Paul's Further Progress, Growth and Character
Beneath the watching and attentive1 eyes of Time - so far another Major - Paul's slumbers3 gradually changed. More and more light broke in upon them; distincter and distincter dreams disturbed them; an accumulating crowd of objects and impressions swarmed4 about his rest; and so he passed from babyhood to childhood, and became a talking, walking, wondering Dombey.
On the downfall and banishment5 of Richards, the nursery may be said to have been put into commission: as a Public Department is sometimes, when no individual Atlas6 can be found to support it The Commissioners7 were, of course, Mrs Chick and Miss Tox: who devoted8 themselves to their duties with such astonishing ardour that Major Bagstock had every day some new reminder9 of his being forsaken10, while Mr Chick, bereft11 of domestic supervision12, cast himself upon the gay world, dined at clubs and coffee-houses, smelt13 of smoke on three different occasions, went to the play by himself, and in short, loosened (as Mrs Chick once told him) every social bond, and moral obligation.
Yet, in spite of his early promise, all this vigilance and care could not make little Paul a thriving boy. Naturally delicate, perhaps, he pined and wasted after the dismissal of his nurse, and, for a long time, seemed but to wait his opportunity of gliding14 through their hands, and seeking his lost mother. This dangerous ground in his steeple-chase towards manhood passed, he still found it very rough riding, and was grievously beset15 by all the obstacles in his course. Every tooth was a break-neck fence, and every pimple16 in the measles17 a stone wall to him. He was down in every fit of the hooping-cough, and rolled upon and crushed by a whole field of small diseases, that came trooping on each other's heels to prevent his getting up again. Some bird of prey18 got into his throat instead of the thrush; and the very chickens turning ferocious19 - if they have anything to do with that infant malady20 to which they lend their name - worried him like tiger-cats.
The chill of Paul's christening had struck home, perhaps to some sensitive part of his nature, which could not recover itself in the cold shade of his father; but he was an unfortunate child from that day. Mrs Wickam often said she never see a dear so put upon.
Mrs Wickam was a waiter's wife - which would seem equivalent to being any other man's widow - whose application for an engagement in Mr Dombey's service had been favourably21 considered, on account of the apparent impossibility of her having any followers22, or anyone to follow; and who, from within a day or two of Paul's sharp weaning, had been engaged as his nurse. Mrs Wickam was a meek23 woman, of a fair complexion24, with her eyebrows25 always elevated, and her head always drooping26; who was always ready to pity herself, or to be pitied, or to pity anybody else; and who had a surprising natural gift of viewing all subjects in an utterly27 forlorn and pitiable light, and bringing dreadful precedents28 to bear upon them, and deriving29 the greatest consolation30 from the exercise of that talent.
It is hardly necessary to observe, that no touch of this quality ever reached the magnificent knowledge of Mr Dombey. It would have been remarkable31, indeed, if any had; when no one in the house - not even Mrs Chick or Miss Tox - dared ever whisper to him that there had, on any one occasion, been the least reason for uneasiness in reference to little Paul. He had settled, within himself, that the child must necessarily pass through a certain routine of minor32 maladies, and that the sooner he did so the better. If he could have bought him off, or provided a substitute, as in the case of an unlucky drawing for the militia33, he would have been glad to do so, on liberal terms. But as this was not feasible, he merely wondered, in his haughty-manner, now and then, what Nature meant by it; and comforted himself with the reflection that there was another milestone34 passed upon the road, and that the great end of the journey lay so much the nearer. For the feeling uppermost in his mind, now and constantly intensifying35, and increasing in it as Paul grew older, was impatience36. Impatience for the time to come, when his visions of their united consequence and grandeur37 would be triumphantly38 realized.
Some philosophers tell us that selfishness is at the root of our best loves and affections.' Mr Dombey's young child was, from the beginning, so distinctly important to him as a part of his own greatness, or (which is the same thing) of the greatness of Dombey and Son, that there is no doubt his parental39 affection might have been easily traced, like many a goodly superstructure of fair fame, to a very low foundation. But he loved his son with all the love he had. If there were a warm place in his frosty heart, his son occupied it; if its very hard surface could receive the impression of any image, the image of that son was there; though not so much as an infant, or as a boy, but as a grown man - the 'Son' of the Firm. Therefore he was impatient to advance into the future, and to hurry over the intervening passages of his history. Therefore he had little or no anxiety' about them, in spite of his love; feeling as if the boy had a charmed life, and must become the man with whom he held such constant communication in his thoughts, and for whom he planned and projected, as for an existing reality, every day.
Thus Paul grew to be nearly five years old. He was a pretty little fellow; though there was something wan41 and wistful in his small face, that gave occasion to many significant shakes of Mrs Wickam's head, and many long-drawn inspirations of Mrs Wickam's breath. His temper gave abundant promise of being imperious in after-life; and he had as hopeful an apprehension42 of his own importance, and the rightful subservience43 of all other things and persons to it, as heart could desire. He was childish and sportive enough at times, and not of a sullen44 disposition45; but he had a strange, old-fashioned, thoughtful way, at other times, of sitting brooding in his miniature arm-chair, when he looked (and talked) like one of those terrible little Beings in the Fairy tales, who, at a hundred and fifty or two hundred years of age, fantastically represent the children for whom they have been substituted. He would frequently be stricken with this precocious46 mood upstairs in the nursery; and would sometimes lapse47 into it suddenly, exclaiming that he was tired: even while playing with Florence, or driving Miss Tox in single harness. But at no time did he fall into it so surely, as when, his little chair being carried down into his father's room, he sat there with him after dinner, by the fire. They were the strangest pair at such a time that ever firelight shone upon. Mr Dombey so erect48 and solemn, gazing at the blare; his little image, with an old, old face, peering into the red perspective with the fixed49 and rapt attention of a sage40. Mr Dombey entertaining complicated worldly schemes and plans; the little image entertaining Heaven knows what wild fancies, half-formed thoughts, and wandering speculations51. Mr Dombey stiff with starch52 and arrogance53; the little image by inheritance, and in unconscious imitation. The two so very much alike, and yet so monstrously54 contrasted.
On one of these occasions, when they had both been perfectly55 quiet for a long time, and Mr Dombey only knew that the child was awake by occasionally glancing at his eye, where the bright fire was sparkling like a jewel, little Paul broke silence thus:
'Papa! what's money?'
The abrupt56 question had such immediate57 reference to the subject of Mr Dombey's thoughts, that Mr Dombey was quite disconcerted.
'What is money, Paul?' he answered. 'Money?'
'Yes,' said the child, laying his hands upon the elbows of his little chair, and turning the old face up towards Mr Dombey's; 'what is money?'
Mr Dombey was in a difficulty. He would have liked to give him some explanation involving the terms circulating-medium, currency, depreciation58 of currency', paper, bullion59, rates of exchange, value of precious metals in the market, and so forth60; but looking down at the little chair, and seeing what a long way down it was, he answered: 'Gold, and silver, and copper61. Guineas, shillings, half-pence. You know what they are?'
'Oh yes, I know what they are,' said Paul. 'I don't mean that, Papa. I mean what's money after all?'
