oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第18章
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led to a more friendly and confidential dialogue； from which Oliver
discovered that his friend’s name was Jack Dawkins； and that he
was a peculiar pet and protégé of the elderly gentleman before
mentioned。
Mr。 Dawkins’ appearance did not say a vast deal in favour of the
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Oliver Twist
comforts which his patron’s interest obtained for those whom he
took under his protection； but； as he had a rather flighty and
dissolute mode of conversing； and furthermore avowed that
among his intimate friends he was better known by the sobriquet
of “The Artful Dodger；” Oliver concluded that； being of a
dissipated and careless turn； the moral precept of his benefactor
had hitherto been thrown away upon him。 Under this impression；
he secretly resolved to cultivate the good opinion of the old
gentleman as quickly as possible； and； if he found the Dodger
incorrigible； as he more than half…suspected he should； to decline
the honour of his further acquaintance。
As John Dawkins objected to their entering London before
nightfall； it was nearly seven o’clock when they reached the
turnpike at Islington。 They crossed from the Angel into St。 John’s
Road； struck down the small street which terminates at Sadler’s
Wells Theatre； through Exmouth Street and Coppice Row； down
the little court by the side of the workhouse； across the classic
ground which once bore the name of Hockley…in…the…Hole； thence
into Little Saffron Hill； and so into Saffron Hill the Great； along
which the Dodger scudded at a rapid pace； directing Oliver to
follow close at his heels。
Although Oliver had enough to occupy his attention in keeping
sight of his leader； he could not help bestowing a few hasty glances
on either side of the way； as he passed along。 A dirtier or more
wretched place he had never seen。 The street was very narrow
and muddy； and the air was impregnated with filthy odours。 There
were a good many small shops； but the only stock in trade
appeared to be heaps of children； who； even at that time of night；
were crawling in and out at the doors； or screaming from the
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Oliver Twist
inside。 The sole places that seemed to prosper amid the general
blight of the place； were the public…houses； and in them； the lowest
orders of Irish were wrangling with might and main。 Covered
ways and yards； where here and there diverged from the main
street； disclosed little knots of houses； where drunken men and
women were positively wallowing in filth； and from several of the
doorways； great ill…looking fellows were cautiously emerging；
bound； to all appearance； on no very well…disposed or harmless
errands。
Oliver was just considering whether he hadn’t better run away；
when they reached the bottom of the hill。 His conductor； catching
him by the arm； pushed open the door of a house near Field Lane；
and； drawing him into the passage； closed it behind them。
“Now； then！” cried a voice from below； in reply to a whistle
from the Dodger。
“Plummy and slam！” was the reply。
This seemed to be some watchword or signal that all was right；
for the light of a feeble candle gleamed on the wall at the remote
end of the passage； and a man’s face peeped out； from where a
balustrade of the old kitchen staircase had been broken away。
“There’s two on you；” said the man； thrusting the candle
farther out； and shading his eyes with his hand。 “Who’s the t’other
one？”
“A new pal；” replied Jack Dawkins； pulling Oliver forward。
“Where did he come from？”
“Greenland。 Is Fagin upstairs？”
“Yes； he’s a…sortin’ the wipes。 Up with you！” The candle was
drawn back； and the face disappeared。
Oliver； groping his way with one hand； and having the other
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Oliver Twist
firmly grasped by his companion； ascended with much difficulty
the dark and broken stairs； which his conductor mounted with an
ease and expedition that showed that he was well acquainted with
them。 He threw open the door of a back room； and drew Oliver in
after him。
The walls and ceiling of the room were perfectly black； with age
and dirt。 There was a deal table before the fire： upon which were a
candle； stuck in a ginger…beer bottle； two or three pewter pots； a
loaf and butter； and a plate。 In a frying…pan； which was on the fire；
and which was secured to the mantel…shelf by a string； some
sausages were cooking； and standing over them； with a toasting…
fork in his hand； was a very old； shrivelled Jew； whose villainous…
looking and repulsive face was obscured by a quantity of matted
red hair。 He was dressed in a greasy flannel gown； with his throat
bare； and seemed to be dividing his attention between the frying…
pan and the clothes…horse； over which a great number of silk
handkerchiefs were hanging。 Several rough beds made of old
sacks； were huddled side by side on the floor。 Seated round the
table were four or five boys； none older than the Dodger； smoking
long clay pipes； and drinking spirits with the air of middle…aged
men。 These all crowded about their associate as he whispered a
few words to the Jew； and then turned round and grinned at
Oliver。 So did the Jew himself； toasting…fork in hand。
“This is him； Fagin；” said Jack Dawkins； “my friend； Oliver
Twist。”
The Jew grinned； and； making a low obeisance to Oliver； took
him by the hand； and hoped he should have the honour of his
intimate acquaintance。 Upon this； the young gentlemen with the
pipes came round him； and shook both his hands very hard—
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Oliver Twist
especially the one in which he held his little bundle。 One young
gentleman was very anxious to hang up his cap for him； and
another was so obliging as to put his hands in his pockets； in order
that； as he was very tired； he might not have the trouble of
emptying them； himself； when he went to bed。 These civilities
would probably have been extended much further； but for a liberal
exercise of the Jew’s toasting…fork on the heads and shoulders of
the affectionate youths who offered them。
“We are very glad to see you； Oliver—very；” said the Jew。
“Dodger； take off the sausages； and draw a tub near the fire for
Oliver。 Ah； you’re a…staring at the pocket…handkerchiefs！ eh； my
dear！ There are a good many of ’em； ain’t there？ We’ve just looked
’em out； ready for the wash； that’s all； Oliver； that’s all。 Ha！ ha！
ha！”
The latter part of this speech was hailed by a boisterous shout
from all the hopeful pupils of the merry old gentleman。 In the
midst of which； they went to supper。
Oliver ate his share； and the Jew then mixed him a glass of hot
gin…and…water； telling him he must drink it off directly； because
another gentleman wanted the tumbler。 Oliver did as he was
desired。 Immediately afterwards he felt himself gently lifted on to
one of the sacks； and then he sank into a deep sleep。
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Oliver Twist
Chapter 9
Containing Further Particulars Concerning The
Pleasant Old Gentleman； And His Hopeful Pupils。
It was late next morning when Oliver awoke； from a sound；
long sleep。 There was no other person in the room but the old
Jew； who was boiling some coffee in a saucepan for breakfast；
and whistling softly to himself as he stirred it round and round；
with an iron spoon。 He would stop every now and then to listen
when there was the least noise below； and when he had satisfied
himself； he would go on； whistling and stirring again； as before。
Although Oliver had roused himself from sleep； he was not
thoroughly awake。 There is a drowsy state； between sleeping and
waking； when you dream more in five minutes with your eyes half…
open； and yourself half…conscious of everything that is passing
around you； than you would in five nights with your eyes fast
closed； and your senses wrapped in perfect unconsciousness。 At
such times； a mortal knows just enough of what his mind is doing；
to form some glimmering conception of its migh
