oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第39章

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It　was　a　very　dirty　place。　The　rooms　upstairs　had　great　high　
wooden　chimney…pieces　and　large　doors；　with　panelled　walls；　and　
cornices　to　the　ceilings；　which；　although　they　were　black　with　
neglect　and　dust；　were　ornamented　in　various　ways；　from　all　of　
these　tokens　Oliver　concluded　that　a　long　time　ago；　before　the　old　
Jew　was　born；　it　had　belonged　to　better　people；　and　had　perhaps　
been　quite　gay　and　handsome；　dismal　and　dreary　as　it　looked　now。　

Spiders　had　built　their　webs　in　the　angles　of　the　walls　and　
ceilings；　and　sometimes；　when　Oliver　walked　softly　into　a　room；　
the　mice　would　scamper　across　the　floor；　and　run　back；　terrified；　
to　their　holes。　With　these　exceptions；　there　was　neither　sight　nor　
sound　of　any　living　thing；　and　often；　when　it　grew　dark；　and　he　
was　tired　of　wandering　from　room　to　room；　he　would　crouch　in　the　
corner　of　the　passage　by　the　street　door；　to　be　as　near　living　people　
as　he　could；　and　would　remain　there；　listening　and　counting　the　
hours；　until　the　Jew　or　the　boys　returned　In　all　the　rooms；　the　
mouldering　shutters　were　fast　closed；　the　bars　which　held　them　
were　screwed　tight　into　the　wood；　the　only　light　which　was　
admitted；　stealing　its　way　through　round　holes　at　the　top；　which　
made　the　rooms　more　gloomy；　and　filled　them　with　strange　
shadows。　There　was　a　back…garret　window　with　rusty　bars　outside　
which　had　no　shutter；　and　out　of　this；　Oliver　often　gazed　with　a　
melancholy　face　for　hours　together；　but　nothing　was　to　be　
described　from　it　but　a　confused　and　crowded　mass　of　house…tops；　
blackened　chimneys；　and　gable…ends。　Sometimes；　indeed；　a　grizzly　
head　might　be　seen；　peering　over　a　parapet…wall　of　a　distant　
house：　but　it　was　quickly　withdrawn　again；　and　as　the　window　of　
Oliver’s　observation　was　nailed　down；　and　dimmed　with　the　rain　

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and　smoke　of　years；　it　was　as　much　as　he　could　do　to　make　out　the　
forms　of　the　different　objects　beyond；　without　making　any　attempt　
to　be　seen　or　heard—which　he　had　as　much　chance　of　being；　as　if　
he　had　lived　inside　the　ball　of　St。　Paul’s　Cathedral。　

One　afternoon；　the　Dodger　and　Master　Bates　being　engaged　out　
that　evening；　the　first…named　young　gentleman　took　it　into　his　
head　to　evince　some　anxiety　regarding　the　decoration　of　his　
person　（which　to　do　him　justice；　was　by　no　means　an　habitual　
weakness　with　him）；　and；　with　this　end　and　aim；　he　
condescendingly　commanded　Oliver　to　assist　him　in　his　toilet；　
straightway。　

Oliver　was　but　too　glad　to　make　himself　useful；　too　happy　to　
have　some　faces；　however　bad；　to　look　upon；　and　too　desirous　to　
conciliate　those　about　him；　when　he　could　honestly　do　so；　to　throw　
any　objection　in　the　way　of　this　proposal。　So　he　at　once　expressed　
his　readiness；　and；　kneeling　on　the　floor；　while　the　Dodger　sat　
upon　the　table；　so　that　he　could　take　his　foot　in　his　lap；　he　applied　
himself　to　a　process　which　Mr。　Dawkins　designated　as　“japanning　
his　trotter…cases。”　Which　phrase；　rendered　into　plain　English；　
signifieth；　cleaning　his　boots。　

Whether　it　was　the　sense　of　freedom　and　independence　which　a　
rational　animal　may　be　supposed　to　feel　when　he　sits　on　a　table　in　
an　easy　attitude　smoking　a　pipe；　swinging　one　leg　carelessly　to　and　
fro；　and　having　his　boots　cleaned　all　the　time；　without　even　the　
past　trouble　of　having　taken　them　off；　or　the　prospective　misery　of　
putting　them　on；　to　disturb　his　reflections；　or　whether　it　was　the　
goodness　of　the　tobacco　that　soothed　the　feelings　of　the　Dodger；　or　
the　mildness　of　the　beer　that　mollified　his　thoughts；　he　was　
evidently　tinctured；　for　the　nonce；　with　a　spice　of　romance　and　

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enthusiasm；　foreign　to　his　general　nature。　He　looked　down　on　
Oliver；　with　a　thoughtful　countenance；　for　a　brief　space；　and　then；　
raising　his　head；　and　heaving　a　gentle　sigh；　said；　half　in　
abstractions；　and　half　to　Mr。　Bates：　

“What　a　pity　it　is　he　isn’t　a　prig！”　

“Ah！”　said　Master　Charles　Bates；　“he　don’t　know　what’s　good　
for　him。”　

The　Dodger　sighed　again；　and　resumed　his　pipe：　as　did　Charley　
Bates。　They　both　smoked；　for　some　seconds；　in　silence。　

