CONTAINING FURTHER PARTICULARS CONCERNING THE PLEASANT OLD GENTLEMAN, AND HIS HOPEFUL PUPILS
It was late next morning when Oliver awoke, from a sound, long sleep. There was no other person in the room but the old Jew, who was boiling some coffee in a saucepan for breakfast, and whistling softly to himself as he stirred it round and round, with an iron spoon. He would stop every now and then to listen when there was the least noise below: and when he had satistified himself, he would go on whistling and stirring again, as before.
Although Oliver had roused himself from sleep, he was not thoroughly awake. There is a drowsy state, between sleeping and waking, when you dream more in five minutes with your eyes half open, and yourself half conscious of everything that is passing around you, than you would in five nights with your eyes fast closed, and your senses wrapt in perfect unconsciousness. At such time, a mortal knows just enough of what his mind is doing, to form some glimmering conception of its mighty powers, its bounding from earth and spurning time and space, when freed from the restraint of its corporeal associate.
Oliver was precisely in this condition. He saw the Jew with his half-closed eyes; heard his low whistling; and recognised the sound of the spoon grating against the saucepan's sides: and yet the self-same senses were mentally engaged, at the same time, in busy action with almost everybody he had ever known.
When the coffee was done, the Jew drew the saucepan to the hob. Standing, then in an irresolute attitude for a few minutes, as if he did not well know how to employ himself, he turned round and looked at Oliver, and called him by his name. He did not answer, and was to all appearances asleep.
After satisfying himself upon this head, the Jew stepped gently to the door: which he fastened. He then drew forth: as it seemed to Oliver, from some trap in the floor: a small box, which he placed carefully on the table. His eyes glistened as he raised the lid, and looked in. Dragging an old chair to the table, he sat down; and took from it a magnificent gold watch, sparkling with jewels.
'Aha!' said the Jew, shrugging up his shoulders, and distorting every feature with a hideous grin. 'Clever dogs! Clever dogs! Staunch to the last! Never told the old parson where they were. Never poached upon old Fagin! And why should they? It wouldn't have loosened the knot, or kept the drop up, a minute longer. No, no, no! Fine fellows! Fine fellows!'
With these, and other muttered reflections of the like nature, the Jew once more deposited the watch in its place of safety. At least half a dozen more were severally drawn forth from the same box, and surveyed with equal pleasure; besides rings, brooches, bracelets, and other articles of jewellery, of such magnificent materials, and costly workmanship, that Oliver had no idea, even of their names.
Having replaced these trinkets, the Jew took out another: so small that it lay in the palm of his hand. There seemed to be some very minute inscription on it; for the Jew laid it flat upon the table, and shading it with his hand, pored over it, long and earnestly. At length he put it down, as if despairing of success; and, leaning back in his chair, muttered:
'What a fine thing capital punishment is! Dead men never repent; dead men never bring awkward stories to light. Ah, it's a fine thing for the trade! Five of 'em strung up in a row, and none left to play booty, or turn white-livered!'
As the Jew uttered these words, his bright dark eyes, which had been staring vacantly before him, fell on Oliver's face; the boy's eyes were fixed on his in mute curiousity; and although the recognition was only for an instant--for the briefest space of time that can possibly be conceived--it was enough to show the old man that he had been observed.
He closed the lid of the box with a loud crash; and, laying his hand on a bread knife which was on the table, started furiously up. He trembled very much though; for, even in his terror, Oliver could see that the knife quivered in the air.
'What's that?' said the Jew. 'What do you watch me for? Why are you awake? What have you seen? Speak out, boy! Quick--quick! for your life.
'I wasn't able to sleep any longer, sir,' replied Oliver, meekly. 'I am very sorry if I have disturbed you, sir.'
'You were not awake an hour ago?' said the Jew, scowling fiercely on the boy.
'No! No, indeed!' replied Oliver.
'Are you sure?' cried the Jew: with a still fiercer look than before: and a threatening attitude.
'Upon my word I was not, sir,' replied Oliver, earnestly. 'I was not, indeed, sir.'