Heaven and Earth, how old his face was as he turned it up again towards his father's!
'What is money after all!' said Mr Dombey, backing his chair a little, that he might the better gaze in sheer amazement62 at the presumptuous63 atom that propounded64 such an inquiry65.
'I mean, Papa, what can it do?' returned Paul, folding his arms (they were hardly long enough to fold), and looking at the fire, and up at him, and at the fire, and up at him again.
Mr Dombey drew his chair back to its former place, and patted him on the head. 'You'll know better by-and-by, my man,' he said. 'Money, Paul, can do anything.' He took hold of the little hand, and beat it softly against one of his own, as he said so.
But Paul got his hand free as soon as he could; and rubbing it gently to and fro on the elbow of his chair, as if his wit were in the palm, and he were sharpening it - and looking at the fire again, as though the fire had been his adviser66 and prompter - repeated, after a short pause:
'Anything, Papa?'
'Yes. Anything - almost,' said Mr Dombey.
'Anything means everything, don't it, Papa?' asked his son: not observing, or possibly not understanding, the qualification.
'It includes it: yes,' said Mr Dombey.
'Why didn't money save me my Mama?' returned the child. 'It isn't cruel, is it?'
'Cruel!' said Mr Dombey, settling his neckcloth, and seeming to resent the idea. 'No. A good thing can't be cruel.'
'If it's a good thing, and can do anything,' said the little fellow, thoughtfully, as he looked back at the fire, 'I wonder why it didn't save me my Mama.'
He didn't ask the question of his father this time. Perhaps he had seen, with a child's quickness, that it had already made his father uncomfortable. But he repeated the thought aloud, as if it were quite an old one to him, and had troubled him very much; and sat with his chin resting on his hand, still cogitating67 and looking for an explanation in the fire.
Mr Dombey having recovered from his surprise, not to say his alarm (for it was the very first occasion on which the child had ever broached68 the subject of his mother to him, though he had had him sitting by his side, in this same manner, evening after evening), expounded69 to him how that money, though a very potent70 spirit, never to be disparaged71 on any account whatever, could not keep people alive whose time was come to die; and how that we must all die, unfortunately, even in the City, though we were never so rich. But how that money caused us to be honoured, feared, respected, courted, and admired, and made us powerful and glorious in the eyes of all men; and how that it could, very often, even keep off death, for a long time together. How, for example, it had secured to his Mama the services of Mr Pilkins, by which be, Paul, had often profited himself; likewise of the great Doctor Parker Peps, whom he had never known. And how it could do all, that could be done. This, with more to the same purpose, Mr Dombey instilled72 into the mind of his son, who listened attentively73, and seemed to understand the greater part of what was said to him.
'It can't make me strong and quite well, either, Papa; can it?' asked Paul, after a short silence; rubbing his tiny hands.
'Why, you are strong and quite well,' returned Mr Dombey. 'Are you not?'
Oh! the age of the face that was turned up again, with an expression, half of melancholy74, half of slyness, on it!
'You are as strong and well as such little people usually are? Eh?' said Mr Dombey.
'Florence is older than I am, but I'm not as strong and well as Florence, 'I know,' returned the child; 'and I believe that when Florence was as little as me, she could play a great deal longer at a time without tiring herself. I am so tired sometimes,' said little Paul, warming his hands, and looking in between the bars of the grate, as if some ghostly puppet-show were performing there, 'and my bones ache so (Wickam says it's my bones), that I don't know what to do.'
'Ay! But that's at night,' said Mr Dombey, drawing his own chair closer to his son's, and laying his hand gently on his back; 'little people should be tired at night, for then they sleep well.'
'Oh, it's not at night, Papa,' returned the child, 'it's in the day; and I lie down in Florence's lap, and she sings to me. At night I dream about such cu-ri-ous things!'
And he went on, warming his hands again, and thinking about them, like an old man or a young goblin.
Mr Dombey was so astonished, and so uncomfortable, and so perfectly at a loss how to pursue the conversation, that he could only sit looking at his son by the light of the fire, with his hand resting on his back, as if it were detained there by some magnetic attraction. Once he advanced his other hand, and turned the contemplative face towards his own for a moment. But it sought the fire again as soon as he released it; and remained, addressed towards the flickering75 blaze, until the nurse appeared, to summon him to bed.
'I want Florence to come for me,' said Paul.
'Won't you come with your poor Nurse Wickam, Master Paul?' inquired that attendant, with great pathos76.
'No, I won't,' replied Paul, composing himself in his arm-chair again, like the master of the house.
Invoking77 a blessing78 upon his innocence79, Mrs Wickam withdrew, and presently Florence appeared in her stead. The child immediately started up with sudden readiness and animation80, and raised towards his father in bidding him good-night, a countenance81 so much brighter, so much younger, and so much more child-like altogether, that Mr Dombey, while he felt greatly reassured82 by the change, was quite amazed at it.
After they had left the room together, he thought he heard a soft voice singing; and remembering that Paul had said his sister sung to him, he had the curiosity to open the door and listen, and look after them. She was toiling83 up the great, wide, vacant staircase, with him in her arms; his head was lying on her shoulder, one of his arms thrown negligently84 round her neck. So they went, toiling up; she singing all the way, and Paul sometimes crooning out a feeble accompaniment. Mr Dombey looked after them until they reached the top of the staircase - not without halting to rest by the way - and passed out of his sight; and then he still stood gazing upwards85, until the dull rays of the moon, glimmering86 in a melancholy manner through the dim skylight, sent him back to his room.
Mrs Chick and Miss Tox were convoked87 in council at dinner next day; and when the cloth was removed, Mr Dombey opened the proceedings88 by requiring to be informed, without any gloss89 or reservation, whether there was anything the matter with Paul, and what Mr Pilkins said about him.
'For the child is hardly,' said Mr Dombey, 'as stout90 as I could wish.'
'My dear Paul,' returned Mrs Chick, 'with your usual happy discrimination, which I am weak enough to envy you, every time I am in your company; and so I think is Miss Tox
'Oh my dear!' said Miss Tox, softly, 'how could it be otherwise? Presumptuous as it is to aspire91 to such a level; still, if the bird of night may - but I'll not trouble Mr Dombey with the sentiment. It merely relates to the Bulbul.'
Mr Dombey bent92 his head in stately recognition of the Bulbuls as an old-established body.
'With your usual happy discrimination, my dear Paul,' resumed Mrs Chick, 'you have hit the point at once. Our darling is altogether as stout as we could wish. The fact is, that his mind is too much for him. His soul is a great deal too large for his frame. I am sure the way in which that dear child talks!'said Mrs Chick, shaking her head; 'no one would believe. His expressions, Lucretia, only yesterday upon the subject of Funerals!
'I am afraid,' said Mr Dombey, interrupting her testily93, 'that some of those persons upstairs suggest improper94 subjects to the child. He was speaking to me last night about his - about his Bones,' said Mr Dombey, laying an irritated stress upon the word. 'What on earth has anybody to do with the - with the - Bones of my son? He is not a living skeleton, I suppose.
