bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第100节
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both hands to embrace him。 “Never！ Never； my dear friend！ But
my friend in the city that I got to lend you the money—he might！”
“O！ you can’t answer for him？” says Mr George； finishing the
inquiry； in his lower key； with the words “you lying old rascal！”
“My dear friend； he is not to be depended on。 I wouldn’t trust
him。 He will have his bond； my dear friend。”
“Devil doubt him；” says Mr George。 Charley appearing with a
tray； on which are the pipe； a small paper of tobacco； and the
brandy and water； he asks her； “How do you come here！ you
haven’t got the family face。”
“I goes out to work； sir；” returns Charley。
The trooper （if trooper he be or have been） takes her bonnet off；
with a light touch for so strong a hand； and pats her on the head。
“You give the house almost a wholesome look。 It wants a bit of
youth as much as it wants fresh air。” Then he dismisses her； lights
his pipe； and drinks to Mr Smallweed’s friend in the city—the one
solitary flight of that esteemed old gentleman’s imagination。
“So you think he might be hard upon me； eh？”
“I think he might—I am afraid he would。 I have known him to
do it；” says Grandfather Smallweed； incautiously； “twenty times。”
Incautiously； because his stricken better…half； who has been
dozing over the fire for some time； is instantly aroused and jabbers
“Twenty thousand pounds； twenty twenty…pound notes in a
moneybox； twenty guineas； twenty million twenty per cent；
twenty—” and is then cut short by the flying cushion； which the
visitor； to whom the singular experiment appears to be a novelty；
snatches from her face as it crushes her in the usual manner。
“You’re a brimstone idiot。 You’re a scorpion—a brimstone
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scorpion！ You’re a sweltering toad。 You’re a chattering clattering
broomstick witch； that ought to be burnt！” gasps the old man；
prostrate in his chair。 “My dear friend； will you shake me up a
little？”
Mr George； who has been looking first at one of them and then
at the other； as if he were demented； takes his venerable
acquaintance by the throat on receiving this request； and dragging
him upright in his chair as easily as if he were a doll； appears in
two minds whether or no to shake all future power of cushioning
out of him； and shake him into his grave。 Resisting the temptation；
but agitating him violently enough to make his head roll like a
harlequin’s； he puts him smartly down in his chair again； and
adjusts his skull…cap with such a rub； that the old man winks both
eyes for a minute afterwards。
“O Lord！” gasps Mr Smallweed。 That’ll do。 Thank you； my dear
friend； that’ll do。 O dear me； I’m out of breath。 O Lord！” And Mr
Smallweed says it； not without evident apprehensions of his dear
friend； who still stands over him looming larger than ever。
The alarming presence； however； gradually subsides into its
chair； and falls to smoking in long puffs； consoling itself with the
philosophical reflection； “The name of your friend in the city
begins a D； comrade； and you’re about right respecting the bond。”
“Did you speak； Mr George？” inquires the old man。
The trooper shakes his head； and leaning forward with his right
elbow on his right knee and his pipe supported in that hand； while
his other hand； resting on his left leg； squares his left elbow in a
martial manner； continues to smoke。 Meanwhile he looks at Mr
Smallweed with grave attention； and now and then fans the cloud
of smoke away； in order that he may see him the more clearly。
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“I take it；” he says； making just as much and as little change in
his position as will enable him to reach the glass to his lips； with a
round； full action； “that I am the only man alive （or dead either）；
that gets the value of a pipe out of you？”
“Well！” returns the old man； “it’s true that I don’t see company；
Mr George； and that I don’t treat。 I can’t afford to it。 But as you； in
your pleasant way； made your pipe a condition—”
“Why； it’s not for the value of it； that’s no great thing。 It was a
fancy to get it out of you。 To have something in for my money。”
“Ha！ You’re prudent； prudent； sir！” cries Grandfather
Smallweed； rubbing his legs。
“Very。 I always was。” Puff。 “It’s a sure sign of my prudence； that
I ever found the way here。” Puff。 “Also； that I am what I am。” Puff。
“I am well known to be prudent；” says Mr George； composedly
smoking。 “I rose in life； that way。”
“Don’t be down…hearted； sir。 You may rise yet。”
Mr George laughs and drinks。
“Ha’n’t you no relations； now；” asks Grandfather Smallweed；
with a twinkle in his eyes； “who would pay off this little principal；
or who would lend you a good name or two that I could persuade
my friend in the city to make you a further advance upon？ Two
good names would be sufficient for my friend in the city。 Ha’n’t
you no such relations； Mr George？”
Mr George； still composedly smoking； replies； “If I had； I
shouldn’t trouble them。 I have been trouble enough to my
belongings in my day。 It may be a very good sort of penitence in a
vagabond； who has wasted the best time of his life； to go back then
to decent people that he never was a credit to； and live upon them；
but it’s not my sort。 The best kind of amends then； for having gone
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away； is to keep away； in my opinion。”
“But natural affection； Mr George；” hints Grandfather
Smallweed。
“For two good names； hey？” says Mr George； shaking his head；
and still composedly smoking。 “No。 That’s not my sort； either。”
Grandfather Smallweed has been gradually sliding down in his
chair since his last adjustment； and is now a bundle of clothes；
with a voice in it calling for Judy。 That Houri appearing； shakes
him up in the usual manner； and is charged by the old gentleman
to remain near him。 For he seems chary of putting his visitor to
the trouble of repeating his late attentions。
“Ha！” he observes； when he is in trim again。 “If you could have
traced out the Captain； Mr George； it would have been the making
of you。 If； when you first came here； in consequence of our
advertisements in the newspapers—when I say ‘our；’ I’m alluding
to the advertisements of my friend in the city； and one or two
others who embark their capital in the same way； and are so
friendly towards me as sometimes to give me a lift with my little
pittance—if； at that time； you could have helped us； Mr George； it
would have been the making of you。”
“I was willing enough to be ‘made；’ as you call it；” says Mr
George； smoking not quite so placidly as before； for since the
entrance of Judy he has been in some measure disturbed by a
fascination； not of the admiring kind； which obliges him to look at
her as she stands by her grandfather’s chair； “but； on the whole； I
am glad I wasn’t now。”
“Why； Mr George？ In the name of—of Brimstone； why？” says
Grandfather Smallweed； with a plain appearance of exasperation。
（Brimstone apparently suggested by his eye lighting on Mrs
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Smallweed in her slumber。） “For two reasons； comrade。”
“And what two reasons； Mr George？ In the name of the—”
“Of our friend in the city？�
