oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第36章

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whereabouts。　

“Pull　off　the　smart　ones；”　said　Charles；　“and　I’ll　give　’em　to　
Fagin　to　take　care　of。　What　fun　it　is！”　

Poor　Oliver　unwillingly　complied。　Master　Bates；　rolling　up　the　

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new　clothes　under　his　arm；　departed　from　the　room；　leaving　Oliver　
in　the　dark；　and　locking　the　door　behind　him。　

The　noise　of　Charley’s　laughter；　and　the　voice　of　Miss　Betsy；　
who　opportunely　arrived　to　throw　water　over　her　friend；　and　
perform　other　feminine　offices　for　the　promotion　of　her　recovery；　
might　have　kept　many　people　awake　under　more　happy　
circumstances　than　those　in　which　Oliver　was　placed。　But　he　was　
sick　and　weary；　and　he　soon　fell　sound　asleep。　

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Chapter　17　

Oliver’s　destiny　continuing　unpropitious；　brings　a　
great　man　to　London　to　injure　his　reputation。　

It　is　the　custom　on　the　stage；　in　all　good　murderous　
melodramas；　to　present　the　tragic　and　the　comic　scenes　in　as　
regular　alternation；　as　the　layers　of　red　and　white　in　a　side　of　
streaky　bacon。　The　hero　sinks　upon　his　straw　bed；　weighed　down　
by　fetters　and　misfortunes；　in　the　next　scene；　his　faithful　but　
unconscious　squire　regales　the　audience　with　a　comic　song。　We　
behold；　with　throbbing　bosoms；　the　heroine　in　the　grasp　of　a　
proud　and　ruthless　baron；　her　virtue　and　her　life　alike　in　danger；　
drawing　forth　her　dagger　to　preserve　the　one　at　the　cost　of　the　
other；　and；　just　as　our　expectations　are　wrought　up　to　the　highest　
pitch；　a　whistle　is　heard；　and　we　are　straightway　transported　to　
the　great　hall　of　the　castle；　where　a　grey…headed　seneschal　sings　a　
funny　chorus　with　a　funnier　body　of　vassals；　who　are　free　of　all　
sorts　of　places；　from　church　vaults　to　palaces；　and　roam　about　in　
company；　carolling　perpetually。　

Such　changes　appear　absurd；　but　they　are　not　so　unnatural　as　
they　would　seem　at　first　sight。　The　transitions　in　real　life　from　
well…spread　boards　to　deathbeds；　and　from　mourning　weeds　to　
holiday　garments；　are　not　a　whit　less　startling；　only；　there；　we　are　
busy　actors；　instead　of　passive　lookers…on；　which　makes　a　vast　
difference。　The　actors　in　the　mimic　life　of　the　theatre；　are　blind　to　
violent　transitions　and　abrupt　impulses　of　passion　or　feeling；　
which；　presented　before　the　eyes　of　mere　spectators；　are　at　once　

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condemned　as　outrageous　and　preposterous。　

As　sudden　shiftings　of　the　scene；　and　rapid　changes　of　time　and　
place；　are　not　only　sanctioned　in　books　by　long　usage；　but　are　by　
many　considered　as　the　great　art　of　authorship—an　author’s　skill　
in　his　craft　being；　by　such　critics；　chiefly　estimated　with　relation　to　
the　dilemmas　in　which　he　leaves　his　characters　at　the　end　of　every　
chapter—this　brief　introduction　to　the　present　one　may　perhaps　
be　deemed　unnecessary。　If　so；　let　it　be　considered　a　delicate　
intimation　on　the　part　of　the　historian　that　he　is　going　back　
directly　to　the　town　in　which　Oliver　Twist　was　born；　the　reader　
taking　it　for　granted　that　there　are　good　and　substantial　reasons　
for　making　the　journey；　or　he　would　not　be　invited　to　proceed　
upon　such　an　expedition。　

Mr。　Bumble　emerged　at　early　morning　from　the　workhouse　
gate；　and　walked　with　portly　carriage　and　commanding　steps；　up　
the　High　Street。　He　was　in　the　full　bloom　and　pride　of　beadlehood；　
his　cocked　hat　and　coat　were　dazzling　in　the　morning　sun；　he　
clutched　his　cane　with　the　vigorous　tenacity　of　health　and　power。　
Mr。　Bumble　always　carried　his　head　high；　but　this　morning　it　was　
higher　than　usual。　There　was　an　abstraction　in　his　eye；　an　
elevation　in　his　air；　which　might　have　warned　an　observant　
stranger　that　thoughts　were　passing　in　the　beadle’s　mind；　too　
great　for　utterance。　

Mr。　Bumble　stopped　not　to　converse　with　the　small　shopkeepers　and　others　who　spoke　to　him；　deferentially；　as　he　passed　
along。　He　merely　returned　their　salutations　with　a　wave　of　his　
hand；　and　relaxed　not　in　his　dignified　pace；　until　he　reached　the　
farm　where　Mrs。　Mann　tended　the　infant　paupers　with　parochial　
care。　