'Very far from it,' said Mrs Chick, with unspeakable expression.
'I hope so,' returned her brother. 'Funerals again! who talks to the child of funerals? We are not undertakers, or mutes, or grave-diggers, I believe.'
'Very far from it,' interposed Mrs Chick, with the same profound expression as before.
'Then who puts such things into his head?' said Mr Dombey. 'Really I was quite dismayed and shocked last night. Who puts such things into his head, Louisa?'
'My dear Paul,' said Mrs Chick, after a moment's silence, 'it is of no use inquiring. I do not think, I will tell you candidly95 that Wickam is a person of very cheerful spirit, or what one would call a - '
'A daughter of Momus,' Miss Tox softly suggested.
'Exactly so,' said Mrs Chick; 'but she is exceedingly attentive and useful, and not at all presumptuous; indeed I never saw a more biddable woman. I would say that for her, if I was put upon my trial before a Court of Justice.'
'Well! you are not put upon your trial before a Court of Justice, at present, Louisa,' returned Mr Dombey, chafing,' and therefore it don't matter.
'My dear Paul,' said Mrs Chick, in a warning voice, 'I must be spoken to kindly96, or there is an end of me,' at the same time a premonitory redness developed itself in Mrs Chick's eyelids97 which was an invariable sign of rain, unless the weather changed directly.
'I was inquiring, Louisa,' observed Mr Dombey, in an altered voice, and after a decent interval98, 'about Paul's health and actual state.
'If the dear child,' said Mrs Chick, in the tone of one who was summing up what had been previously99 quite agreed upon, instead of saying it all for the first time, 'is a little weakened by that last attack, and is not in quite such vigorous health as we could wish; and if he has some temporary weakness in his system, and does occasionally seem about to lose, for the moment, the use of his - '
Mrs Chick was afraid to say limbs, after Mr Dombey's recent objection to bones, and therefore waited for a suggestion from Miss Tox, who, true to her office, hazarded 'members.'
'Members!' repeated Mr Dombey.
'I think the medical gentleman mentioned legs this morning, my dear Louisa, did he not?' said Miss Tox.
'Why, of course he did, my love,' retorted Mrs Chick, mildly reproachful. 'How can you ask me? You heard him. I say, if our dear Paul should lose, for the moment, the use of his legs, these are casualties common to many children at his time of life, and not to be prevented by any care or caution. The sooner you understand that, Paul, and admit that, the better. If you have any doubt as to the amount of care, and caution, and affection, and self-sacrifice, that has been bestowed100 upon little Paul, I should wish to refer the question to your medical attendant, or to any of your dependants101 in this house. Call Towlinson,' said Mrs Chick, 'I believe he has no prejudice in our favour; quite the contrary. I should wish to hear what accusation102 Towlinson can make!'
'Surely you must know, Louisa,' observed Mr Dombey, 'that I don't question your natural devotion to, and regard for, the future head of my house.'
'I am glad to hear it, Paul,' said Mrs Chick; 'but really you are very odd, and sometimes talk very strangely, though without meaning it, I know. If your dear boy's soul is too much for his body, Paul, you should remember whose fault that is - who he takes after, I mean - and make the best of it. He's as like his Papa as he can be. People have noticed it in the streets. The very beadle, I am informed, observed it, so long ago as at his christening. He's a very respectable man, with children of his own. He ought to know.'
'Mr Pilkins saw Paul this morning, I believe?' said Mr Dombey.
'Yes, he did,' returned his sister. 'Miss Tox and myself were present. Miss Tox and myself are always present. We make a point of it. Mr Pilkins has seen him for some days past, and a very clever man I believe him to be. He says it is nothing to speak of; which I can confirm, if that is any consolation; but he recommended, to-day, sea-air. Very wisely, Paul, I feel convinced.'
'Sea-air,' repeated Mr Dombey, looking at his sister.
'There is nothing to be made uneasy by, in that,'said Mrs Chick. 'My George and Frederick were both ordered sea-air, when they were about his age; and I have been ordered it myself a great many times. I quite agree with you, Paul, that perhaps topics may be incautiously mentioned upstairs before him, which it would be as well for his little mind not to expatiate103 upon; but I really don't see how that is to be helped, in the case of a child of his quickness. If he were a common child, there would be nothing in it. I must say I think, with Miss Tox, that a short absence from this house, the air of Brighton, and the bodily and mental training of so judicious104 a person as Mrs Pipchin for instance - '
'Who is Mrs Pipchin, Louisa?' asked Mr Dombey; aghast at this familiar introduction of a name he had never heard before.
'Mrs Pipchin, my dear Paul,' returned his sister, 'is an elderly lady - Miss Tox knows her whole history - who has for some time devoted all the energies of her mind, with the greatest success, to the study and treatment of infancy105, and who has been extremely well connected. Her husband broke his heart in - how did you say her husband broke his heart, my dear? I forget the precise circumstances.
'In pumping water out of the Peruvian Mines,' replied Miss Tox.
'Not being a Pumper himself, of course,' said Mrs Chick, glancing at her brother; and it really did seem necessary to offer the explanation, for Miss Tox had spoken of him as if he had died at the handle; 'but having invested money in the speculation50, which failed. I believe that Mrs Pipchin's management of children is quite astonishing. I have heard it commended in private circles ever since I was - dear me - how high!' Mrs Chick's eye wandered about the bookcase near the bust106 of Mr Pitt, which was about ten feet from the ground.
'Perhaps I should say of Mrs Pipchin, my dear Sir,' observed Miss Tox, with an ingenuous107 blush, 'having been so pointedly109 referred to, that the encomium110 which has been passed upon her by your sweet sister is well merited. Many ladies and gentleman, now grown up to be interesting members of society, have been indebted to her care. The humble111 individual who addresses you was once under her charge. I believe juvenile112 nobility itself is no stranger to her establishment.'
'Do I understand that this respectable matron keeps an establishment, Miss Tox?' the Mr Dombey, condescendingly.
'Why, I really don't know,' rejoined that lady, 'whether I am justified113 in calling it so. It is not a Preparatory School by any means. Should I express my meaning,' said Miss Tox, with peculiar114 sweetness,'if I designated it an infantine Boarding-House of a very select description?'
'On an exceedingly limited and particular scale,' suggested Mrs Chick, with a glance at her brother.
'Oh! Exclusion115 itself!' said Miss Tox.
There was something in this. Mrs Pipchin's husband having broken his heart of the Peruvian mines was good. It had a rich sound. Besides, Mr Dombey was in a state almost amounting to consternation116 at the idea of Paul remaining where he was one hour after his removal had been recommended by the medical practitioner117. It was a stoppage and delay upon the road the child must traverse, slowly at the best, before the goal was reached. Their recommendation of Mrs Pipchin had great weight with him; for he knew that they were jealous of any interference with their charge, and he never for a moment took it into account that they might be solicitous118 to divide a responsibility, of which he had, as shown just now, his own established views. Broke his heart of the Peruvian mines, mused119 Mr Dombey. Well! a very respectable way of doing It.
