bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第211节
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physician； in her disjointed manner； on coming down in full array；
that General George； whom she often calls upon； knows her dear
Fitz…Jarndyce； and takes a great interest in all connected with her；
Allan is induced to think that they may be in the right way。 So he
tells Jo； for his encouragement； that this walking about will soon
be over now； and they repair to the General’s。 Fortunately it is not
far。
From the exterior of George’s Shooting Gallery； and the long
entry； and the bare perspective beyond it； Allan Woodcourt augurs
well。 He also descries promise in the figure of Mr George himself；
striding towards them in his morning exercise with his pipe in his
mouth； no stock on； and his muscular arms； developed by
broadsword and dumbbell； weightily asserting themselves through
his light shirt…sleeves。
“Your servant； sir；” says Mr George with a military salute。
Good…humouredly smiling all over his broad forehead up into his
crisp hair； he then defers to Miss Flite； as； with great stateliness；
and at some length she performs the courtly ceremony of
presentation。 He winds it up with another “Your servant； sir！” and
another salute。
“Excuse me； sir。 A sailor I believe？” says Mr George。
“I am proud to find I have the air of one；” returns Allan； “But I
am only a sea…going doctor。”
“Indeed； sir！ I should have thought you was a regular blue…
jacket； myself。”
Allan hopes Mr George will forgive his intrusion the more
readily on that account； and particularly that he will not lay aside
his pipe； which； in his politeness； he has testified some intention of
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doing。 “You are very good； sir；” returns the trooper。 “As I know；
by experience； that it’s not disagreeable to Miss Flite； and since it’s
equally agreeable to yourself—” and finishes the sentence by
putting it between his lips again。 Allan proceeds to tell him all he
knows about Jo； unto which the trooper listens with a grave face。
“And that’s the lad； sir； is it？” he inquires； looking along the
entry to where Jo stands staring up at the great letters on the
whitewashed front； which have no meaning in his eyes。
“That’s he；” says Allan。 “And； Mr George； I am in this difficulty
about him。 I am unwilling to place him a hospital； even if I could
procure him immediate admission； because I foresee that he
would not stay there many hours； if he could be so much as got
there。 The same objection applies to a workhouse； supposing I had
the patience to be evaded and shirked； and handed about from
post to pillar in trying to get him into one—which is a system that I
don’t take kindly to。”
“No man does； sir；” returns Mr George。
“I am convinced that he would not remain in either place；
because he is possessed by an extraordinary terror of this person
who ordered him to keep out of the way； in his ignorance； he
believes this person to be everywhere； and cognisant of
everything。”
“I ask your pardon； sir；” says Mr George。 “But you have not
mentioned that party’s name。 Is it a secret； sir？”
“The boy makes it one。 But the name is Bucket。”
“Bucket the Detective； sir？”
“The same man。”
“The man is known to me； sir；” returns the trooper； after
blowing out a cloud of smoke； and squaring his chest； “and the boy
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is so far correct that he undoubtedly is a—rum customer。” Mr
George smokes with a profound meaning after this； and surveys
Miss Flite in silence。
“Now； I wish Mr Jarndyce and Miss Summerson at least to
know that this Jo； who tells so strange a story； has reappeared；
and to have it in their power to speak with him； if they should
desire to do so。 Therefore I want to get him； for the present
moment； into any poor lodging kept by decent people； where he
would be admitted。 Decent people and Jo； Mr George；” says Allan；
following the direction of the trooper’s eyes along the entry； “have
not been much acquainted； as you see。 Hence the difficulty。 Do
you happen to know any one in this neighbourhood； who would
receive him for a while； on my paying for him beforehand？”
As he puts the question； he becomes aware of a dirty…faced little
man； standing at the trooper’s elbow； and looking up； with an
oddly twisted figure and countenance； into the trooper’s face。
After a few more puffs at his pipe； the trooper looks down askant
at the little man； and the little man winks up at the trooper。
“Well sir；” says Mr George； “I can assure you that I would
willingly be knocked on the head at any time； if it would be at all
agreeable to Miss Summerson； and consequently I esteem it a
privilege to do that young lady any service； however small。 We are
naturally in the vagabond way here； sir； both myself and Phil。 You
see what the place is。 You are welcome to a quiet corner of it for
the boy； if the same would meet your views。 No charge made；
except for rations。 We are not in a flourishing state of
circumstances here； sir。 We are liable to be tumbled out neck and
crop； at a moment’s notice。 However； sir； such as the place is； and
so long as it lasts； here it is at your service。”
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With a comprehensive wave of his pipe； Mr George places the
whole building at his visitor’s disposal。
“I take it for granted； sir；” he adds； “you being one of the
medical staff； that there is no present infection about this
unfortunate subject？”
Allan is quite sure of it。
“Because； sir；” says Mr George； shaking his head sorrowfully；
“we have had enough of that。”
His tone is no less sorrowfully echoed by his new acquaintance。
“Still； I am bound to tell you；” observes Allan； after repeating his
former assurance； “that the boy is deplorably low and reduced；
and that he may be—I do not say that he is—too far gone to
recover。”
“Do you consider him in present danger； sir？” inquires the
trooper。
“Yes； I fear so。”
“Then； sir；” returns the trooper； in a decisive manner； “it
appears to me—being naturally in the vagabond way myself—that
the sooner he comes out of the street； the better。 You Phil！ Bring
him in！”
Mr Squod tacks out； all on one side； to execute the word of
command； and the trooper； having smoked his pipe； lays it by。 Jo
is brought in。 He is not one of Mrs Pardiggle’s Tockahoopo
Indians； he is not one of Mrs Jellyby’s lambs； being wholly
unconnected with Borrioboola…Gha； he is not softened by distance
and unfamiliarity； he is not a genuine foreign…grown savage； he is
the ordinary home…made article。 Dirty； ugly； disagreeable to all the
senses； in body a common creature of the common streets； only in
soul a heathen。 Homely filth begrimes him； homely parasites
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devour him； homely sores are in him； homely rags are on him：
native ignorance； the growth of English soil and climate； sinks his
immortal nature lower than the beasts that perish。 Stand forth； Jo；
in uncompromising colours！ From the sole of thy foot to the crown
of thy head； there is nothing interesting about thee