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“Drat　that　beadle！”　said　Mrs。　Mann；　hearing　the　well…known　
shaking　at　the　garden　gate。　“If　it　isn’t　him　at　this　time　in　the　
morning！　Lauk；　Mr。　Bumble；　only　think　of　its　being　you！　Well；　dear　
me；　it　is　a　pleasure；　this　is！　Come　into　the　parlour；　sir；　please。”　

The　first　sentence　was　addressed　to　Susan；　and　the　
exclamations　of　delight　were　uttered　to　Mr。　Bumble；　as　the　good　
lady　unlocked　the　garden　gate；　and　showed　him；　with　great　
attention　and　respect；　into　the　house。　

“Mrs。　Mann；”　said　Mr。　Bumble；　not　sitting　upon；　or　dropping　
himself　into　a　seat；　as　any　common　jackanapes　would；　but　letting　
himself　gradually　and　slowly　down　into　a　chair；　“Mrs。　Mann；　
ma’am；　good…morning。”　

“Well；　and　good…morning　to　you；　sir；”　replied　Mrs。　Mann　with　
many　smiles；　“and　hoping　you　find　yourself　well；　sir！”　

“So—so；　Mrs。　Mann；”　replied　the　beadle。　“A　porochial　life　is　not　
a　bed　of　roses；　Mrs。　Mann。”　

“Ah；　that　it　isn’t　indeed；　Mr。　Bumble；”　rejoined　the　lady。　And　all　
the　infant　paupers　might　have　chorused　the　rejoinder　with　great　
propriety；　if　they　had　heard　it。　

“A　porochial　life；　ma’am；”　continued　Mr。　Bumble；　striking　the　
table　with　his　cane；　“is　a　life　of　worrit；　and　vexation；　and　
hardihood；　but　all　public　characters；　as　I　may　say；　must　suffer　
prosecution。”　

Mrs。　Mann；　not　very　well　knowing　what　the　beadle　meant；　
raised　her　hands　with　a　look　of　sympathy；　and　sighed。　

“You　may　well　sigh；　Mrs。　Mann！”　said　the　beadle。　

Finding　she　had　done　right；　Mrs。　Mann　sighed　again；　evidently　
to　the　satisfaction　of　the　public　character；　who；　repressing　a　
complacent　smile　by　looking　sternly　at　his　cocked　hat　said：　

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“Mrs。　Mann；　I　am　a…going　to　London。”　

“Lauk；　Mr。　Bumble！”　cried　Mrs。　Mann；　starting　back。　

“To　London；　ma’am；”　resumed　the　inflexible　beadle；　“by　coach。　
I　and　two　paupers；　Mrs。　Mann！　A　legal　action　is　a…coming　on；　
about　a　settlement；　and　the　Board　has　appointed　me—me；　Mrs。　
Mann—to　dispose　to　the　matter　before　the　quarter…sessions　at　
Clerkinwell。　And　I　very　much　question；”　added　Mr。　Bumble；　
drawing　himself　up；　“whether　the　Clerkenwell　Sessions　will　not　
find　themselves　in　the　wrong　box　before　they　have　done　with　me。”　

“Oh！　you　mustn’t　be　too　hard　upon　them；　sir；”　said　Mrs。　Mann　
coaxingly。　

“The　Clerkinwell　Sessions　have　brought　it　upon　themselves；　
ma’am；”　replied　Mr。　Bumble；　“and　if　the　Clerkinwell　Sessions　find　
that　they　come　off　rather　worse　than　they　expected；　the　
Clerkenwell　Sessions　have　only　themselves　to　thank。”　

There　was　so　much　determination　and　depth　of　purpose　about　
the　menacing　manner　in　which　Mr。　Bumble　delivered　himself　of　
these　words；　that　Mrs。　Mann　appeared　quite　awed　by　them。　At　
length　she　said：　

“You’re　going　by　coach；　sir？　I　thought　it　was　always　usual　to　
send　them　paupers　in　carts。”　

“That’s　when　they’re　ill；　Mrs。　Mann；”　said　the　beadle。　

·　“We　put　the　sick　paupers　into　open　carts　in　the　rainy　weather；　
to　prevent　their　taking　cold。”　

“Oh！”　said　Mrs。　Mann。　

“The　opposition　coach　contracts　for　these　two；　and　takes　them　
cheap；”　said　Mr。　Bumble。　“They　are　both　in　a　very　low　state；　and　
we　find　it　would　come　two　pound　cheaper　to　move　’em　than　to　
bury　’em—that　is；　if　we　can　throw　’em　upon　another　parish；　which　

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I　think　we　shall　be　able　to　do；　if　they　don’t　die　upon　the　road　to　
spite　us。　Ha！　ha！　ha！”　

When　Mr。　Bumble　had　laughed　a　little　while；　his　eyes　again　
encountered　the　cocked　hat；　and　he　became　grave。　

“We　are　forgetting　business；　ma’am；”　said　the　beadle；　“here　is　
your　porochial　stipend　for　the　month。”　

Mr。　Bumble　produced　some　silver　money　rolled　up　in　paper；　
from　his　pocket…book；　and　requested　a　receipt；　which　Mrs。　Mann　
wrote。　

“It’s　very　much　blotted；　sir；”　said　the　farmer　of　infants；　“b