'Tush, tush, my dear!' said the Jew, abruptly resuming his old manner, and playing with the knife a little, before he laid it down; as if to induce the belief that he had caught it up, in mere sport. 'Of course I know that, my dear. I only tried to frighten you. You're a brave boy. Ha! ha! you're a brave boy, Oliver.' The Jew rubbed his hands with a chuckle, but glanced uneasily at the box, notwithstanding.
'Did you see any of these pretty things, my dear?' said the Jew, laying his hand upon it after a short pause.
'Yes, sir,' replied Oliver.
'Ah!' said the Jew, turning rather pale. 'They--they're mine, Oliver; my little property. All I have to live upon, in my old age. The folks call me a miser, my dear. Only a miser; that's all.'
Oliver thought the old gentleman must be a decided miser to live in such a dirty place, with so many watches; but, thinking that perhaps his fondness for the Dodger and the other boys, cost him a good deal of money, he only cast a deferential look at the Jew, and asked if he might get up.
'Certainly, my dear, certainly,' replied the old gentleman. 'Stay. There's a pitcher of water in the corner by the door. Bring it here; and I'll give you a basin to wash in, my dear.'
Oliver got up; walked across the room; and stooped for an instant to raise the pitcher. When he turned his head, the box was gone.
He had scarcely washed himself, and made everything tidy, by emptying the basin out of the window, agreeably to the Jew's directions, when the Dodger returned: accompanied by a very sprightly young friend, whom Oliver had seen smoking on the previous night, and who was now formally introduced to him as Charley Bates. The four sat down, to breakfast, on the coffee, and some hot rolls and ham which the Dodger had brought home in the crown of his hat.
'Well,' said the Jew, glancing slyly at Oliver, and addressing himself to the Dodger, 'I hope you've been at work this morning, my dears?'
'Hard,' replied the Dodger.
'As nails,' added Charley Bates.
'Good boys, good boys!' said the Jew. 'What have you got, Dodger?'
'A couple of pocket-books,' replied that young gentlman.
'Lined?' inquired the Jew, with eagerness.
'Pretty well,' replied the Dodger, producing two pocket-books; one green, and the other red.
'Not so heavy as they might be,' said the Jew, after looking at the insides carefully; 'but very neat and nicely made. Ingenious workman, ain't he, Oliver?'
'Very indeed, sir,' said Oliver. At which Mr. Charles Bates laughed uproariously; very much to the amazement of Oliver, who saw nothing to laugh at, in anything that had passed.
'And what have you got, my dear?' said Fagin to Charley Bates.
'Wipes,' replied Master Bates; at the same time producing four pocket-handkerchiefs.
'Well,' said the Jew, inspecting them closely; 'they're very good ones, very. You haven't marked them well, though, Charley; so the marks shall be picked out with a needle, and we'll teach Oliver how to do it. Shall us, Oliver, eh? Ha! ha! ha!'
'If you please, sir,' said Oliver.
'You'd like to be able to make pocket-handkerchiefs as easy as Charley Bates, wouldn't you, my dear?' said the Jew.
'Very much, indeed, if you'll teach me, sir,' replied Oliver.
Master Bates saw something so exquisitely ludicrous in this reply, that he burst into another laugh; which laugh, meeting the coffee he was drinking, and carrying it down some wrong channel, very nearly terminated in his premature suffocation.
'He is so jolly green!' said Charley when he recovered, as an apology to the company for his unpolite behaviour.
The Dodger said nothing, but he smoothed Oliver's hair over his eyes, and said he'd know better, by and by; upon which the old gentleman, observing Oliver's colour mounting, changed the subject by asking whether there had been much of a crowd at the execution that morning? This made him wonder more and more; for it was plain from the replies of the two boys that they had both been there; and Oliver naturally wondered how they could possibly have found time to be so very industrious.
