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第20章

lazy tour of two idle apprentices-第20章

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waiter … but without appearing to get into their way; or to mind

whether they did or no … and who had filed off to the right and

left on the old staircase; as the guests entered their sitting…

room。  It was then broad; bright day。  But; Mr。 Goodchild had said;

when their door was shut; 'Who on earth are those old men?'  And

afterwards; both on going out and coming in; he had noticed that

there were no old men to be seen。



Neither; had the old men; or any one of the old men; reappeared

since。  The two friends had passed a night in the house; but had

seen nothing more of the old men。  Mr。 Goodchild; in rambling about

it; had looked along passages; and glanced in at doorways; but had

encountered no old men; neither did it appear that any old men

were; by any member of the establishment; missed or expected。



Another odd circumstance impressed itself on their attention。  It

was; that the door of their sitting…room was never left untouched

for a quarter of an hour。  It was opened with hesitation; opened

with confidence; opened a little way; opened a good way; … always

clapped…to again without a word of explanation。  They were reading;

they were writing; they were eating; they were drinking; they were

talking; they were dozing; the door was always opened at an

unexpected moment; and they looked towards it; and it was clapped…

to again; and nobody was to be seen。  When this had happened fifty

times or so; Mr。 Goodchild had said to his companion; jestingly:

'I begin to think; Tom; there was something wrong with those six

old men。'



Night had come again; and they had been writing for two or three

hours:  writing; in short; a portion of the lazy notes from which

these lazy sheets are taken。  They had left off writing; and

glasses were on the table between them。  The house was closed and

quiet。  Around the head of Thomas Idle; as he lay upon his sofa;

hovered light wreaths of fragrant smoke。  The temples of Francis

Goodchild; as he leaned back in his chair; with his two hands

clasped behind his head; and his legs crossed; were similarly

decorated。



They had been discussing several idle subjects of speculation; not

omitting the strange old men; and were still so occupied; when Mr。

Goodchild abruptly changed his attitude to wind up his watch。  They

were just becoming drowsy enough to be stopped in their talk by any

such slight check。  Thomas Idle; who was speaking at the moment;

paused and said; 'How goes it?'



'One;' said Goodchild。



As if he had ordered One old man; and the order were promptly

executed (truly; all orders were so; in that excellent hotel); the

door opened; and One old man stood there。



He did not come in; but stood with the door in his hand。



'One of the six; Tom; at last!' said Mr。 Goodchild; in a surprised

whisper。 … 'Sir; your pleasure?'



'Sir; YOUR pleasure?' said the One old man。



'I didn't ring。'



'The bell did;' said the One old man。



He said BELL; in a deep; strong way; that would have expressed the

church Bell。



'I had the pleasure; I believe; of seeing you; yesterday?' said

Goodchild。



'I cannot undertake to say for certain;' was the grim reply of the

One old man。



'I think you saw me?  Did you not?'



'Saw YOU?' said the old man。  'O yes; I saw you。  But; I see many

who never see me。'



A chilled; slow; earthy; fixed old man。  A cadaverous old man of

measured speech。  An old man who seemed as unable to wink; as if

his eyelids had been nailed to his forehead。  An old man whose eyes

… two spots of fire … had no more motion than if they had been

connected with the back of his skull by screws driven through it;

and rivetted and bolted outside; among his grey hair。



The night had turned so cold; to Mr。 Goodchild's sensations; that

he shivered。  He remarked lightly; and half apologetically; 'I

think somebody is walking over my grave。'



'No;' said the weird old man; 'there is no one there。'



Mr。 Goodchild looked at Idle; but Idle lay with his head enwreathed

in smoke。



'No one there?' said Goodchild。



'There is no one at your grave; I assure you;' said the old man。



He had come in and shut the door; and he now sat down。  He did not

bend himself to sit; as other people do; but seemed to sink bolt

upright; as if in water; until the chair stopped him。



'My friend; Mr。 Idle;' said Goodchild; extremely anxious to

introduce a third person into the conversation。



'I am;' said the old man; without looking at him; 'at Mr。 Idle's

service。'



'If you are an old inhabitant of this place;' Francis Goodchild

resumed。



'Yes。'



'Perhaps you can decide a point my friend and I were in doubt upon;

this morning。  They hang condemned criminals at the Castle; I

believe?'



'I believe so;' said the old man。



'Are their faces turned towards that noble prospect?'



'Your face is turned;' replied the old man; 'to the Castle wall。

When you are tied up; you see its stones expanding and contracting

violently; and a similar expansion and contraction seem to take

place in your own head and breast。  Then; there is a rush of fire

and an earthquake; and the Castle springs into the air; and you

tumble down a precipice。'



His cravat appeared to trouble him。  He put his hand to his throat;

and moved his neck from side to side。  He was an old man of a

swollen character of face; and his nose was immoveably hitched up

on one side; as if by a little hook inserted in that nostril。  Mr。

Goodchild felt exceedingly uncomfortable; and began to think the

night was hot; and not cold。



'A strong description; sir;' he observed。



'A strong sensation;' the old man rejoined。



Again; Mr。 Goodchild looked to Mr。 Thomas Idle; but Thomas lay on

his back with his face attentively turned towards the One old man;

and made no sign。  At this time Mr。 Goodchild believed that he saw

threads of fire stretch from the old man's eyes to his own; and

there attach themselves。  (Mr。  Goodchild writes the present

account of his experience; and; with the utmost solemnity; protests

that he had the strongest sensation upon him of being forced to

look at the old man along those two fiery films; from that moment。)



'I must tell it to you;' said the old man; with a ghastly and a

stony stare。



'What?' asked Francis Goodchild。



'You know where it took place。  Yonder!'



Whether he pointed to the room above; or to the room below; or to

any room in that old house; or to a room in some other old house in

that old town; Mr。 Goodchild was not; nor is; nor ever can be;

sure。  He was confused by the circumstance that the right

forefinger of the One old man seemed to dip itself in one of the

threads of fire; light itself; and make a fiery start in the air;

as it pointed somewhere。  Having pointed somewhere; it went out。



'You know she was a Bride;' said the old man。



'I know they still send up Bride…cake;' Mr。 Goodchild faltered。

'This is a very oppressive air。'



'She was a Bride;' said the old man。  'She was a fair; flaxen…

haired; large…eyed girl; who had no character; no purpose。  A weak;

credulous; incapable; helpless nothing。  Not like her mother。  No;

no。  It was her father whose character she reflected。



'Her mother had taken care to secure everything to herself; for her

own life; when the father of this girl (a child at that time) died

… of sheer helplessness; no other disorder … and then He renewed

the acquaintance that had once subsisted between the mother and

Him。  He had been put aside for the flaxen…haired; large…eyed man

(or nonentity) with Money。  He could overlook that for Money。  He

wanted compensation in Money。



'So; he returned to the side of that woman the mother; made love to

her again; danced attendance on her; and submitted himself to her

whims。  She wreaked upon him every whim she had; or could invent。

He bore it。  And the more he bore; the more he wanted co

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