'Supposing we should decide, on to-morrow's inquiries120, to send Paul down to Brighton to this lady, who would go with him?' inquired Mr Dombey, after some reflection.
'I don't think you could send the child anywhere at present without Florence, my dear Paul,' returned his sister, hesitating. 'It's quite an infatuation with him. He's very young, you know, and has his fancies.'
Mr Dombey turned his head away, and going slowly to the bookcase, and unlocking it, brought back a book to read.
'Anybody else, Louisa?' he said, without looking up, and turning over the leaves.
'Wickam, of course. Wickam would be quite sufficient, I should say,' returned his sister. 'Paul being in such hands as Mrs Pipchin's, you could hardly send anybody who would be a further check upon her. You would go down yourself once a week at least, of course.'
'Of course,' said Mr Dombey; and sat looking at one page for an hour afterwards, without reading one word.
This celebrated121 Mrs Pipchin was a marvellous ill-favoured, ill-conditioned old lady, of a stooping figure, with a mottled face, like bad marble, a hook nose, and a hard grey eye, that looked as if it might have been hammered at on an anvil122 without sustaining any injury. Forty years at least had elapsed since the Peruvian mines had been the death of Mr Pipchin; but his relict still wore black bombazeen, of such a lustreless123, deep, dead, sombre shade, that gas itself couldn't light her up after dark, and her presence was a quencher124 to any number of candles. She was generally spoken of as 'a great manager' of children; and the secret of her management was, to give them everything that they didn't like, and nothing that they did - which was found to sweeten their dispositions125 very much. She was such a bitter old lady, that one was tempted126 to believe there had been some mistake in the application of the Peruvian machinery127, and that all her waters of gladness and milk of human kindness, had been pumped out dry, instead of the mines.
The Castle of this ogress and child-queller was in a steep by-street at Brighton; where the soil was more than usually chalky, flinty, and sterile128, and the houses were more than usually brittle129 and thin; where the small front-gardens had the unaccountable property of producing nothing but marigolds, whatever was sown in them; and where snails130 were constantly discovered holding on to the street doors, and other public places they were not expected to ornament131, with the tenacity132 of cupping-glasses. In the winter time the air couldn't be got out of the Castle, and in the summer time it couldn't be got in. There was such a continual reverberation133 of wind in it, that it sounded like a great shell, which the inhabitants were obliged to hold to their ears night and day, whether they liked it or no. It was not, naturally, a fresh-smelling house; and in the window of the front parlour, which was never opened, Mrs Pipchin kept a collection of plants in pots, which imparted an earthy flavour of their own to the establishment. However choice examples of their kind, too, these plants were of a kind peculiarly adapted to the embowerment of Mrs Pipchin. There were half-a-dozen specimens135 of the cactus136, writhing137 round bits of lath, like hairy serpents; another specimen134 shooting out broad claws, like a green lobster138; several creeping vegetables, possessed139 of sticky and adhesive140 leaves; and one uncomfortable flower-pot hanging to the ceiling, which appeared to have boiled over, and tickling141 people underneath142 with its long green ends, reminded them of spiders - in which Mrs Pipchin's dwelling143 was uncommonly144 prolific145, though perhaps it challenged competition still more proudly, in the season, in point of earwigs.
Mrs Pipchin's scale of charges being high, however, to all who could afford to pay, and Mrs Pipchin very seldom sweetening the equable acidity146 of her nature in favour of anybody, she was held to be an old 'lady of remarkable firmness, who was quite scientific in her knowledge of the childish character.' On this reputation, and on the broken heart of Mr Pipchin, she had contrived147, taking one year with another, to eke148 out a tolerable sufficient living since her husband's demise149. Within three days after Mrs Chick's first allusion150 to her, this excellent old lady had the satisfaction of anticipating a handsome addition to her current receipts, from the pocket of Mr Dombey; and of receiving Florence and her little brother Paul, as inmates151 of the Castle.
Mrs Chick and Miss Tox, who had brought them down on the previous night (which they all passed at an Hotel), had just driven away from the door, on their journey home again; and Mrs Pipchin, with her back to the fire, stood, reviewing the new-comers, like an old soldier. Mrs Pipchin's middle-aged152 niece, her good-natured and devoted slave, but possessing a gaunt and iron-bound aspect, and much afflicted153 with boils on her nose, was divesting154 Master Bitherstone of the clean collar he had worn on parade. Miss Pankey, the only other little boarder at present, had that moment been walked off to the Castle Dungeon155 (an empty apartment at the back, devoted to correctional purposes), for having sniffed156 thrice, in the presence of visitors.
'Well, Sir,' said Mrs Pipchin to Paul, 'how do you think you shall like me?'
'I don't think I shall like you at all,' replied Paul. 'I want to go away. This isn't my house.'
'No. It's mine,' retorted Mrs Pipchin.
'It's a very nasty one,' said Paul.
'There's a worse place in it than this though,' said Mrs Pipchin, 'where we shut up our bad boys.'
'Has he ever been in it?' asked Paul: pointing out Master Bitherstone.
Mrs Pipchin nodded assent157; and Paul had enough to do, for the rest of that day, in surveying Master Bitherstone from head to foot, and watching all the workings of his countenance, with the interest attaching to a boy of mysterious and terrible experiences.
At one o'clock there was a dinner, chiefly of the farinaceous and vegetable kind, when Miss Pankey (a mild little blue-eyed morsel158 of a child, who was shampoo'd every morning, and seemed in danger of being rubbed away, altogether) was led in from captivity159 by the ogress herself, and instructed that nobody who sniffed before visitors ever went to Heaven. When this great truth had been thoroughly160 impressed upon her, she was regaled with rice; and subsequently repeated the form of grace established in the Castle, in which there was a special clause, thanking Mrs Pipchin for a good dinner. Mrs Pipchin's niece, Berinthia, took cold pork. Mrs Pipchin, whose constitution required warm nourishment161, made a special repast of mutton-chops, which were brought in hot and hot, between two plates, and smelt very nice.
As it rained after dinner, and they couldn't go out walking on the beach, and Mrs Pipchin's constitution required rest after chops, they went away with Berry (otherwise Berinthia) to the Dungeon; an empty room looking out upon a chalk wall and a water-butt, and made ghastly by a ragged162 fireplace without any stove in it. Enlivened by company, however, this was the best place after all; for Berry played with them there, and seemed to enjoy a game at romps163 as much as they did; until Mrs Pipchin knocking angrily at the wall, like the Cock Lane Ghost' revived, they left off, and Berry told them stories in a whisper until twilight164.
For tea there was plenty of milk and water, and bread and butter, with a little black tea-pot for Mrs Pipchin and Berry, and buttered toast unlimited165 for Mrs Pipchin, which was brought in, hot and hot, like the chops. Though Mrs Pipchin got very greasy166, outside, over this dish, it didn't seem to lubricate her internally, at all; for she was as fierce as ever, and the hard grey eye knew no softening167.
After tea, Berry brought out a little work-box, with the Royal Pavilion on the lid, and fell to working busily; while Mrs Pipchin, having put on her spectacles and opened a great volume bound in green baize, began to nod. And whenever Mrs Pipchin caught herself falling forward into the fire, and woke up, she filliped Master Bitherstone on the nose for nodding too.