When the breakfast was cleared away; the merry old gentlman and the two boys played at a very curious and uncommon game, which was performed in this way. The merry old gentleman, placing a snuff-box in one pocket of his trousers, a note-case in the other, and a watch in his waistcoat pocket, with a guard-chain round his neck, and sticking a mock diamond pin in his shirt: buttoned his coat tight round him, and putting his spectacle-case and handkerchief in his pockets, trotted up and down the room with a stick, in imitation of the manner in which old gentlemen walk about the streets any hour in the day. Sometimes he stopped at the fire-place, and sometimes at the door, making believe that he was staring with all his might into shop-windows. At such times, he would look constantly round him, for fear of thieves, and would keep slapping all his pockets in turn, to see that he hadn't lost anything, in such a very funny and natural manner, that Oliver laughed till the tears ran down his face. All this time, the two boys followed him closely about: getting out of his sight, so nimbly, every time he turned round, that it was impossible to follow their motions. At last, the Dodger trod upon his toes, or ran upon his boot accidently, while Charley Bates stumbled up against him behind; and in that one moment they took from him, with the most extraordinary rapidity, snuff-box, note-case, watch-guard, chain, shirt-pin, pocket-handkerchief, even the spectacle-case. If the old gentlman felt a hand in any one of his pockets, he cried out where it was; and then the game began all over again.
When this game had been played a great many times, a couple of young ladies called to see the young gentleman; one of whom was named Bet, and the other Nancy. They wore a good deal of hair, not very neatly turned up behind, and were rather untidy about the shoes and stockings. They were not exactly pretty, perhaps; but they had a great deal of colour in their faces, and looked quite stout and hearty. Being remarkably free and agreeable in their manners, Oliver thought them very nice girls indeed. As there is no doubt they were.
The visitors stopped a long time. Spirits were produced, in consequence of one of the young ladies complaining of a coldness in her inside; and the conversation took a very convivial and improving turn. At length, Charley Bates expressed his opinion that it was time to pad the hoof. This, it occurred to Oliver, must be French for going out; for directly afterwards, the Dodger, and Charley, and the two young ladies, went away together, having been kindly furnished by the amiable old Jew with money to spend.
'There, my dear,' said Fagin. 'That's a pleasant life, isn't it? They have gone out for the day.'
'Have they done work, sir?' inquired Oliver.
'Yes,' said the Jew; 'that is, unless they should unexpectedly come across any, when they are out; and they won't neglect it, if they do, my dear, depend upon it. Make 'em your models, my dear. Make 'em your models,' tapping the fire-shovel on the hearth to add force to his words; 'do everything they bid you, and take their advice in all matters--especially the Dodger's, my dear. He'll be a great man himself, and will make you one too, if you take pattern by him.--Is my handkerchief hanging out of my pocket, my dear?' said the Jew, stopping short.
'Yes, sir,' said Oliver.
'See if you can take it out, without my feeling it; as you saw them do, when we were at play this morning.'
Oliver held up the bottom of the pocket with one hand, as he had seen the Dodger hold it, and drew the handkerchief lightly out of it with the other.
'Is it gone?' cried the Jew.
'Here it is, sir,' said Oliver, showing it in his hand.
'You're a clever boy, my dear,' said the playful old gentleman, patting Oliver on the head approvingly. 'I never saw a sharper lad. Here's a shilling for you. If you go on, in this way, you'll be the greatest man of the time. And now come here, and I'll show you how to take the marks out of the handkerchiefs.'
Oliver wondered what picking the old gentleman's pocket in play, had to do with his chances of being a great man. But, thinking that the Jew, being so much his senior, must know best, he followed him quietly to the table, and was soon deeply involved in his new study.
