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oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第80章

小说: oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪)) 字数: 每页4000字

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something to drink; as he passed the bar; entered the apartment 
into which he had looked from the street。 

The man who was seated there; was tall and dark; and wore a 
large cloak。 He had the air of a stranger; and seemed; by a certain 
haggardness in his look; as well as by the dusty soils on his dress; 
to have travelled some distance。 He eyed Bumble askance; as he 
entered; but scarcely deigned to nod his head in acknowledgement 

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of his salutation。 

Mr。 Bumble had quite dignity enough for two; supposing even 
that the stranger had been more familiar; so he drank his gin…andwater in silence; and read the paper with great show of pomp and 
circumstance。 

It so happened; however; as it will happen very often; when 
men fall into company under such circumstances; that Mr。 
Bumble felt; every now and then; a powerful inducement; which 
he could not resist; to steal a look at the stranger; and that 
whenever he did so; he withdrew his eyes; in some confusion; to 
find that the stranger was at that moment stealing a look at him。 
Mr。 Bumble’s awkwardness was enhanced by the very remarkable 
expression of the stranger’s eye; which was keen and bright; but 
shadowed by a scowl of distrust and suspicion; unlike anything he 
had ever observed before; and repulsive to behold。 

When they had encountered each other’s glance several times 
in this way; the stranger; in a harsh; deep voice; broke silence。 

“Were you looking for me;” he said; “when you peered in at the 
window?” 

“Not that I am aware of; unless you’re Mr。—” Here Mr。 Bumble 
stopped short; for he was curious to know the Like washable 
beaver hats that improve with rain; his nerves were rendered 
stouter and more vigorous; by showers of tears; which; being 
tokens of weakness; and so far tacit admissions of his own power; 
pleased and exalted him。 He eyed his good lady with looks of great 
satisfaction; and begged; in an encouraging manner; that she 
should cry her hardest; the exercise being looked upon; by the 
faculty; as strongly conducive to health。 

“It opens the lungs; washes the countenance; exercises the 

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Oliver Twist 387 

eyes; and softens down the temper;” said Mr。 Bumble。 “So cry 
away。” 

As he discharged himself of his pleasantry; Mr。 Bumble took his 
hat from a peg; and putting it on; rather rakishly on one side; as a 
man might; who felt he had asserted his superiority in a becoming 
manner; thrust his hands into his pockets; and sauntered towards 
the door; with much ease and waggishness depicted in his whole 
appearance。 

Now; Mrs。 Corney that was; had tried the tears; because 
stranger’s name; and thought in his impatience; he might supply 
the blank。 

“I see you were not;” said the stranger; an expression of 
sarcasm playing about his mouth; “or you would have known my 
name。 You don’t know it。 I would recommend you not to ask for 
it。” 

“I mean no harm; young man;” observed Mr。 Bumble 
majestically。 

“And have done none;” said the stranger。 

Another silence succeeded this short dialogue; which was again 
broken by the stranger。 

“I have seen you before; I think?” said he。 “You were differently 
dressed at that time; and I only passed you in the street; but I 
should know you again。 You were beadle here once; were you 
not?” 

“I was;” said Mr。 Bumble; in some surprise; “porochial beadle。” 

“Just so;” rejoined the other; nodding his head。 “It was in that 
character I saw you。 What are you now?” 

“Master of the workhouse;” rejoined Mr。 Bumble; slowly and 
impressively; to check any undue familiarity the stranger might 

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otherwise assume。 “Master of the workhouse; young man!” 

“You have the same eye to your own interest; that you always 
had; I doubt not?” resumed the stranger; looking keenly into Mr。 
Bumble’s eyes; as he raised them in astonishment at the question。 
“Don’t scruple to answer freely; man。 I know you pretty well; you 
see。” 

“I suppose; a married man;” replied Mr。 Bumble; shading his 
eyes with his hand; and surveying the stranger; from head to foot; 
in evident perplexity; “is not more averse to turning an honest 
penny when he can; than a single one。 Porochial officers are not so 
well paid that they can afford to refuse any little extra fee; when it 
comes to them in a civil and proper manner。” 

The stranger smiled; and nodded his head again; as much as to 
say; he had not mistaken his man; then rang the “Fill this glass 
again;” he said; handing Mr。 Bumble’s empty tumbler to the 
landlord。 “Let it be strong and hot。 You like it so; I suppose?” a 
Not too strong;” replied Mr。 Bumble; with a delicate cough。 

“You understand what that means; landlord!” said the stranger 
dryly。 

The host smiled; disappeared; and shortly afterwards returned 
with a steaming jorum; of which; the first gulp brought the water 
into Mr。 Bumble’s eyes。 

“Now listen to me;” said the stranger; after closing the door and 
window。 “I came down to this place; today; to find you out; and; by 
one of those chances which the devil throws in the way of his 
friends sometimes; you walked into the very room I was sitting in; 
while you were uppermost in my mind。 I want some information 
from you。 I don’t ask you to give it for nothing; slight as it is。 Put 
up that; to begin with。” 

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Oliver Twist 389 

As he spoke; he pushed a couple of sovereigns across the table; 
to his companion; carefully; as though unwilling that the clinking 
of money should be heard without。 When Mr。 Bumble had 
scrupulously examined the coins; to see that they were genuine; 
and had put them up; with much satisfaction in his waistcoat 
pocket; he went on: 

“Carry your memory back—let me see—twelve years; last 
winter。” 

“It’s a long time;” said Mr。 Bumble。 “Very good。 I’ve done it。” 

“The scene; the workhouse。” 

“Good!” 

“And the time; night。” 

“Yes。” 

“And the place; the crazy hole; wherever it was; in which 
miserable drabs brought forth the life and health so often denied 
to themselves—gave birth to puling children for the parish to rear; 
and hid their shame; rot ’em; in the grave!” 

“The lying…in room; I suppose?” said Mr。 Bumble; not quite 
following the stranger’s excited description。 

“Yes;” said the stranger。 “A boy was born there。” 

“A many boys;” observed Mr。 Bumble; shaking his head 
despondingly。 

“A murrain on the young devils!” cried the stranger; “I speak of 
one; a meek…looking; pale…faced boy; who was apprenticed down 
here to a coffin…maker—I wish he had made his coffin; and 
screwed his body in it—and who afterwards ran away to London; 
as it was supposed。” 

“Why; you mean Oliver! Young Twist!” said Mr。 Bumble; “I 
remember him; of course。 There wasn’t an obstinater young 

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Oliver Twist 390 

rascal—” 

“It’s not of him I want to hear; I’ve heard enough of him;” said 
the stranger; stopping Mr。 Bumble in the very outset of a tirade on 
the subject of poor Oliver’s vices。 “It’s of a woman; the hag that 
nursed his mother。 Where is she?” 

“Where is she?” said Mr。 Bumble; whom the gin…and…water had 
rendered facetious。 “It would be hard to tell。 There’s no midwifery 
there; whichever place she’s gone to; so I suppose she’s out of 
employment; anyway。” 

“What do you mean?” demanded the stranger sternly。 

“That she died last winter;” rejoined Mr。 Bumble。 

The man looked fixedly at him when he had given this 
information; and although he did not withdraw his eyes for some 
time afterwards; his gaze gradually became vacant and abstracted; 
and he seemed lost in thought。 For some time; he appeared 
doubtful whether he ought to be relieved or disappointed by the 
intelligence; but at length he breathed more freely; and 
withdrawing his eyes; observed that it was no great matter。 With 
that he rose; as

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