At last it was the children's bedtime, and after prayers they went to bed. As little Miss Pankey was afraid of sleeping alone in the dark, Mrs Pipchin always made a point of driving her upstairs herself, like a sheep; and it was cheerful to hear Miss Pankey moaning long afterwards, in the least eligible168 chamber169, and Mrs Pipchin now and then going in to shake her. At about half-past nine o'clock the odour of a warm sweet-bread (Mrs Pipchin's constitution wouldn't go to sleep without sweet-bread) diversified170 the prevailing171 fragrance172 of the house, which Mrs Wickam said was 'a smell of building;' and slumber2 fell upon the Castle shortly after.
The breakfast next morning was like the tea over night, except that Mrs Pipchin took her roll instead of toast, and seemed a little more irate173 when it was over. Master Bitherstone read aloud to the rest a pedigree from Genesis judiciously174 selected by Mrs Pipchin), getting over the names with the ease and clearness of a person tumbling up the treadmill175. That done, Miss Pankey was borne away to be shampoo'd; and Master Bitherstone to have something else done to him with salt water, from which he always returned very blue and dejected. Paul and Florence went out in the meantime on the beach with Wickam - who was constantly in tears - and at about noon Mrs Pipchin presided over some Early Readings. It being a part of Mrs Pipchin's system not to encourage a child's mind to develop and expand itself like a young flower, but to open it by force like an oyster176, the moral of these lessons was usually of a violent and stunning177 character: the hero - a naughty boy - seldom, in the mildest catastrophe178, being finished off anything less than a lion, or a bear.
Such was life at Mrs Pipchin's. On Saturday Mr Dombey came down; and Florence and Paul would go to his Hotel, and have tea They passed the whole of Sunday with him, and generally rode out before dinner; and on these occasions Mr Dombey seemed to grow, like Falstaff's assailants, and instead of being one man in buckram, to become a dozen. Sunday evening was the most melancholy evening in the week; for Mrs Pipchin always made a point of being particularly cross on Sunday nights. Miss Pankey was generally brought back from an aunt's at Rottingdean, in deep distress179; and Master Bitherstone, whose relatives were all in India, and who was required to sit, between the services, in an erect position with his head against the parlour wall, neither moving hand nor foot, suffered so acutely in his young spirits that he once asked Florence, on a Sunday night, if she could give him any idea of the way back to Bengal.
But it was generally said that Mrs Pipchin was a woman of system with children; and no doubt she was. Certainly the wild ones went home tame enough, after sojourning for a few months beneath her hospitable180 roof. It was generally said, too, that it was highly creditable of Mrs Pipchin to have devoted herself to this way of life, and to have made such a sacrifice of her feelings, and such a resolute181 stand against her troubles, when Mr Pipchin broke his heart in the Peruvian mines.
At this exemplary old lady, Paul would sit staring in his little arm-chair by the fire, for any length of time. He never seemed to know what weariness was, when he was looking fixedly182 at Mrs Pipchin. He was not fond of her; he was not afraid of her; but in those old, old moods of his, she seemed to have a grotesque183 attraction for him. There he would sit, looking at her, and warming his hands, and looking at her, until he sometimes quite confounded Mrs Pipchin, Ogress as she was. Once she asked him, when they were alone, what he was thinking about.
'You,' said Paul, without the least reserve.
'And what are you thinking about me?' asked Mrs Pipchin.
'I'm thinking how old you must be,' said Paul.
'You mustn't say such things as that, young gentleman,' returned the dame184. 'That'll never do.'
'Why not?' asked Paul.
'Because it's not polite,' said Mrs Pipchin, snappishly.
'Not polite?' said Paul.
'No.'
'It's not polite,' said Paul, innocently, 'to eat all the mutton chops and toast, Wickam says.
'Wickam,' retorted Mrs Pipchin, colouring, 'is a wicked, impudent185, bold-faced hussy.'
'What's that?' inquired Paul.
'Never you mind, Sir,' retorted Mrs Pipchin. 'Remember the story of the little boy that was gored186 to death by a mad bull for asking questions.'
'If the bull was mad,' said Paul, 'how did he know that the boy had asked questions? Nobody can go and whisper secrets to a mad bull. I don't believe that story.
'You don't believe it, Sir?' repeated Mrs Pipchin, amazed.
'No,' said Paul.
'Not if it should happen to have been a tame bull, you little Infidel?' said Mrs Pipchin.
As Paul had not considered the subject in that light, and had founded his conclusions on the alleged187 lunacy of the bull, he allowed himself to be put down for the present. But he sat turning it over in his mind, with such an obvious intention of fixing Mrs Pipchin presently, that even that hardy188 old lady deemed it prudent189 to retreat until he should have forgotten the subject.
From that time, Mrs Pipchin appeared to have something of the same odd kind of attraction towards Paul, as Paul had towards her. She would make him move his chair to her side of the fire, instead of sitting opposite; and there he would remain in a nook between Mrs Pipchin and the fender, with all the light of his little face absorbed into the black bombazeen drapery, studying every line and wrinkle of her countenance, and peering at the hard grey eye, until Mrs Pipchin was sometimes fain to shut it, on pretence190 of dozing191. Mrs Pipchin had an old black cat, who generally lay coiled upon the centre foot of the fender, purring egotistically, and winking192 at the fire until the contracted pupils of his eyes were like two notes of admiration193. The good old lady might have been - not to record it disrespectfully - a witch, and Paul and the cat her two familiars, as they all sat by the fire together. It would have been quite in keeping with the appearance of the party if they had all sprung up the chimney in a high wind one night, and never been heard of any more.
This, however, never came to pass. The cat, and Paul, and Mrs Pipchin, were constantly to be found in their usual places after dark; and Paul, eschewing194 the companionship of Master Bitherstone, went on studying Mrs Pipchin, and the cat, and the fire, night after night, as if they were a book of necromancy195, in three volumes.
Mrs Wickam put her own construction on Paul's eccentricities196; and being confirmed in her low spirits by a perplexed197 view of chimneys from the room where she was accustomed to sit, and by the noise of the wind, and by the general dulness (gashliness was Mrs Wickam's strong expression) of her present life, deduced the most dismal198 reflections from the foregoing premises199. It was a part of Mrs Pipchin's policy to prevent her own 'young hussy' - that was Mrs Pipchin's generic200 name for female servant - from communicating with Mrs Wickam: to which end she devoted much of her time to concealing201 herself behind doors, and springing out on that devoted maiden202, whenever she made an approach towards Mrs Wickam's apartment. But Berry was free to hold what converse203 she could in that quarter, consistently with the discharge of the multifarious duties at which she toiled204 incessantly205 from morning to night; and to Berry Mrs Wickam unburdened her mind.
'What a pretty fellow he is when he's asleep!' said Berry, stopping to look at Paul in bed, one night when she took up Mrs Wickam's supper.
'Ah!' sighed Mrs Wickam. 'He need be.'
'Why, he's not ugly when he's awake,' observed Berry.