第二天上午，奥立弗从酣然沉睡中醒来，天已经不早了。屋子里没有别的人，犹太老头正在用一口耳锅煮早餐的咖啡。他匀匀缓缓地用铁匙搅动着咖啡，一边悠闲地打着口哨。时不时地，只要楼下有响动，他便要停下来听一听，直待放心了，才又继续在口哨的伴奏下，像刚才一样搅拌咖啡。
奥立弗已经醒了，却还没有完全清醒过来。一般说来，在沉睡和清醒中间存在着一种困盹恍惚的状态，眼睛半睁半闭，对周围发生的事情似醒非醒，在短短五分钟里梦见的东西比起五个晚上紧闭双眼，对一切浑然不觉中所梦见的还要多。在这种时候，人对于自己的内心活动理应十分明了，并且对于它的巨大威力形成某种模糊的意识，它一旦从肉体躯壳的桎桔中挣脱出来便可以超脱尘世，不受时间、空间的限制。
奥立弗恰好处于这么一种状态。他睡眼朦胧地望着费金，听他低声吹着口哨，连汤匙碰撞锅边的响声都能辨别。与此同时，在他的内心，同样的感觉却与他认识的几乎每一个人都产生了无数的联想。
咖啡煮好了，费金把锅放到炉台上，站在那里，犹豫了一会儿，像是不知如何是好的样子。接着他转过身来望着奥立弗，叫了几声他的名字，他没有回答，叫谁看了都会以为他还在睡觉。
费金心里踏实了，他轻手轻脚地走到门边，把门锁上。接着，奥立弗感觉他好像是从地板上某个暗处抽出一个小盒子，小心翼翼地放在桌上。他打开盒盖，朝里边看去，眼睛里闪出了光彩。他把一张旧椅子扯到桌前，坐下来，从盒子里取出一只贵重的金表，上边的珠宝钻石亮光闪闪。
“啊哈。”费金耸了耸肩，令人恶心地咧着嘴笑起来，把脸整个扭歪了。
“好聪明的小狗。好聪明的小狗。还真撑到底了。没有告诉牧师东西在哪儿。也没告发老费金。他们干吗要供出来？那样做绞索不会松开，也不会晚一分钟拉上去。不，不，不。好家伙。好家伙。”
费金这样那样叽哩咕噜地念叨着，骨子里说的都是一回事，他重新把表放回原处，又接连从盒子里拿出至少半打别的东西，以同样的兴趣观赏着，除了戒指、胸针、手镯，还有几样珠宝首饰质地考究，做工精细，奥立弗连名字也叫不出来。
费金把这些小首饰收起来，又取出一个小得可以握在掌心之中的东西。那上边似乎刻了一些蝇头小字，费金把那个东西平放在桌子上，用手挡住亮光，专心致志看了老半天。他似乎终究没看出什么，只好放下，身子往椅子上一靠，喃喃地说：
“死刑真是件妙不可言的事儿。死人绝不会忏悔，死人也绝不会把可怕的事情公之于世的。啊，对于我们这一行也有好处。五个家伙挂成一串，都给绞死了，没有一个会留下来做线人，或者变成胆小鬼。”
费金絮絮叨叨地说着，又黑又亮的眼睛原本一直出神地望着前边，这时却落到了奥立弗脸上，那孩子睁着一双好奇的眼睛，正默默地盯着他。尽管目光的交汇只是一瞬间的事――也许是想像得到的最短促的一瞬间吧――老头儿却已经意识到，有人注意到了自己。他啪地关上盒子，一手拿起桌上的一把切面包的刀，狂暴地跳了起来。他一个劲地打着哆嗦，连吓得要命的奥立弗都看得出那把刀在空中晃悠。
“怎么啦？”费金说道，“你干吗监视我？你怎么醒了？你看见什么了？说出来，小子。快――快！当心小命！”
“先生，我再也睡不着了，”奥立弗柔顺地回答，“如果我打搅了您的话，我感到非常抱歉，先生。”
“一个钟头以前，你没醒过来吧？”费金恶狠狠地瞪了孩子一眼。
“我还没醒。没有，真的。”奥立弗回答。
“你说的是真话？”费金的样子变得更狰狞了，杀气腾腾地叫道。