“I　suppose　you　don’t　even　know　what　a　prig　is？”　said　the　
Dodger　mournfully。　

“I　think　I　know　that；”　replied　Oliver；　looking　up。　“It’s　a　th—　
You’re　one；　are　you　not？”　inquired　Oliver；　checking　himself。　

“I　am；”　replied　the　Dodger。　“I’d　scorn　to　be　anything　else。”　Mr。　
Dawkins　gave　his　hat　a　ferocious　cock；　after　delivering　this　
sentiment；　and　looked　at　Master　Bates；　as　if　to　denote　that　he　
would　feel　obliged　by　his　saying　anything　to　the　contrary。　

“I　am；”　repeated　the　Dodger。　“So’s　Charley。　So’s　Fagin。　So’s　
Sikes。　So’s　Nancy。　So’s　Bet。　So　we　all　are；　down　to　the　dog；　and　
he’s　the　downiest　one　of　the　lot！”　

“And　the　least　given　to　preaching；”　added　Charley　Bates。　

“He　wouldn’t　so　much　as　bark　in　a　witness…box；　for　fear　of　
committing　himself；　no；　nor　if　you　tied　him　up　in　one；　and　left　him　
there　without　wittles　for　a　fortnight；”　said　the　Dodger。　

“Not　a　bit　of　it；”　observed　Charley。　

“He’s　a　rum　dog。　Don’t　he　look　fierce　at　any　strange　cove　that　
laughs　or　sings　when　he’s　in　company！”　pursued　the　Dodger。　
“Won’t　he　growl　at　all；　when　he　hears　a　fiddle　playing！　And　don’t　
he　hate　other　dogs　as　ain’t　of　his　breed！　Oh；　no！”　

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“He’s　an　out…and…out　Christian；”　said　Charley。　

This　was　merely　intended　as　a　tribute　to　the　animal’s　abilities；　
but　it　was　an　appropriate　remark　in　another　sense；　if　Master　Bates　
had　only　known　it；　for　there　are　a　good　many　ladies　and　
gentlemen；　claiming　to　be　out…and…out　Christians；　between　whom；　
and　Mr。　Sikes’s　dog；　there　exist　strong　and　singular　points　of　
resemblance。　

“Well；　well；”　said　the　Dodger；　recurring　to　the　point　from　which　
they　had　strayed；　with　that　mindfulness　of　his　profession　which　
influenced　all　his　proceedings。　“This　hasn’t　got　anything　to　do　
with　young　Green　here。”　

“No　more　it　has；”　said　Charley。　“Why　don’t　you　put　yourself　
under　Fagin；　Oliver—”　

“And　make　your　fortun’　out　of　hand？”　added　the　Dodger；　with　a　
grin。　

“And　so　be　able　to　retire　on　your　property；　and　do　the　genteel；　
as　I　mean　to；　in　the　very　next　leap…year　but　four　that　ever　comes；　
and　the　forty…second　Tuesday　in　Trinity…week；”　said　Charley　
Bates。　

“I　don’t　like　it；”　rejoined　Oliver　timidly；　“I　wish　they　would　let　
me　go。　I—I—would　rather　go。”　

“And　Fagin　would　rather　not！”　rejoined　Charley。　

Oliver　knew　this　too　well：　but　thinking　it　might　be　dangerous　to　
express　his　feelings　more　openly；　he　only　sighed；　and　went　on　with　
his　boot…cleaning。　

“Go！”　exclaimed　the　Dodger。　“Why；　where’s　your　spirit？　Don’t　
you　take　any　pride　out　of　yourself？　Would　you　go　and　be　
dependent　on　your　friends？”　

“Oh；　blow　that！”　said　Master　Bates；　drawing　two　or　three　silk　

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handkerchiefs　from　his　pocket；　and　tossing　them　into　a　cupboard；　
“that’s　too　mean；　that　is。”　

“I　couldn’t　do　it；”　said　the　Dodger；　with　an　air　of　haughty　
disgust。　

“You　can　leave　your　friends；　though；”　said　Oliver；　with　a　half…
smile；　“and　let　them　be　punished　for　what　you　did。”　

“That；”　rejoined　the　Dodger；　with　a　wave　of　his　pipe—“that　was　
all　out　of　consideration　for　Fagin；　’cause　the　traps　know　that　we　
work　together；　and　he　might　have　got　into　trouble　if　we　hadn’t　
made　our　lucky；　that　was　the　move；　wasn’t　it；　Charley？”　

Master　Bates　nodded　assent；　and　would　have　spoken；　but　the　
recollection　of　Oliver’s　flight　came　so　suddenly　upon　him；　that　the　
smoke　he　was　inhaling　got　entangled　with　a　laugh；　and　went　up　
into　his　head；　and　down　into　his　throat；　and　brought　on　a　fit　of　
coughing　and　stamping；　about　five　minutes　long。　

“Look　here！”　said　the　Dodger；　drawing　forth　a　handful　of　
shillings　and　halfpence；　“here’s　a　jolly　life！　What’s　the　odds　where　
it　comes　from？　Here；　catch　hold；　there’s　plenty　more　where　they　
were　took　fro