'No, Ma'am. Oh, no. No more was my Uncle's Betsey Jane,' said Mrs Wickam.
Berry looked as if she would like to trace the connexion of ideas between Paul Dombey and Mrs Wickam's Uncle's Betsey Jane
'My Uncle's wife,' Mrs Wickam went on to say, 'died just like his Mama. My Uncle's child took on just as Master Paul do.'
'Took on! You don't think he grieves for his Mama, sure?' argued Berry, sitting down on the side of the bed. 'He can't remember anything about her, you know, Mrs Wickam. It's not possible.'
'No, Ma'am,' said Mrs Wickam 'No more did my Uncle's child. But my Uncle's child said very strange things sometimes, and looked very strange, and went on very strange, and was very strange altogether. My Uncle's child made people's blood run cold, some times, she did!'
'How?' asked Berry.
'I wouldn't have sat up all night alone with Betsey Jane!' said Mrs Wickam, 'not if you'd have put Wickam into business next morning for himself. I couldn't have done it, Miss Berry.
Miss Berry naturally asked why not? But Mrs Wickam, agreeably to the usage of some ladies in her condition, pursued her own branch of the subject, without any compunction.
'Betsey Jane,' said Mrs Wickam, 'was as sweet a child as I could wish to see. I couldn't wish to see a sweeter. Everything that a child could have in the way of illnesses, Betsey Jane had come through. The cramps206 was as common to her,' said Mrs Wickam, 'as biles is to yourself, Miss Berry.' Miss Berry involuntarily wrinkled her nose.
'But Betsey Jane,' said Mrs Wickam, lowering her voice, and looking round the room, and towards Paul in bed, 'had been minded, in her cradle, by her departed mother. I couldn't say how, nor I couldn't say when, nor I couldn't say whether the dear child knew it or not, but Betsey Jane had been watched by her mother, Miss Berry!' and Mrs Wickam, with a very white face, and with watery207 eyes, and with a tremulous voice, again looked fearfully round the room, and towards Paul in bed.
'Nonsense!' cried Miss Berry - somewhat resentful of the idea.
'You may say nonsense! I ain't offended, Miss. I hope you may be able to think in your own conscience that it is nonsense; you'll find your spirits all the better for it in this - you'll excuse my being so free - in this burying-ground of a place; which is wearing of me down. Master Paul's a little restless in his sleep. Pat his back, if you please.'
'Of course you think,' said Berry, gently doing what she was asked, 'that he has been nursed by his mother, too?'
'Betsey Jane,' returned Mrs Wickam in her most solemn tones, 'was put upon as that child has been put upon, and changed as that child has changed. I have seen her sit, often and often, think, think, thinking, like him. I have seen her look, often and often, old, old, old, like him. I have heard her, many a time, talk just like him. I consider that child and Betsey Jane on the same footing entirely208, Miss Berry.'
'Is your Uncle's child alive?' asked Berry.
'Yes, Miss, she is alive,' returned Mrs Wickam with an air of triumph, for it was evident. Miss Berry expected the reverse; 'and is married to a silver-chaser. Oh yes, Miss, SHE is alive,' said Mrs Wickam, laying strong stress on her nominative case.
It being clear that somebody was dead, Mrs Pipchin's niece inquired who it was.
'I wouldn't wish to make you uneasy,' returned Mrs Wickam, pursuing her supper. Don't ask me.'
This was the surest way of being asked again. Miss Berry repeated her question, therefore; and after some resistance, and reluctance209, Mrs Wickam laid down her knife, and again glancing round the room and at Paul in bed, replied:
'She took fancies to people; whimsical fancies, some of them; others, affections that one might expect to see - only stronger than common. They all died.'
This was so very unexpected and awful to Mrs Pipchin's niece, that she sat upright on the hard edge of the bedstead, breathing short, and surveying her informant with looks of undisguised alarm.
Mrs Wickam shook her left fore-finger stealthily towards the bed where Florence lay; then turned it upside down, and made several emphatic210 points at the floor; immediately below which was the parlour in which Mrs Pipchin habitually211 consumed the toast.
'Remember my words, Miss Berry,' said Mrs Wickam, 'and be thankful that Master Paul is not too fond of you. I am, that he's not too fond of me, I assure you; though there isn't much to live for - you'll excuse my being so free - in this jail of a house!'
Miss Berry's emotion might have led to her patting Paul too hard on the back, or might have produced a cessation of that soothing212 monotony, but he turned in his bed just now, and, presently awaking, sat up in it with his hair hot and wet from the effects of some childish dream, and asked for Florence.
She was out of her own bed at the first sound of his voice; and bending over his pillow immediately, sang him to sleep again. Mrs Wickam shaking her head, and letting fall several tears, pointed108 out the little group to Berry, and turned her eyes up to the ceiling.
'He's asleep now, my dear,' said Mrs Wickam after a pause, 'you'd better go to bed again. Don't you feel cold?'
'No, nurse,' said Florence, laughing. 'Not at all.'
'Ah!' sighed Mrs Wickam, and she shook her head again, expressing to the watchful213 Berry, 'we shall be cold enough, some of us, by and by!'
Berry took the frugal214 supper-tray, with which Mrs Wickam had by this time done, and bade her good-night.
'Good-night, Miss!' returned Wickam softly. 'Good-night! Your aunt is an old lady, Miss Berry, and it's what you must have looked for, often.'
This consolatory215 farewell, Mrs Wickam accompanied with a look of heartfelt anguish216; and being left alone with the two children again, and becoming conscious that the wind was blowing mournfully, she indulged in melancholy - that cheapest and most accessible of luxuries - until she was overpowered by slumber.
Although the niece of Mrs Pipchin did not expect to find that exemplary dragon prostrate217 on the hearth-rug when she went downstairs, she was relieved to find her unusually fractious and severe, and with every present appearance of intending to live a long time to be a comfort to all who knew her. Nor had she any symptoms of declining, in the course of the ensuing week, when the constitutional viands218 still continued to disappear in regular succession, notwithstanding that Paul studied her as attentively as ever, and occupied his usual seat between the black skirts and the fender, with unwavering constancy.
But as Paul himself was no stronger at the expiration219 of that time than he had been on his first arrival, though he looked much healthier in the face, a little carriage was got for him, in which he could lie at his ease, with an alphabet and other elementary works of reference, and be wheeled down to the sea-side. Consistent in his odd tastes, the child set aside a ruddy-faced lad who was proposed as the drawer of this carriage, and selected, instead, his grandfather - a weazen, old, crab-faced man, in a suit of battered220 oilskin, who had got tough and stringy from long pickling in salt water, and who smelt like a weedy sea-beach when the tide is out.
With this notable attendant to pull him along, and Florence always walking by his side, and the despondent221 Wickam bringing up the rear, he went down to the margin222 of the ocean every day; and there he would sit or lie in his carriage for hours together: never so distressed223 as by the company of children - Florence alone excepted, always.
'Go away, if you please,' he would say to any child who came to bear him company. Thank you, but I don't want you.'
Some small voice, near his ear, would ask him how he was, perhaps.
