hard times(艰难时世)-第45章
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Besides； though Loo is a girl； she’s not a common sort of girl。 She
can shut herself up within herself； and think—as I have often
known her sit and watch the fire—for an hour at a stretch。”
“Ay； ay？ Has resources of her own；” said Harthouse； smoking
quietly。
“Not so much of that as you may suppose；” returned Tom； “for
our governor had her crammed with all sorts of dry bones and
sawdust。 It’s his system。”
“Formed his daughter on his own model？” suggested
Harthouse。
“His daughter？ Ah！ and everybody else。 Why； he formed Me
that way；” said Tom。
“Impossible！”
“He did though；” said Tom； shaking his head。 “I mean to say；
Mr Harthouse； that when I first left home and went to old
Bounderby’s； I was as flat as a warming…pan； and knew no more
about life； than any oyster does。”
“Come； Tom！ I can hardly believe that。 A joke’s a joke。”
“Upon my soul！” said the whelp。 “I am serious； I am indeed！”
He smoked with great gravity and dignity for a little while； and
then added； in a highly complacent tone； “Oh！ I have picked up a
little since。 I don’t deny that。 But I have done it myself； no thanks
to the governor。”
“And your intelligent sister？”
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Hard Times 176
“My intelligent sister is about where she was。 She used to
complain to me that she had nothing to fall back upon； that girls
usually fall back upon； and I don’t see how she is to have got over
that since。 But she don’t mind；” he sagaciously added； puffing at
his cigar again。 “Girls can always get on； somehow。”
“Calling at the Bank yesterday evening； for Mr Bounderby’s
address； I found an ancient lady there； who seems to entertain
great admiration for your sister；” observed Mr James Harthouse；
throwing away the last small remnant of the cigar he had now
smoked out。
“Mother Sparsit？” said Tom。 “What！ you have seen her already；
have you？”
His friend nodded。 Tom took his cigar out of his mouth； to shut
up his eye （which had grown rather unmanageable） with the
greater expression； and to tap his nose several times with his
finger。
“Mother Sparsit’s feeling for Loo is more than admiration； I
should think；” said Tom。 “Say affection and devotion。 Mother
Sparsit never set her cap at Bounderby when he was a bachelor。
Oh no！”
These were the last words spoken by the whelp； before a giddy
drowsiness came upon him； followed by complete oblivion。 He was
roused from the latter state by an uneasy dream of being stirred
up with a boot； and also of a voice saying： “Come； it’s late。 Be off！”
“Well！” he said； scrambling from the sofa。 “I must take my leave
of you though。 I say。 Yours is very good tobacco。 But it’s too mild。”
“Yes； it’s too mild；” returned his entertainer。
“It’s—it’s ridiculously mild；” said Tom。 “Where’s the door？
Good night！”
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
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Hard Times 177
He had another odd dream of being taken by a waiter through a
mist； which； after giving him some trouble and difficulty； resolved
itself into the main street； in which he stood alone。 He then walked
home pretty easily； though not yet free from an impression of the
presence and influence of his new friend—as if he were lounging
somewhere in the air； in the same negligent attitude； regarding
him with the same look。
The whelp went home； and went to bed。 If he had had any
sense of what he had done that night； and had been less of a whelp
and more of a brother； he might have turned short on the road；
might have gone down to the ill…smelling river that was dyed
black； might have gone to bed in it for good and all； and have
curtained his head for ever with its filthy waters。
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Hard Times 178
Chapter 4
Men And Brothers
h； my friends； the down…trodden operatives of
Coketown！ Oh my friends and fellow…countrymen；
“O
the slaves of an iron…handed and a grinding
despotism！ Oh my friends and fellow…sufferers； and fellow…
workmen； and fellow…men！ I tell you that the hour is come； when
we must rally round one another as One united power； and
crumble into dust the oppressors that too long have battened upon
the plunder of our families； upon the sweat of our brows； upon the
labour of our hands； upon the strength of our sinews； upon the
God…created glorious rights of Humanity； and upon the holy and
eternal privileges of Brotherhood！”
“Good！” “Hear； hear； hear！” “Hurrah！” and other cries arose in
many voices from various parts of the densely crowded and
suffocatingly close Hall； in which the orator； perched on a stage；
delivered himself of this and what other froth and fume he had in
him。 He had declaimed himself into a violent heat； and was as
hoarse as he was hot。 By dint of roaring at the top of his voice
under a flaring gaslight； clenching his fists； knitting his brows；
setting his teeth； and pounding with his arms； he had taken so
much out of himself by this time； that he was brought to a stop and
called for a glass of water。
As he stood there； trying to quench his fiery face with his drink
of water； the comparison between the orator and the crowd of
attentive faces turned towards him； was extremely to his
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Hard Times 179
disadvantage。 Judging him by Nature’s evidence； he was above the
mass in very little but the stage on which he stood。 In many great
respects； he was essentially below them。 He was not so honest； he
was not so manly； he was not so good…humoured； he substituted
cunning for their simplicity； and passion for their safe solid sense。
An ill…made high…shouldered man； with lowering brows； and his
features crushed into an habitually sour expression； he contrasted
most unfavourably； even in his mongrel dress； with the great body
of his hearers in their plain working clothes。 Strange as it always
is to consider any assembly in the act of submissively resigning
itself to the dreariness of some complacent person； lord or
commoner； whom three…fourths of it could； by no human means；
raise out of the slough of inanity to their own intellectual level； it
was particularly strange； and it was even particularly affecting； to
see this crowd of e
