lazy tour of two idle apprentices-第20章

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waiter　…　but　without　appearing　to　get　into　their　way；　or　to　mind

whether　they　did　or　no　…　and　who　had　filed　off　to　the　right　and

left　on　the　old　staircase；　as　the　guests　entered　their　sitting…

room。　　It　was　then　broad；　bright　day。　　But；　Mr。　Goodchild　had　said；

when　their　door　was　shut；　'Who　on　earth　are　those　old　men？'　　And

afterwards；　both　on　going　out　and　coming　in；　he　had　noticed　that

there　were　no　old　men　to　be　seen。



Neither；　had　the　old　men；　or　any　one　of　the　old　men；　reappeared

since。　　The　two　friends　had　passed　a　night　in　the　house；　but　had

seen　nothing　more　of　the　old　men。　　Mr。　Goodchild；　in　rambling　about

it；　had　looked　along　passages；　and　glanced　in　at　doorways；　but　had

encountered　no　old　men；　neither　did　it　appear　that　any　old　men

were；　by　any　member　of　the　establishment；　missed　or　expected。



Another　odd　circumstance　impressed　itself　on　their　attention。　　It

was；　that　the　door　of　their　sitting…room　was　never　left　untouched

for　a　quarter　of　an　hour。　　It　was　opened　with　hesitation；　opened

with　confidence；　opened　a　little　way；　opened　a　good　way；　…　always

clapped…to　again　without　a　word　of　explanation。　　They　were　reading；

they　were　writing；　they　were　eating；　they　were　drinking；　they　were

talking；　they　were　dozing；　the　door　was　always　opened　at　an

unexpected　moment；　and　they　looked　towards　it；　and　it　was　clapped…

to　again；　and　nobody　was　to　be　seen。　　When　this　had　happened　fifty

times　or　so；　Mr。　Goodchild　had　said　to　his　companion；　jestingly：

'I　begin　to　think；　Tom；　there　was　something　wrong　with　those　six

old　men。'



Night　had　come　again；　and　they　had　been　writing　for　two　or　three

hours：　　writing；　in　short；　a　portion　of　the　lazy　notes　from　which

these　lazy　sheets　are　taken。　　They　had　left　off　writing；　and

glasses　were　on　the　table　between　them。　　The　house　was　closed　and

quiet。　　Around　the　head　of　Thomas　Idle；　as　he　lay　upon　his　sofa；

hovered　light　wreaths　of　fragrant　smoke。　　The　temples　of　Francis

Goodchild；　as　he　leaned　back　in　his　chair；　with　his　two　hands

clasped　behind　his　head；　and　his　legs　crossed；　were　similarly

decorated。



They　had　been　discussing　several　idle　subjects　of　speculation；　not

omitting　the　strange　old　men；　and　were　still　so　occupied；　when　Mr。

Goodchild　abruptly　changed　his　attitude　to　wind　up　his　watch。　　They

were　just　becoming　drowsy　enough　to　be　stopped　in　their　talk　by　any

such　slight　check。　　Thomas　Idle；　who　was　speaking　at　the　moment；

paused　and　said；　'How　goes　it？'



'One；'　said　Goodchild。



As　if　he　had　ordered　One　old　man；　and　the　order　were　promptly

executed　（truly；　all　orders　were　so；　in　that　excellent　hotel）；　the

door　opened；　and　One　old　man　stood　there。



He　did　not　come　in；　but　stood　with　the　door　in　his　hand。



'One　of　the　six；　Tom；　at　last！'　said　Mr。　Goodchild；　in　a　surprised

whisper。　…　'Sir；　your　pleasure？'



'Sir；　YOUR　pleasure？'　said　the　One　old　man。



'I　didn't　ring。'



'The　bell　did；'　said　the　One　old　man。



He　said　BELL；　in　a　deep；　strong　way；　that　would　have　expressed　the

church　Bell。



'I　had　the　pleasure；　I　believe；　of　seeing　you；　yesterday？'　said

Goodchild。



'I　cannot　undertake　to　say　for　certain；'　was　the　grim　reply　of　the

One　old　man。



'I　think　you　saw　me？　　Did　you　not？'



'Saw　YOU？'　said　the　old　man。　　'O　yes；　I　saw　you。　　But；　I　see　many

who　never　see　me。'



A　chilled；　slow；　earthy；　fixed　old　man。　　A　cadaverous　old　man　of

measured　speech。　　An　old　man　who　seemed　as　unable　to　wink；　as　if

his　eyelids　had　been　nailed　to　his　forehead。　　An　old　man　whose　eyes

…　two　spots　of　fire　…　had　no　more　motion　than　if　they　had　been

connected　with　the　back　of　his　skull　by　screws　driven　through　it；

and　rivetted　and　bolted　outside；　among　his　grey　hair。



The　night　had　turned　so　cold；　to　Mr。　Goodchild's　sensations；　that

he　shivered。　　He　remarked　lightly；　and　half　apologetically；　'I

think　somebody　is　walking　over　my　grave。'



'No；'　said　the　weird　old　man；　'there　is　no　one　there。'



