bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第75节
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by me； and to know that in ignorance I belong to them； and not to
the superior beings in my shape； whose delicacy I offend！ Jo’s
ideas of a Criminal Trial； or a Judge； or a Bishop； or a
Government； or that inestimable jewel to him （if he only knew it）
the Constitution； should be strange！ His whole material and
immaterial life is wonderfully strange； his death； the strangest
thing of all。
Jo comes out of Tom…all…Alone’s； meeting the tardy morning
which is always late in getting down there； and munches his dirty
bit of bread as he comes along。 His way lying through many
streets； and the houses not yet being open； he sits down to
breakfast on the doorstep of the Society for the Propagation of the
Gospel in Foreign Parts； and gives it a brush when he has finished；
as an acknowledgment of the accommodation。 He admires the size
of the edifice； and wonders what it’s all about。 He has no idea；
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poor wretch； of the spiritual destitution of a coral reef in the
Pacific； or what it costs to look up the precious souls among the
cocoa…nuts and bread…fruit。
He goes to his crossing； and begins to lay it out for the day。 The
town awakes； the great tee…totum is set up for its daily spin and
whirl； all that unaccountable reading and writing； which has been
suspended for a few hours； recommences。 Jo； and the other lower
animals； get on in the unintelligible mess as they can。 It is market…
day。 The blinded oxen； over…goaded； over…driven； never…guided；
run into wrong places and are beaten out； and plunge； red…eyed
and foaming； at stone walls； and often sorely hurt the innocent；
and often sorely hurt themselves。 Very like Jo and his order； very；
very like！
A band of music comes and plays。 Jo listens to it。 So does a
dog—a drover’s dog； waiting for his master outside a butcher’s
shop； and evidently thinking about those sheep he has had upon
his mind for some hours； and is happily rid of。 He seems perplexed
respecting three or four； can’t remember where he left them； looks
up and down the street； as half expecting to see them astray；
suddenly pricks up his ears and remembers all about it。 A
thoroughly vagabond dog； accustomed to low company and public…
houses； a terrific dog to sheep； ready at a whistle to scamper over
their backs； and tear out mouthfuls of their wool； but an educated；
improved； developed dog； who has been taught his duties and
knows how to discharge them。 He and Jo listen to the music；
probably with much the same amount of animal satisfaction；
likewise； as to awakened association； aspiration； or regret；
melancholy or joyful reference to things beyond the senses； they
are probably upon a par。 But； otherwise； how far above the human
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listener is the brute！
Turn that dog’s descendants wild； like Jo； and in a very few
years they will so degenerate that they will lose even their bark—
but not their bite。
The day changes as it wears itself away； and becomes dark and
drizzly。 Jo fights it out； at his crossing； among the mud and
wheels； the horses； whips； and umbrellas； and gets but a scanty
sum to pay for the unsavoury shelter of Tom…all…Alone’s。 Twilight
comes on； gas begins to start up in the shops； the lamplighter； with
his ladder； runs along the margin of the pavement。 A wretched
evening is beginning to close in。
In his chambers； Mr Tulkinghorn sits meditating an application
to the nearest magistrate tomorrow morning for a warrant。
Gridley； a disappointed suitor； has been here today； and has been
alarming。 We are not to be put in bodily fear； and that ill…
conditioned fellow shall be held to bail again。 From the ceiling；
foreshortened Allegory； in the person of one impossible Roman
upside down； points with the arm of Samson （out of joint； and an
odd one）； obtrusively toward the window。 Why should Mr
Tulkinghorn； for such no reason； look out of window？ Is the hand
not always pointing there？ So he does not look out of window。
And if he did； what would it be to see a woman going by？ There
are women enough in the world； Mr Tulkinghorn thinks—too
many； they are at the bottom of all that goes wrong in it； though；
for the matter of that； they create business for lawyers。 What
would it be to see a woman going by； even though she were going
secretly？ They are all secret。 Mr Tulkinghorn knows that； very
well。
But they are not all like the woman who now leaves him and his
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house behind； between whose plain dress； and her refined
manner； there is something exceedingly inconsistent。 She should
be an upper servant by her attire； yet； in her air and step； though
both are hurried and assumed—as far as she can assume in the
muddy streets； which she treads with an unaccustomed foot—she
is a lady。 Her face is veiled； and still she sufficiently betrays herself
to make more than one of those who pass her look round sharply。
She never turns her head。 Lady or servant； she has a purpose in
her； and can follow it。 She never turns her head； until she comes to
the crossing where Jo plies with his broom。 He crosses with her；
and begs。 Still； she does not turn her head until she has landed on
the other side。 Then； she slightly beckons to him； and says “Come
here！”
Jo follows her； a pace or two； into a quiet court。
“Are you the boy I have read of in the papers？” she asked
behind her veil。
“I don’t know；” says Jo； staring moodily at the veil； “nothink
about no papers。 I don’t know nothink about nothink at all。”
“Were you examined at an Inquest？”
“I don’t know nothink about no…where I was took by the beadle；
do you mean？” says Joe。 “Was the boy’s name at the Inkwhich；
Jo？”
“Yes。”
“That’s me！” says Jo。
“Come farther up。”
“You mean about the man？” says Jo； following。 “Him as wos
dead？”
“Hush！ Speak in a whisper！ Yes。 Did he look； when he was
living； so very ill and poor？”
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“O jist！” says Jo。
“Did he look like—not like you？” says the woman with
abhorrence。
“Oh not so bad as me；” says Jo。 “I’m a reg’lar one I am！ You
didn’t know him； did you？”
“How dare you ask me if I knew him？”
“No offence； my lady；” says Jo； with humility； for even he has
got at the suspicion of her being a lady。
“I am not a lady。 I am a servant。”
“You are a jolly servant！” says Jo； without the least idea of
saying anything offensive； merely as a tribute of admiration。
“Listen and be silent。 Don’t talk to me； and stand farther from
me！ Can you show me all those places that were spoken of in the
account I read？ The place he wrote for； the place he died at； the
place where you were taken to； and the place where he was
buried？ Do you know the place where he was buried？”
Jo answers with a nod； having also nodded as each other place
was mentioned。
“Go before me； and show me all those dreadful places。 Stop
opposite to each； and don’t speak to me unle
