有声名著之双城记
CHAPTER VIHundreds of People
THE quiet lodgings of Doctor Manette were in a quiet street-corner not far from Soho-square. On the afternoon of a certainfine Sunday when the waves of four months had rolled over thetrial for treason, and carried it, as to the public interestand memory, far out to sea, Mr. Jarvis Lorry walked along thesunny streets from Clerkenwell where he lived, on his way todine with the Doctor. After several relapses into business-absorption, Mr. Lorry had become the Doctor's friend, and thequiet street-corner was the sunny part of his life.
On this certain fine Sunday, Mr. Lorry walked towards Soho,early in the afternoon, for three reasons of habit. Firstly,because, on fine Sundays, he often walked out, before dinner,with the Doctor and Lucie; secondly, because, on unfavourableSundays, he was accustomed to be with them as the familyfriend, talking, reading, looking out of window, and generallygetting through the day; thirdly, because he happened to havehis own little shrewd doubts to solve, and knew how the waysof the Doctor's household pointed to that time as a likelytime for solving them.
A quainter corner than the corner where the Doctor lived, wasnot to be found in London. There was no way through it, andthe front windows of the Doctor's lodgings commanded apleasant little vista of street that had a congenial air ofretirement on it. There were few buildings then, north of theOxford-road, and forest-trees flourished, and wild flowersgrew, and the hawthorn blossomed, in the now vanished fields.
As a consequence, country airs circulated in Soho withvigorous freedom, instead of languishing into the parish likestray paupers without a settlement; and there was many a goodsouth wall, not far off, on which the peaches ripened in theirseason.
The summer light struck into the corner brilliantly in theearlier part of the day; but, when the streets grew hot, thecorner was in shadow, though not in shadow so remote but thatyou could see beyond it into a glare of brightness. It was acool spot, staid but cheerful, a wonderful place for echoes,and a very harbour from the raging streets.
There ought to have been a tranquil bark in such ananchorage, and there was. The Doctor occupied two floors of alarge still house, where several callings purported to bepursued by day, but whereof little was audible any day, andwhich was shunned by all of them at night. In a building atthe back, attainable by a court-yard' where a plane-treerustled its green leaves, church-organs claimed to be made,and silver to be chased, and likewise gold to be beaten bysome mysterious giant who had a golden arm starting out of thewall of the front hall--as if he had beaten himself precious,and menaced a similar conversion of all visitors. Very littleof these trades, or of a lonely lodger rumoured to live up-stairs, or of a dim coach-trimming maker asserted to have acounting-house below, was ever heard or seen. Occasionally, astray workman putting his coat on, traversed the hall, or astranger peered about there, or a distant clink was heardacross the court-yard, or a thump from the golden giant.
These, how-ever, were only the exceptions required to provethe rule that the sparrows in the plane-tree behind the house,and the echoes in the corner before it, had their own way fromSunday morning unto Saturday night.
Doctor Manette received such patients here as his oldreputation, and its revival in the floating whispers of hisstory, brought him. His scientific knowledge, and hisvigilance and skill in conducting ingenious experiments,brought him other-wise into moderate request, and he earned a,much as he wanted. #p#副标题#e#These things were within Mr. Jarvis Lorry's knowledge,thoughts, and notice, when he rang the door-bell of thetranquil house in the corner, on the fine Sunday afternoon.
`Doctor Manette at home?'
Expected home.
`Miss Lucie at home?'
Expected home.
`Miss Pross at home?'
Possibly at home, but of a certainty impossible for hand-maidto anticipate intentions of Miss Pross, as to admission ordenial of the fact.
`As I am at home myself,' said Mr. Lorry, `I'll go up-stairs.'
Although the Doctor's daughter had known nothing of thecountry of her birth, she appeared to have innately derivedfrom it that ability to make much of little means, which isone of its most useful and most agreeable characteristics.