'I am very well, I thank you,' he would answer. 'But you had better go and play, if you please.'
Then he would turn his head, and watch the child away, and say to Florence, 'We don't want any others, do we? Kiss me, Floy.'
He had even a dislike, at such times, to the company of Wickam, and was well pleased when she strolled away, as she generally did, to pick up shells and acquaintances. His favourite spot was quite a lonely one, far away from most loungers; and with Florence sitting by his side at work, or reading to him, or talking to him, and the wind blowing on his face, and the water coming up among the wheels of his bed, he wanted nothing more.
'Floy,' he said one day, 'where's India, where that boy's friends live?'
'Oh, it's a long, long distance off,' said Florence, raising her eyes from her work.
'Weeks off?' asked Paul.
'Yes dear. Many weeks' journey, night and day.'
'If you were in India, Floy,' said Paul, after being silent for a minute, 'I should - what is it that Mama did? I forget.'
'Loved me!' answered Florence.
'No, no. Don't I love you now, Floy? What is it? - Died. in you were in India, I should die, Floy.'
She hurriedly put her work aside, and laid her head down on his pillow, caressing224 him. And so would she, she said, if he were there. He would be better soon.
'Oh! I am a great deal better now!' he answered. 'I don't mean that. I mean that I should die of being so sorry and so lonely, Floy!'
Another time, in the same place, he fell asleep, and slept quietly for a long time. Awaking suddenly, he listened, started up, and sat listening.
Florence asked him what he thought he heard.
'I want to know what it says,' he answered, looking steadily225 in her face. 'The sea' Floy, what is it that it keeps on saying?'
She told him that it was only the noise of the rolling waves.
'Yes, yes,' he said. 'But I know that they are always saying something. Always the same thing. What place is over there?' He rose up, looking eagerly at the horizon.
She told him that there was another country opposite, but he said he didn't mean that: he meant further away - farther away!
Very often afterwards, in the midst of their talk, he would break off, to try to understand what it was that the waves were always saying; and would rise up in his couch to look towards that invisible region, far away.
在时间（在一定的意义上说，它是另一个少校）的机警与注意的眼光下，保罗的睡眠逐渐地改变着。愈来愈多的亮光妨碍了它们；愈来愈清楚的梦扰乱了它们；愈益增多的事物与印象群集在他的周围，使他不得安息；他就这样从婴儿时代进入了幼年时代，成为一位会说话，会走路，会疑虑的董贝。
在理查兹犯了罪过、被驱逐出去之后，育儿室可以说已经移交给一个特设委员会来管理了，正像有的公共机构如果找不到一个阿特拉斯①能顶得起它的重担的话，有时就会发生这种情形一样。委员会的委员自然是奇克夫人与托克斯小姐。她们怀着十分惊人的热忱致力于所担负的职责，因此白格斯托克少校每天都能看到一些新的迹象提醒他，他已被抛弃了；奇克先生则由于失去了家庭的监督，就委身于消遣玩乐的世界；他在俱乐部和咖啡馆用餐；一天之内在三次不同的场合与他相遇，都能从他身上闻到烟味；他独自一人出去看戏；总而言之，正如奇克夫人对他说的那样，他已摆脱一切社会义务与道义责任的束缚了。
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①阿特拉斯（Atlas）：希腊神话中双肩能掮天的巨神。
虽然小保罗从一出生起就大有希望，可是所有这些警惕与护理却没有能使他成长为一个体格健壮的孩子。也许生来体质就娇弱，在辞退了奶妈之后他就消瘦、虚弱下去，而且似乎长久在等待机会，从她们的手中溜走，前去寻找他失去的母亲。在他通向成年的障碍赛马中，这个危险的地段虽然已经跳过了，但他依旧觉得道路崎岖不平，乘骑十分艰辛，路程中的所有障碍都使他苦恼不堪。对他来说，每长一颗牙齿都是一道极危险的篱笆，出麻疹中的每一个疹疱都是一道石墙。每一阵百日咳都使他摔倒在地；成群结队、接踵而来的各种小病碾压着他，使他再也不能起来。某种猛禽而不是画眉鸟钻进了他的喉咙①。如果鸡雏与那个以它们的名称来命名的儿童疾病有关的话，②那么连它们也变得很凶猛，就像豹猫一样使他惶惶不安。
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①英文thrush这个词有两个意义，一是画眉鸟，一是鹅口疮。这里指保罗患了鹅口疮，喉咙中像有猛禽在啄咬一样难受。
②指鸡痘（chicken－pox），即水痘。
给保罗施洗礼时的寒冷也许重重地打击了他机体中某处敏感的部位，在他父亲的阴森的冷气的笼罩下，它不能痊愈，可是从那天开始，他就成了一个不幸的孩子了。威肯姆大嫂时常说，她从没有见过哪一位小乖乖这样受罪的。
