElecBook Classics 


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Smallweed in her slumber。) “For two reasons; comrade。” 

    “And what two reasons; Mr George? In the name of the—” 

    “Of   our   friend   in   the   city?”   suggests   Mr   George;   composedly 

drinking。 

    “Ay; if you like。 What two reasons?” 

    “In the first place;” returns Mr George; but still looking at Judy; 

as if; she being so old and so like her grandfather; it is indifferent 

which  of  the  two   he   addresses;   “you   gentlemen   took   me   in。   You 

advertised   that  Mr  Hawdon   (Captain   Hawdon;   if   you   hold   to   the 

saying; Once a captain always a captain) was to hear of something 

of his advantage。” 

    “Well?” returns the old man; shrilly and sharply。 

    “Well!”   says   Mr   George;   smoking   on。   “It   wouldn’t   have   been 

much   to   his   advantage   to   have   been   clapped   into   prison   by   the 

whole bill and judgment trade of London。” 

    “How do you know that? Some of his rich relations might have 

paid his debts; or compounded for ’em。 Besides; he had taken us 

in。   He   owed   us   immense   sums;   all   round。   I   would   sooner   have 

strangled   him   than   had no  return。   If  I   sit   here   thinking   of   him;” 

snarls the old man; holding up his impotent ten fingers; “I want to 

strangle him now。” And in a sudden access of fury; he throws the 

cushion       at   the   unoffending       Mrs     Smallweed;       but    it  passes 

harmlessly on one side of her chair。 

    “I   don’t  need   to  be   told;”   returns   the   trooper;   taking   his   pipe 

from     his  lips   for  a  moment;      and    carrying    his  eyes    back    from 

following   the   progress   of   the   cushion;   to   the   pipe…bowl   which   is 

burning low; “that he carried on heavily and went to ruin。 I have 

been at  his   right  hand many  a   day;   when   he   was   charging   upon 

ruin   full…gallop。   I   was   with  him;   when  he   was sick  and   well;   rich 



Charles Dickens                                                       ElecBook Classics 


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