barnaby rudge(巴纳比·卢杰)-第13章
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Good night！’
Returning his cheery farewell with cordial goodwill； Joe Willet
lingered until the sound of wheels ceased to vibrate in his ears；
and then； shaking his head mournfully； re…entered the house。
Gabriel Varden went his way towards London； thinking of a
great many things； and most of all of flaming terms in which to
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relate his adventure； and so account satisfactorily to Mrs Varden
for visiting the Maypole； despite certain solemn covenants
between himself and that lady。 Thinking begets； not only thought；
but drowsiness occasionally； and the more the locksmith thought；
the more sleepy he became。
A man may be very sober—or at least firmly set upon his legs
on that neutral ground which lies between the confines of perfect
sobriety and slight tipsiness—and yet feel a strong tendency to
mingle up present circumstances with others which have no
manner of connection with them； to confound all consideration of
persons； things； times； and places； and to jumble his disjointed
thoughts together in a kind of mental kaleidoscope； producing
combinations as unexpected as they are transitory。 This was
Gabriel Varden’s state； as； nodding in his dog sleep； and leaving
his horse to pursue a road with which he was well acquainted； he
got over the ground unconsciously； and drew nearer and nearer
home。 He had roused himself once； when the horse stopped until
the turnpike gate was opened； and had cried a lusty ‘good night！’
to the toll…keeper； but then he awoke out of a dream about picking
a lock in the stomach of the Great Mogul； and even when he did
wake； mixed up the turnpike man with his mother…in…law who had
been dead twenty years。 It is not surprising； therefore； that he
soon relapsed； and jogged heavily along； quite insensible to his
progress。
And； now； he approached the great city； which lay outstretched
before him like a dark shadow on the ground； reddening the
sluggish air with a deep dull light； that told of labyrinths of public
ways and shops； and swarms of busy people。 Approaching nearer
and nearer yet； this halo began to fade； and the causes which
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produced it slowly to develop themselves。 Long lines of poorly
lighted streets might be faintly traced； with here and there a
lighter spot； where lamps were clustered round a square or
market； or round some great building； after a time these grew
more distinct； and the lamps themselves were visible； slight yellow
specks； that seemed to be rapidly snuffed out； one by one； as
intervening obstacles hid them from the sight。 Then； sounds
arose—the striking of church clocks； the distant bark of dogs； the
hum of traffic in the streets； then outlines might be traced—tall
steeples looming in the air； and piles of unequal roofs oppressed
by chimneys； then； the noise swelled into a louder sound； and
forms grew more distinct and numerous still； and London—visible
in the darkness by its own faint light； and not by that of Heaven—
was at hand。
The locksmith； however； all unconscious of its near vicinity； still
jogged on； half sleeping and half waking； when a loud cry at no
great distance ahead； roused him with a start。
For a moment or two he looked about him like a man who had
been transported to some strange country in his sleep； but soon
recognising familiar objects； rubbed his eyes lazily and might have
relapsed again； but that the cry was repeated—not once or twice
or thrice； but many times； and each time； if possible； with
increased vehemence。 Thoroughly aroused； Gabriel； who was a
bold man and not easily daunted； made straight to the spot； urging
on his stout little horse as if for life or death。
The matter indeed looked sufficiently serious； for； coming to the
place whence the cries had proceeded； he descried the figure of a
man extended in an apparently lifeless state upon the pathway；
and； hovering round him； another person with a torch in his hand；
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which he waved in the air with a wild impatience； redoubling
meanwhile those cries for help which had brought the locksmith
to the spot。
‘What’s here to do？’ said the old man； alighting。 ‘How’s this—
what—Barnaby？’
The bearer of the torch shook his long loose hair back from his
eyes； and thrusting his face eagerly into that of the locksmith；
fixed upon him a look which told his history at once。
‘You know me； Barnaby？’ said Varden。
He nodded—not once or twice； but a score of times； and that
with a fantastic exaggeration which would have kept his head in
motion for an hour； but that the locksmith held up his finger； and
fixing his eye sternly upon him caused him to desist； then pointed
to the body with an inquiring look。
‘There’s blood upon him；’ said Barnaby with a shudder。 ‘It
makes me sick！’
‘How came it there？’ demanded Varden。
‘Steel； steel； steel！’ he replied fiercely； imitating with his hand
the thrust of a sword。
‘Is he robbed？’ said the locksmith。
Barnaby caught him by the arm； and nodded ‘Yes；’ then
pointed towards the city。
‘Oh！’ said the old man； bending over the body and looking
round as he spoke into Barnaby’s pale face； strangely lighted up
by something that was not intellect。 ‘The robber made off that way；
did he？ Well； well； never mind that just now。 Hold your torch this
way—a little farther off—so。 Now stand quiet； while I try to see
what harm is done。’
With these words； he applied himself to a closer examination of
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the prostrate form； while Barnaby； holding the torch as he had
been directed； looked on in silence； fascinated by interest or
curiosity； but repelled nevertheless by some strong and secret
horror which convulsed him in every nerve。
As he stood； at that moment； half shrinking back and half
bending forward； both his face and figure were full in the strong
glare of the link； and as distinctly revealed as though it had been
broad day。 He was about three…and…twenty years old； and though
rather spare； of a fair height and strong make。 His hair； of which
he had a great profusion； was red； and hanging in disorder about
his face