“先生，我发誓，”奥立弗一本正经地答道，“没有，先生，真的没醒。”
“啐，啐，我亲爱的。”费金骤然恢复了常态，把切刀拿在手里晃了几下，放回桌子上，似乎想借此表明他拿起刀来不过是玩玩。“亲爱的，我当然有数罗，我只是想吓唬吓唬你。你胆子不小，哈哈！胆子不小啊，奥立弗。”犹太人嘻嘻一笑，搓了搓手，眼睛却依然不很放心地朝那只盒子看了一眼。
“亲爱的，你看到这些个宝贝了？”费金踌躇了一下，手放在盒子上，问道。
“先生，是的。”
“啊。”费金脸上白了一大片，“它们――它们都是我的，奥立弗，是我的一丁点财产。我上了岁数，全得靠它们哩。大家伙管我叫守财奴，我亲爱的――不就是个守财奴吗，就这么回事。”
奥立弗心想，这位老绅士准是一个不折不扣的吝啬鬼，他有那么多金表，倒住在这么脏的地方。他又一想，老头对机灵鬼和另外几个孩子挺喜欢，兴许花了不少钱，但他只是恭恭敬敬地望了犹太人一眼，问自己是不是可以起来。
“当然，我亲爱的，当然可以，”老绅士回答，“等一等，门边角落里有一壶水，你带过来，我给你弄个盆，你洗洗脸，亲爱的。”
奥立弗爬起来，走到房间另一头，略一弯腰，把壶提了起来，当他回过头去的时候，盒子已经不见了。
他刚洗完脸，又照着费金的意思，把盆里的水泼到窗户外边，把一切收拾停当，机灵鬼和另一个精神焕发的小伙伴一块儿回来了，昨天晚上奥立弗看见他抽烟来着，现经正式介绍，才知道他叫查理贝兹。四个人坐下来共进早餐，桌子上有咖啡，机灵鬼用帽顶盛着带回来一些热腾腾的面包卷和香肠。
“嗯，”费金暗暗用眼睛盯住奥立弗，跟机灵鬼聊了起来，“亲爱的孩子们，今儿早上你们恐怕都在干活，是吗？”
“可卖力了。”机灵鬼回答。
“整个豁出去了。”查理贝兹添了一句。
“好小子，好小子。”老犹太说，“你弄到了什么，机灵鬼？”
“俩皮夹子。”小绅士答道。
“有搞头吗？”老犹太急不可耐地问。
“还不赖。”机灵鬼说着，掏出两只钱包，一只绿的，一只红的。
“好像不该这么轻，”费金仔仔细细地点了一下里边的东西，说道，“做得倒真漂亮利索。他可真是把好手，不是吗，奥立弗？”
“先生，是这样，真机灵。”奥立弗说道，查理贝兹先生一听这话立刻放声大笑，弄得奥立弗莫名其妙，他看不出眼前发生的事有什么好笑的。
“你弄到什么了，亲爱的？”费金冲着查理贝兹说道。
“抹嘴儿。”贝兹少爷一边说，一边掏出四条小手绢。
“好，”费金仔细地查看着手绢，“还都是上等货色，很好，不过，查理，你没把标记做好，你得用一根针把标记挑掉。我们来教教奥立弗。好不好，奥立弗，呢？哈哈哈！”
“先生，如果你愿意的话。”奥立弗说。
“你也希望做起手绢来跟查理贝兹一样得心应手，是不是啊，亲爱的？”费金说道。
“先生，”奥立弗答道，“我真的非常想学，只要你肯教我。”
贝兹先生觉得这一句答话中含有某种妙不可言的滑稽意味，不禁又噗哧一声笑起来，这一阵笑声正好碰上他刚喝下去的咖啡，咖啡立刻走岔了道，差一点没把他呛死。
“他真是嫩得可笑。”查理缓过劲来以后说，为自己举止失礼向在场的各位表示歉意。
机灵鬼没有答茬，他替奥立弗把额前的头发扒下来，遮住眼睛，说他要不了多久就会懂得多一些了。快活的老绅士发现奥立弗脸红了，便改变话题，问今天早晨刑场上看热闹的人多不多？听那两个少年的答话，两人显然都在那儿，他们怎么有时间干那么多的活，奥立弗自然对此感到纳闷。
