barnaby rudge(巴纳比·卢杰)-第15节
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his pocket before returning home； and it was quite notorious that
on all great holiday occasions it was his habit to exchange his plain
steel knee…buckles for a pair of glittering paste； under cover of a
friendly post； planted most conveniently in that same spot。 Add to
this that he was in years just twenty； in his looks much older； and
in conceit at least two hundred； that he had no objection to be
jested with； touching his admiration of his master’s daughter； and
had even； when called upon at a certain obscure tavern to pledge
the lady whom he honoured with his love； toasted； with many
winks and leers； a fair creature whose Christian name； he said；
began with a D—；—and as much is known of Sim Tappertit； who
has by this time followed the locksmith in to breakfast； as is
necessary to be known in making his acquaintance。
It was a substantial meal； for； over and above the ordinary tea
equipage； the board creaked beneath the weight of a jolly round of
beef； a ham of the first magnitude； and sundry towers of buttered
Yorkshire cake； piled slice upon slice in most alluring order。 There
was also a goodly jug of well…browned clay； fashioned into the form
of an old gentleman； not by any means unlike the locksmith； atop
of whose bald head was a fine white froth answering to his wig；
indicative； beyond dispute； of sparkling home…brewed ale。 But；
better far than fair home…brewed； or Yorkshire cake； or ham； or
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beef； or anything to eat or drink that earth or air or water can
supply； there sat； presiding over all； the locksmith’s rosy daughter；
before whose dark eyes even beef grew insignificant； and malt
became as nothing。
Fathers should never kiss their daughters when young men are
by。 It’s too much。 There are bounds to human endurance。 So
thought Sim Tappertit when Gabriel drew those rosy lips to his—
those lips within Sim’s reach from day to day； and yet so far off。 He
had a respect for his master； but he wished the Yorkshire cake
might choke him。
‘Father；’ said the locksmith’s daughter； when this salute was
over； and they took their seats at table； ‘what is this I hear about
last night？’
‘All true； my dear； true as the Gospel； Doll。’
‘Young Mr Chester robbed； and lying wounded in the road；
when you came up！’
‘Ay—Mr Edward。 And beside him； Barnaby； calling for help
with all his might。 It was well it happened as it did； for the road’s a
lonely one； the hour was late； and； the night being cold； and poor
Barnaby even less sensible than usual from surprise and fright；
the young gentleman might have met his death in a very short
time。’
‘I dread to think of it！’ cried his daughter with a shudder。 ‘How
did you know him？’
‘Know him！’ returned the locksmith。 ‘I didn’t know him—how
could I？ I had never seen him； often as I had heard and spoken of
him。 I took him to Mrs Rudge’s； and she no sooner saw him than
the truth came out。’
‘Miss Emma； father—If this news should reach her； enlarged
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upon as it is sure to be； she will go distracted。’
‘Why； lookye there again； how a man suffers for being good…
natured；’ said the locksmith。 ‘Miss Emma was with her uncle at
the masquerade at Carlisle House； where she had gone； as the
people at the Warren told me； sorely against her will。 What does
your blockhead father when he and Mrs Rudge have laid their
heads together； but goes there when he ought to be abed； makes
interest with his friend the doorkeeper； slips him on a mask and
domino； and mixes with the masquers。’
‘And like himself to do so！’ cried the girl； putting her fair arm
round his neck； and giving him a most enthusiastic kiss。
‘Like himself！’ repeated Gabriel； affecting to grumble； but
evidently delighted with the part he had taken； and with her
praise。 ‘Very like himself—so your mother said。 However； he
mingled with the crowd； and prettily worried and badgered he
was； I warrant you； with people squeaking； “Don’t you know me？”
and “I’ve found you out；” and all that kind of nonsense in his ears。
He might have wandered on till now； but in a little room there was
a young lady who had taken off her mask； on account of the place
being very warm； and was sitting there alone。’
‘And that was she？’ said his daughter hastily。
‘And that was she；’ replied the locksmith； ‘and I no sooner
whispered to her what the matter was—as softly； Doll； and with
nearly as much art as you could have used yourself—than she
gives a kind of scream and faints away。’
‘What did you do—what happened next？’ asked his daughter。
‘Why； the masks came flocking round； with a general noise and
hubbub； and I thought myself in luck to get clear off； that’s all；’
rejoined the locksmith。 ‘What happened when I reached home you
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may guess； if you didn’t hear it。 Ah！ Well； it’s a poor heart that
never rejoices。—Put Toby this way； my dear。’
This Toby was the brown jug of which previous mention has
been made。 Applying his lips to the worthy old gentleman’s
benevolent forehead； the locksmith； who had all this time been
ravaging among the eatables； kept them there so long； at the same
time raising the vessel slowly in the air； that at length Toby stood
on his head upon his nose； when he smacked his lips； and set him
on the table again with fond reluctance。
Although Sim Tappertit had taken no share in this
conversation； no part of it being addressed to him； he had not been
wanting in such silent manifestations of astonishment； as he
deemed most compatible with the favourable display of his eyes。
Regarding the pause which now ensued； as a particularly
advantageous opportunity for doing great execution with them
upon the locksmith’s daughter （who he had no doubt was looking
at him in mute admiration）； he began to screw and twist his face；
and especially those features； into such extraordinary； hideous；
and unparalleled contortions； that Gabriel； who happened to look
towards him； was stricken with amazement。
‘Why； what the devil’s the matter with the lad？’ cried the
locksmith。 ‘Is he choking？’
‘Who？’ demanded Sim； with some disdain。
‘Who？ Why； you；’ returned his master。 ‘What do you mean by
making those horrible faces over your breakfast？’
‘Faces are matters of taste； sir；’ said Mr Tappertit； rather
discomfited； not the less so because he saw the locksmith’s
daughter smiling。
‘Sim；’ rejoined Gabriel； laughing heartily。 ‘Don’t be a fool； for
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I’d rather see you in your senses。 These young fellows；’ he added；
turning to his daughter； ‘are always committing some folly or
another。 There was a quarrel between Joe Willet and old John last
night though I can’t say Joe was much in fault either。 He’ll be
missing one of these mornings； and will have gone away upon
some wild…goose errand； seeking his fortune。—Why； what’s the
matter； Doll？ You are making faces