Simple as the furniture was, it was set off by so many littleadornments, of no value but for their taste and fancy, thatits effect was delightful. The disposition of everything inthe rooms, from the largest object to the least; thearrangement of colours, the elegant variety and contrastobtained by thrift in trifles, by delicate hands, clear eyes,and good sense; were at once so pleasant in themselves, and soexpressive of their originator, that, as Mr. Lorry stoodlooking about him, the very chairs and tables seemed to askhim, with something of that peculiar expression which he knewso well by this time, whether he approved?
There were three rooms on a floor, and, the doors by whichthey communicated being put open that the air might passfreely through them all, Mr. Lorry, smilingly observant ofthat fanciful resemblance which he detected all around him,walked from one to another. The first was the best room, andin it were Lucie's birds, and flowers, and books, and desk,and work-table, and box of water-colours; the second was theDoctor's consulting-room, used also as the dining-room; thethird, changingly speckled by the rustle of the plane-tree inthe yard, was the Doctor's bedroom, and there, in a corner,stood the disused shoemaker's bench and tray of tools, much asit had stood on the fifth floor of the dismal house by thewine-shop, in the suburb of Saint Antoine in Paris.
`I wonder,' said Mr. Lorry, pausing in his looking about,`that he keeps that reminder of his sufferings about him!'
`And why wonder at that?' was the abrupt inquiry that madehim start.
It proceeded from Miss Pross, the wild red woman, strong ofhand, whose acquaintance he had first made at the Royal GeorgeHotel at Dover, and had since improved.
`I should have thought---`Mr. Lorry began.
`Pooh! You'd have thought!' said Miss Pross; and Mr. Lorryleft off.
`How do you do?' inquired that lady then--sharply, and yet asif to express that she bore him no malice.
`I am pretty well, I thank you,' answered Mr. Lorry, withmeekness; `how are you?'
`Nothing to boast of,' said Miss Pross.
`Indeed?'
`Ah! indeed!' said Miss Pross. `I am very much put out aboutmy Ladybird.'
`Indeed?'
`For gracious sake say something else besides ``indeed,'' oryou'll fidget me to death,' said Miss Pross: whose character(dissociated from stature) was shortness.'
`Really, then?' said Mr. Lorry, as an amendment.
`Really, is bad enough,' returned Miss Pross, `but better.
Yes, I am very much put out.'
`May I ask the cause?'
`I don't want dozens of people who are not at all worthy ofLadybird, to come here looking after her,' said Miss Pross.
`Do dozens come for that purpose?'
`Hundreds,' said Miss Pross.
It was characteristic of this lady (as of some other peoplebefore her time and since) that whenever her original pro-position was questioned, she exaggerated it.
`Dear me!' said Mr. Lorry, as the safest remark he couldthink of. #p#副标题#e#Dress was the one unfailing talisman and charm used forkeeping all things in their places. Everybody was dressed fora Fancy Ball that was never to leave off. From the Palace ofthe Tuileries, through Monseigneur and the whole Court,through the Chambers, the Tribunals of Justice, and allsociety (except the scarecrows), the Fancy Ball descended tothe common Executioner: who, in pursuance of the charm, wasrequired to officiate `frizzled, powdered, in a gold-lacedcoat, pumps, and white silk stockings.' At the gallows and thewheel--the axe was a rarity--Monsieur Paris, as it was theepiscopal mode among his brother Professors of the provinces,Monsieur Orleans, and the rest, to call him, presided in thisdainty dress. And who among the company at Monseigneur'sreception in that seventeen hundred and eightieth year of ourLord, could possibly doubt, that a system rooted in a frizzledhangman, powdered, gold-laced, pumped, and white-silkstockinged, would see the very stars out!
Monseigneur having eased his four men of their burdens andtaken his chocolate, caused the doors of the Holiest ofHoliests to be thrown open, and issued forth. Then, whatsubmission, what cringing and fawning, what servility, whatabject humiliation! As to bowing down in body and spirit,nothing in that way was left for Heaven--which may have beenone among other reasons why the worshippers of Monseigneurnever troubled it.