吃过早餐，快活老绅士和那两个少年玩了一个十分有趣而又极不寻常的游戏，过程是这样的：快活老绅士在一个裤兜里放上一只鼻烟盒，在另一个里边放了一只皮夹子，背心口袋里揣上一块表，表链套在自己脖子上，还在衬衫上别了一根仿钻石别针。他将外套扣得严严实实，把眼镜盒子以及手巾插在外套口袋里，握着一根手杖，在屋子里走来走去，模仿一班老先生平日里在街上四处溜达时的那副派头，时而在壁炉边上停一停，时而又在门口站一站，看上去谁都会以为他正全神贯注地在看商店的橱窗。每隔一会儿，他便朝前后左右看看，提防着小偷，依次把每个口袋都拍一拍，看自己是不是丢了东西，那神气非常可笑也非常逼真，奥立弗一直笑啊，笑得泪水顺着脸颊滚了下来。在这段时间里，两个少年紧紧尾随在他身后，动作敏捷地避开他的视线，他每次回过头来都不可能觉察到他俩的举动。终于，机灵鬼踩了老绅士一脚，或者说偶然踢了一下他的靴子，查理贝兹从后边撞了他一下，在这一刹那，他俩以异乎寻常的灵巧取走了他的鼻烟盒、皮夹子、带链子的挂表、别针、手巾，连眼镜盒也没落下。倘若老绅士发觉任何一个口袋里伸进来一只手的话，他就报出是在哪一个口袋，游戏又从头来过。
这套游戏翻来覆去做了无数次，这时，有两位小姐前来看望小绅士们，其中一个叫蓓特，一个叫南希。她们都长着浓密的头发，乱蓬蓬地挽在脑后，鞋袜也颇不整洁。她俩或许并不特别漂亮，可脸上红扑扑的，显得非常丰满、健康。两位姑娘举止洒脱大方，奥立弗觉得她们的确算得上非常出色的姑娘了，这一点倒是毋容置疑的。
两位来客逗留了好一会儿，有一个姑娘抱怨说，她身体里边冷得慌，酒立刻端了出来，谈话转而变得十分欢乐，富有教益。最后，查理贝兹提出，该去遛遛蹄子了。奥立弗猜出这肯定是法语“出去逛一会”的意思，因为紧接着，机灵鬼和查理便与两位女郎一块儿出去了，那位和蔼的老犹太人还体贴地给了他们零花钱。
“嗳，亲爱的，”费金说道，“这日子可真舒坦，不是吗？他们要到外边去逛一天呢。”
“他们干完活儿了没有，先生？”奥立弗问。
“对呀，”费金说，“是那么回事，除非他们在外边碰巧找到什么活了。他们才不会白白放过呢，亲爱的，你放心好了。跟他们学着点儿，你得学几招，”他用煤铲在炉子边上敲打着，为的是增加话的分量。“他们要你做什么你就做什么，所有的事都要听他们的指点――尤其是机灵鬼，我的宝贝儿。往后他自个儿会成为一个大人物的，只要你学他的样，他也会让你成为大人物的――亲爱的，我的手绢是在口袋外边吗？”费金说着骤然停了下来。
“是的，先生。”
“看看你能不能把手绢掏出来，又不被我发现，就像今天早晨做游戏时他们那个样子。”
奥立佛用一只手捏住那只衣袋的底部，他看见机灵鬼就是这样做的，另一只手轻轻地把手帕抽了出来。
“好了没？”费金嚷道。
“喏，先生。”奥立弗说着，亮了一下手帕。
“你真是个聪明的孩子，亲爱的，”快活的老绅士赞许地在奥立弗头上拍了拍。“我还没见过这么伶俐的小家伙呢。这个先令你拿去花吧。只要你照这样干下去，就会成为这个时代最了不起的人了。上这边来，我教你怎么弄掉手帕上的标记。”
奥立弗弄不懂了，做做游戏，扒这位老绅士的衣袋，为何将来就有机会成为大人物。不过，他又一想，老犹太年纪比自己大得多，肯定什么都懂，便温驯地跟着他走到桌子跟前，不多一会儿就专心致志地投身于新的学业之中了。
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