bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第68节
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went through the list。
“Hope； Joy； Youth； Peace； Rest； Life； Dust； Ashes； Waste； Want；
Ruin； Despair； Madness； Death； Cunning； Folly； Words； Wigs；
Rags； Sheepskin； Plunder； Precedent； Jargon； Gammon； and
Spinach。 That’s the whole collection；” said the old man； “all
cooped up together； by my noble and learned brother。”
“This is a bitter wind！” muttered my Guardian。
“When my noble and learned brother gives his Judgement；
they’re to be let go free；” said Krook； winking at us again。 “And
then；” he added； whispering and grinning； “if that ever was to
happen—which it won’t—the birds that have never been caged
would kill ’em。”
“If ever the wind was in the east；” said my Guardian；
pretending to look out of the window for a weathercock； “I think
it’s there today！”
We found it very difficult to get away from the house。 It was not
Miss Flite who detained us； she was as reasonable a little creature
in consulting the convenience of others； as there possibly could be。
It was Mr Krook。 He seemed unable to detach himself from Mr
Jarndyce。 If he had been linked to him； he could hardly have
attended him more closely。 He proposed to show us his Court of
Chancery； and all the strange medley it contained； during the
whole of our inspection （prolonged by himself） he kept close to Mr
Jarndyce； and sometimes detained him； under one pretence or
other； until we had passed on； as if he were tormented by an
inclination to enter upon some secret subject； which he could not
make up his mind to approach。 I cannot imagine a countenance
and manner more singularly expressive of caution and indecision；
and a perpetual impulse to do something he could not resolve to
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venture on； than Mr Krook was； that day。 His watchfulness of my
Guardian was incessant。 He rarely removed his eyes from his face。
If he went on beside him； he observed him with the slyness of an
old white fox。 If he went before he looked back。 When we stood
still； he got opposite to him； and drawing his hand across and
across his open mouth with a curious expression of a sense of
power； and turning up his eyes； and lowering his grey eyebrows
until they appeared to be shut； seemed to scan every lineament of
his face。
At last； having been （always attended by the cat） all over the
house； and having seen the whole stock of miscellaneous lumber；
which was certainly curious； we came into the back part of the
shop。 Here； on the head of an empty barrel stood on end； were an
ink…bottle； some old stumps of pens； and some dirty playbills； and；
against the wall； were pasted several large printed alphabets in
several plain hands。
“What are you doing here？” asked my Guardian。
“Trying to learn myself to read and write；” said Krook。
“And how do you get on？”
“Slow。 Bad；” returned the old man； impatiently。 “It’s hard at
my time of life。”
“It would be easier to be taught by some one；” said my
Guardian。
“Ay； but they might teach me wrong！” returned the old man；
with a wonderfully suspicious flash of his eye。 “I don’t know what I
may have lost； by not being learnd afore。 I wouldn’t like to lose
anything by being learnd wrong now。”
“Wrong？” said my Guardian； with his good…humoured smile。
“Who do you suppose would teach you wrong？”
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“I don’t know； Mr Jarndyce of Bleak House！” replied the old
man； turning up his spectacles on his forehead； and rubbing his
hands。 “I don’t suppose as anybody would—but I’d rather trust my
own self than another！”
These answers； and his manner； were strange enough to cause
my Guardian to inquire of Mr Woodcourt； as we all walked across
Lincoln’s Inn together； whether Mr Krook were really； as his
lodger represented him； deranged？ The young surgeon replied；
no； he had seen no reason to think so。 He was exceedingly
distrustful； as ignorance usually was； and he was always more or
less under the influence of raw gin； of which he drank great
quantities； and of which he and his back…shop； as we might have
observed； smelt strongly； but he did not think him mad； as yet。
On our way home； I so conciliated Peepy’s affections by buying
him a windmill and two flour…sacks； that he would suffer nobody
else to take off his hat and gloves； and would sit nowhere but at my
side。 Caddy sat upon the other side of me； next to Ada； to whom
we imparted the whole history of the engagement as soon as we
got back。 We made much of Caddy； and Peepy too； and Caddy
brightened exceedingly； and my Guardian was as merry as we
were； and we were all very happy indeed； until Caddy went home
at night in a hackney…coach； with Peepy fast asleep； but holding
tight to the windmill。
I have forgotten to mention—at least I have not mentioned—
that Mr Woodcourt was the same dark young surgeon whom we
had met at Mr Badger’s。 Or； that Mr Jarndyce invited him to
dinner that day。 Or； that he came。 Or； that when they were all
gone； and I said to Ada； “Now； my darling； let us have a little talk
about Richard！” Ada laughed and said—
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But； I don’t think it matters what my darling said。 She was
always merry。
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Chapter 15
Bell Yard
hile we were in London； Mr Jarndyce was constantly
Wbeset by the crowd of excitable ladies and gentlemen
whose proceedings had so much astonished us。 Mr
Quale； who presented himself soon after our arrival； was in all
such excitements。 He seemed to project those two shining knobs of
temples of his into everything that went on； and to brush his hair
farther and farther back； until the very roots were almost ready to
fly out of his head in inappeasable philanthropy。 All objects were
alike to him； but he was always particularly ready for anything in
the way of a testimonial to any one。 His great power seemed to be
his power of indiscriminate admiration。 He would sit； for any
length of time； with the utmost enjoyment； bathing his temples in
the light of any order of luminary。 Having first seen him perfectly
swallowed up in admiration of Mrs Jellyby； I had supposed her to
be the absorbing object of his devotion。 I soon discovered my
mistake； and found him to be train…bearer and organ…blower to a
whole procession of people。
Mrs Pardiggle came one day for a subscription to something—
and with her； Mr Quale。 Whatever Mrs Pardiggle said； Mr Quale
repeated to us； and just as he had drawn Mrs Jellyby out； he drew
Mrs Pardiggle out。 Mrs Pardiggle wrote a letter of introduction to
my Guardian； in behalf of her eloquent friend； Mr Gusher。 With
Mr Gusher； appeared Mr Quale again。 Mr Gusher； being a flabby
gentleman with a moist surface； and eyes so much too small for his
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