Bestowing a word of promise here and a smile there, a whisperon one happy slave and a wave of the hand on another,Monseigneur affably passed through his rooms to the remoteregion of the Circumference of Truth. There, Monseigneurturned, and came back again, and so in due course of time gothimself shut up in his sanctuary by the chocolate sprites, andwas seen no more.
The show being over, the flutter in the air became quite alittle storm, and the precious little bells went ringing down-stairs. There was soon but one person left of all the crowd,and he, with his hat under his arm and his snuff-box in hishand, slowly passed among the mirrors on his way out.
`I devote you,' said this person, stopping at the last dooron his way, and turning in the direction of the sanctuary, `tothe Devil!'
With that, he shook the snuff from his fingers as if he hadshaken the dust from his feet, and quietly walked down stairs.
He was a man of about sixty, handsomely dressed, haughty inmanner, and with a face like a fine mask. A face of atransparent paleness; every feature in it clearly defined; oneset expression on it. The nose: beautifully formed otherwise,was very slightly pinched at the top of each nostril. In thosetwo compressions, or dints, the only little change that theface ever showed, resided. They persisted in changing colourcome-times, and they would be occasionally dilated andcontracted by something like a faint pulsation; then, they #p#副标题#e#gave a look of treachery, and cruelty, to the wholecountenance. Examined with attention, its capacity of helpingsuch a look was to be found in the line of the mouth, and thelines of the orbits of the eyes, being much too horizontal andthin; still, in the effect the face made, it was a handsomeface, and a remarkable one.
Its owner went down stairs into the court-yard, got into hiscarriage, and drove away. Not many people had talked with himat the reception; he had stood in a little space apart, andMonseigneur might have been warmer in his manner. It appeared,under the circumstances, rather agreeable to him to see thecommon people dispersed before his horses, and often barelyescaping from being run down. His man drove as if he werecharging an enemy, and the furious recklessness of the manbrought no check into the face, or to the lips, of the master.
The complaint had sometimes made itself audible, even in thatdeaf city and dumb age, that, in the narrow streets withoutfootways, the fierce patrician custom of hard drivingendangered and maimed the mere vulgar in a barbarous manner.
But, few cared enough for that to think of it a second time,and, in this matter, as in all others, the common wretcheswere left to get out of their difficulties as they could.
With a wild rattle and clatter, and an inhuman abandonment ofconsideration not easy to be understood in these days, thecarriage dashed through streets and swept round corners, withwomen screaming before it, and men clutching each other andclutching children out of its way. At last, swooping at astreet corner by a fountain, one of its wheels came to asickening little jolt, and there was a loud cry from a numberof voices, and the horses reared and plunged.
But for the latter inconvenience, the carriage probably wouldnot have stopped; carriages were often known to drive on, andleave their wounded behind, and why not? But the frightenedvalet had got down in a hurry, and there were twenty hands atthe horses' bridles.
`What has gone wrong?' said Monsieur, calmly looking out.
A tall man in a nightcap had caught up a bundle from amongthe feet of the horses, and had laid it on the basement of thefountain, and was down in the mud and wet, howling over itlike a wild animal. #p#副标题#e#`Pardon, Monsieur the Marquis!' said a ragged and submissiveman, `it is a child.'
`Why does he make that abominable noise? Is it his child?'
`Excuse me, Monsieur the Marquis--it is a pity--yes.'
The fountain was a little removed; for the street opened,where it was, into a space some ten or twelve yards square. Asthe tall man suddenly got up from the ground, and came runningat the carriage, Monsieur the Marquis clapped his hand for aninstant on his sword-hilt.'
`Killed!' shrieked the man, in wild desperation, extendingboth arms at their length above his head, and staring at him.