Mr。　Goodchild　looked　at　Idle；　but　Idle　lay　with　his　head　enwreathed

in　smoke。



'No　one　there？'　said　Goodchild。



'There　is　no　one　at　your　grave；　I　assure　you；'　said　the　old　man。



He　had　come　in　and　shut　the　door；　and　he　now　sat　down。　　He　did　not

bend　himself　to　sit；　as　other　people　do；　but　seemed　to　sink　bolt

upright；　as　if　in　water；　until　the　chair　stopped　him。



'My　friend；　Mr。　Idle；'　said　Goodchild；　extremely　anxious　to

introduce　a　third　person　into　the　conversation。



'I　am；'　said　the　old　man；　without　looking　at　him；　'at　Mr。　Idle's

service。'



'If　you　are　an　old　inhabitant　of　this　place；'　Francis　Goodchild

resumed。



'Yes。'



'Perhaps　you　can　decide　a　point　my　friend　and　I　were　in　doubt　upon；

this　morning。　　They　hang　condemned　criminals　at　the　Castle；　I

believe？'



'I　believe　so；'　said　the　old　man。



'Are　their　faces　turned　towards　that　noble　prospect？'



'Your　face　is　turned；'　replied　the　old　man；　'to　the　Castle　wall。

When　you　are　tied　up；　you　see　its　stones　expanding　and　contracting

violently；　and　a　similar　expansion　and　contraction　seem　to　take

place　in　your　own　head　and　breast。　　Then；　there　is　a　rush　of　fire

and　an　earthquake；　and　the　Castle　springs　into　the　air；　and　you

tumble　down　a　precipice。'



His　cravat　appeared　to　trouble　him。　　He　put　his　hand　to　his　throat；

and　moved　his　neck　from　side　to　side。　　He　was　an　old　man　of　a

swollen　character　of　face；　and　his　nose　was　immoveably　hitched　up

on　one　side；　as　if　by　a　little　hook　inserted　in　that　nostril。　　Mr。

Goodchild　felt　exceedingly　uncomfortable；　and　began　to　think　the

night　was　hot；　and　not　cold。



'A　strong　description；　sir；'　he　observed。



'A　strong　sensation；'　the　old　man　rejoined。



Again；　Mr。　Goodchild　looked　to　Mr。　Thomas　Idle；　but　Thomas　lay　on

his　back　with　his　face　attentively　turned　towards　the　One　old　man；

and　made　no　sign。　　At　this　time　Mr。　Goodchild　believed　that　he　saw

threads　of　fire　stretch　from　the　old　man's　eyes　to　his　own；　and

there　attach　themselves。　　（Mr。　　Goodchild　writes　the　present

account　of　his　experience；　and；　with　the　utmost　solemnity；　protests

that　he　had　the　strongest　sensation　upon　him　of　being　forced　to

look　at　the　old　man　along　those　two　fiery　films；　from　that　moment。）



'I　must　tell　it　to　you；'　said　the　old　man；　with　a　ghastly　and　a

stony　stare。



'What？'　asked　Francis　Goodchild。



'You　know　where　it　took　place。　　Yonder！'



Whether　he　pointed　to　the　room　above；　or　to　the　room　below；　or　to

any　room　in　that　old　house；　or　to　a　room　in　some　other　old　house　in

that　old　town；　Mr。　Goodchild　was　not；　nor　is；　nor　ever　can　be；

sure。　　He　was　confused　by　the　circumstance　that　the　right

forefinger　of　the　One　old　man　seemed　to　dip　itself　in　one　of　the

threads　of　fire；　light　itself；　and　make　a　fiery　start　in　the　air；

as　it　pointed　somewhere。　　Having　pointed　somewhere；　it　went　out。



'You　know　she　was　a　Bride；'　said　the　old　man。



'I　know　they　still　send　up　Bride…cake；'　Mr。　Goodchild　faltered。

'This　is　a　very　oppressive　air。'



'She　was　a　Bride；'　said　the　old　man。　　'She　was　a　fair；　flaxen…

haired；　large…eyed　girl；　who　had　no　character；　no　purpose。　　A　weak；

credulous；　incapable；　helpless　nothing。　　Not　like　her　mother。　　No；

no。　　It　was　her　father　whose　character　she　reflected。



'Her　mother　had　taken　care　to　secure　everything　to　herself；　for　her

own　life；　when　the　father　of　this　girl　（a　child　at　that　time）　died

…　of　sheer　helplessness；　no　other　disorder　…　and　then　He　renewed

the　acquaintance　that　had　once　subsisted　between　the　mother　and

Him。　　He　had　been　put　aside　for　the　flaxen…haired；　large…eyed　man

（or　nonentity）　with　Money。　　He　could　overlook　that　for　Money。　　He

wanted　compensation　in　Money。



'So；　he　returned　to　the　side　of　that　woman　the　mother；　made　love　to

her　again；　danced　attendance　on　her；　and　submitted　himself　to　her

whims。　　She　wreaked　upon　him　every　whim　she　had；　or　could　invent。

He　bore　it。　　And　the　more　he　bore；　the　more　he　wanted　co