`Dead!'
The people closed round, and looked at Monsieur the Marquis.
There was nothing revealed by the many eyes that looked at himbut watchfulness and eagerness; there was no visible menacingor anger. Neither did the people say anything; after the firstcry, they had been silent, and they remained so. The voice ofthe submissive man who had spoken, was flat and tame in itsextreme submission. Monsieur the Marquis ran his eyes overthem all, as if they had been mere rats come out of theirholes.
He took out his purse.
`It is extraordinary to me,' said he, `that you people cannottake care of yourselves and your children. One or the other ofyou is for ever in the way. How do I know what injury you havedone my horses? See! Give him that.'
He threw out a gold coin for the valet to pick up, and allthe heads craned forward that all the eyes might look down atit as it fell. The tall man called out again with a mostunearthly cry, `Dead!'
He was arrested by the quick arrival of another man, for whomthe rest made way. On seeing him, the miserable creature fellupon his shoulder, sobbing and crying, and pointing to thefountain, where some women were stooping over the motionlessbundle, and moving gently about it. They were as silent,however, as the men.
`I know all, I know all,' said the last comer. `Be a braveman, my Gaspard! It is better for the poor little plaything todie so, than to live. It has died in a moment without pain.
Could it have lived an hour as happily?'
`You are a philosopher, you there,' said the Marquis,smiling. `How do they call you?'
`They call me Defarge.'
`Of what trade?'
`Monsieur the Marquis, vendor of wine.'
`Pick up that, philosopher and vendor of wine,' said theMarquis, throwing him another gold coin, `and spend it as youwill. The horses there; are they right?
Without deigning to look at the assemblage a second time,Monsieur the Marquis leaned back in his seat, and was justbeing driven away with the air of a gentleman who hadaccidentally broken some common thing, and had paid for it,and could afford to pay for it; when his ease was suddenlydisturbed by a coin flying into his carriage, and ringing onits floor.
`Hold!' said Monsieur the Marquis. `Hold the horses! Whothrew that?'
He looked to the spot where Defarge the vendor of wine hadstood, a moment before; but the wretched father was grovellingon his face on the pavement in that spot, and the figure thatstood beside him was the figure of a dark stout woman,knitting.
`You dogs!' said the Marquis, but smoothly, and with anunchanged front, except as to the spots on his nose: `I wouldride over any of you very willingly, and exterminate you fromthe earth. If I knew which rascal threw at the carriage, andif that brigand were sufficiently near it, he should becrushed under the wheels.'
So cowed was their condition, and so long and hard theirexperience of what such a man could do to them, within the lawand beyond it, that not a voice, or a hand, or even an eye wasraised. Among the men, not one. But the woman who stoodknitting looked up steadily, and looked the Marquis in theface. It was not for his dignity to notice it; hiscontemptuous eyes passed over her, and over all the otherrats; and he leaned back in his seat again, and gave the word`Go on!'
He was driven on, and other carriages came whirling by inquick succession; the Minister, the State-Projector, theFarmer-General, the Doctor, the Lawyer, the Ecclesiastic, theGrand Opera, the Comedy, the whole Fancy Ball in a brightcontinuous flow, came whirling by. The rats had crept out oftheir holes to look on, and they remained looking on forhours; soldiers and police often passing between them and thespectacle, and making a barrier behind which they slunk, andthrough which they peeped. The father had long ago taken uphis bundle and hidden himself away with it, when the women whohad tended the bundle while it lay on the base of thefountain, sat there watching the running of the water and therolling of the Fancy Ball--when the one woman who had stoodconspicuous, knitting, still knitted on with the steadfastnessof Fate. The water of the fountain ran, the swift river ran,the day ran into evening, so much life in the city ran intodeath according to rule, time and tide waited for no man, therats were sleeping close together in their dark holes again,the Fancy Ball was lighted up at supper, all things ran theircourse. |