威肯姆大嫂是一位侍者的妻子——那似乎就等于是任何其他男子的寡妇——；因为显然不可能有任何人会去追求她或她会去追求任何人，所以她到董贝先生家里求职的申请受到了有利的考虑。在保罗突然断奶以后的一两天之内，她就被雇用当他的保姆。威肯姆大嫂是一位温顺的女人，皮肤白嫩，眉毛总是向上扬起，头总是向下低垂；她总是随时准备怜悯自己或受人怜悯或怜悯其他任何人。她有一份惊人的天赋，就是从极为绝望与可怜的角度来观察一切事物，又援引一些可怕的先例来与它们比较，并从这个才能的发挥中得到极大的安慰。
不需要指出，庄严的董贝先生丝毫也不知道她有这个优良的品质。如果他知道了，那才真是令人惊异的，因为公馆里从来没有一个人——连奇克夫人或托克斯小姐也包括在内——敢借任何口实向他低声说出小保罗有使人感到不安的一丁点理由。他认为，孩子总难免要通过某些小病小痛的例行过程，通过得愈快就愈好。如果他能出钱使他免受这些病痛，或者可以买一个替身，就像不幸被抽中服兵役时的情形一样，那么他就会毫不吝啬，十分乐意地这样去做。但由于这是行不通的，所以他只是不时傲慢地心中纳闷，大自然这样安排是什么意思；并聊以自慰地想，道路上的一个里程碑又走过了，伟大的旅程终点又接近好多了。因为在他心中压倒一切的情绪就是急不可耐，这种情绪不断地变得愈来愈强烈，并随着保罗年龄的增长愈来愈加深。他曾经梦想他们父子联合起来就会创建宏伟的业绩；他急不可耐地等待着胜利实现这一梦想的时候来到。
有些哲学家告诉我们，自私植根于我们最热烈的爱与最深厚的感情之中。董贝先生年幼的儿子从一开始就作为他自己的伟大的一部分，或作为董贝父子公司的伟大的一部分（二者实际上是一回事），对他显然十分重要，所以他所怀的父爱可以像许多享有盛誉的华丽建筑一样，很容易就能追溯到它的埋得很深的基础。但他用他所有的爱去爱他的儿子。如果在他的冰冷的心中有一个温暖的地方，那么这个地方就被他的儿子占据着；如果在它的十分坚硬的表面上可以铭刻什么形象的话，那么铭刻出来的就是他儿子的形象，虽然这形象与其说是一个婴儿或是一个小孩，还不如说是一位成年人——董贝父子公司中的“子”。因此，他急不可耐地进入未来，匆匆地跳过了他历史中的中间阶段。因此，他虽然很爱他，但却很少或根本不替他担忧；他觉得仿佛这孩子具有驱恶避邪的魔力，·一·定能成长为他在思想上经常与他进行相互交谈的那一位成年人，仿佛这位成年人是个已经存在的实体似的，他每天都为他制订计划，作出打算。
保罗就这样长到将近五岁。虽然他小小的脸孔有些缺乏血色，神色有些愁闷，这使得威肯姆大嫂意味深长地摇过好多次头，长长地叹过好多次气；但他是个漂亮的小家伙。从他的性格来看，他在日后的生活中很有希望变得专横傲慢。他也很有希望懂得他自己的重要性，懂得所有其他事物与人们都能随从他的欲望，并理所当然地屈服于它。他是孩子气的，有时还很爱玩爱闹，并不是一种忧闷不乐的性情；但在另一些时候，他却有怪僻地、老气横秋地静坐在小扶手椅子中沉思默想的习惯，在这种时候他看上去（或说起话来）就像是神话故事中那些可怕的小妖精，他们已有一百五十岁或二百岁，但却荒诞古怪地装扮成他们所已替换了的小孩子。他在楼上的育儿室中常会露出这种过早成熟的神态；有时甚至是在跟弗洛伦斯玩耍的时候或者把托克斯小姐当作一匹马驱赶着的时候，也会一边喊着“我累了”，一边突然陷入这种状态。当他的小椅子被搬到楼下他父亲的房间里，他和他晚饭后在壁炉旁边挨近坐着的时候，他准会陷入这种状态之中；在任何其他时候都比不上在这时候这样准定使他陷入这种状态的。这时候，他们是炉火所曾照耀过的最奇怪的一对人。董贝先生身子毕挺，神情十分庄严地凝视着火焰；跟他一模一样的那位小人儿，脸上露出一副老而又老的神态，像圣人一样全神贯注、一动不动地注视着那红色的景象。董贝先生心中怀着复杂的世俗的谋略与计划；跟他一模一样的小人儿心中怀着天知道什么荒诞离奇的幻想、没有定形的思索和飘忽不定的考虑。董贝先生由于古板与傲慢而木然不动；跟他一模一样的小人儿则由于遗传和不自觉的模仿而木然不动。这两个人是多么相像，然而又形成了多么奇异的对照。
有一次他们两人一言不发地沉默了很久，董贝先生只是由于偶尔往他的眼睛看上一眼，看到他眼中的亮光像珠子一样闪耀，因此知道他没有睡着，这时候，小保罗这样打破了沉默：
“爸爸，钱是什么？”
这个突然提出的问题跟董贝先生正在思考的问题十分直接地联结着，因此董贝先生感到困窘。
“你问钱是什么吗，保罗？”他回答道。“钱？”
“是的，”孩子把手搁在小椅子的扶手上，抬起他那老气横秋的脸，望着董贝先生的脸，说道，“钱是什么？”
董贝先生陷入了困境。他本来真想把流通手段、通货、通货贬值、钞票、金条银条、汇率、市场上贵金属的价值等等一类术语向他作出一些解释，可是他向下看看那小椅子，看到下面还有那么远远的一段距离，就回答道，“金，银，铜，基尼，先令，半便士。①，你知道它们是什么吗？”
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①当时的英国货币单位。1基尼等于21先令；1镑等于20先令；1先令等于12便士。
“啊，是的，我知道它们是什么，”保罗说道，“我问的不是这意思，爸爸。我是想问，钱究竟是什么？”
哎呀，天老爷！当他抬起脸望着他父亲的脸的时候，那是一张多么老气的脸啊！
“钱究竟是什么！”董贝先生大为惊异地把椅子挪后一点，以便仔细看看提出这样一个问题的自以为是的小东西。
“爸爸，我的意思是它能做什么？”保罗合抱着两只胳膊（它们不够长，不容易合抱），看着火，又抬起眼睛来看着他，又看着火，然后又抬起眼睛来看着他。
董贝先生把他的椅子拉回到原先的地方，摸摸他的头。
“你会逐渐知道的，我的孩子，”他说道。“钱能做任何事情，保罗。”他一边说，一边拉起那只小手，轻轻地敲打着他自己的手。
但是保罗尽快地抽回了自己的手，并轻轻地擦着椅子的扶手，仿佛他的智慧是在手心里，他正在把它磨擦得更机敏一些——同时又看着火，仿佛火是他的顾问与提词员似的——；他在短短的沉默之后，重复着问道：
“任何事情吗，爸爸？”
“是的，任何事情——几乎，”董贝先生说道。
“任何事情就是每一件事情，是不是，爸爸？”他的儿子问道；他没有注意到或者可能不理解那个限制词。
“是的，任何事情包括每一件事情，”董贝先生回答道。
“为什么钱不能把我的妈妈救活呢？”孩子反问道。“它是残酷的，是不是？”
“残酷！”董贝先生整整领饰，似乎憎恨这个想法。“不，好东西不会是残酷的。”
“如果它是个好东西，能做任何事情，”小家伙重新看着火，沉思地说道，“那么我奇怪，它为什么不能把我的妈妈救活呢。”
这次他没有向他的父亲问这个问题。也许他已以孩子机敏的观察力看出，它已经使他的父亲感到不安了。可是他大声地把这个思想重复地说出来，仿佛这对他来说是一个存在已久的思想，曾使他十分苦恼；然后他用手支托着下巴，坐在那里，慎重地思考着，想从火中找到一个解释。
董贝先生从他的惊奇（且不说是恐慌）中恢复过来以后（因为这孩子虽然一个晚上又一个晚上在他身旁以同样的姿态坐着，但这却是他第一次向他提出他母亲的问题），向他详细地说明，钱虽然是个神通很广大的精灵，决不能以任何理由轻视它，但它却不能使到了时候该死的人们活下来；而且很不幸，虽然我们从不曾像现在这样富裕过，但是即使是在城市里，我们所有的人也都是一定要死的。不过，尽管如此，钱却可以使我们得到荣誉，使人们畏惧、尊敬、奉承和羡慕我们，并使我们在所有人们的眼中看来权势显赫，荣耀光彩。它常常能把死亡推迟得很久。举个例子来说，它能使他妈妈获得皮尔金斯先生（保罗本人也常常从他那里受益）和杰出的帕克·佩普斯医生（他从来不知道他）的治疗。它能做到一切它能做到的事情。董贝先生把所有这一切以及为了达到同一目的所要说的其他事情都灌输到他儿子的心中；他的儿子专心致志地听着，似乎对他所说的话他大部分都听懂了。
“它也不能使我强壮和十分健康，是不是，爸爸？”保罗经过短时间的沉默之后，搓搓小手，问道。
“不过你是强壮和十分健康的，”董贝先生回答道。“难道不是吗？”
啊，那张重新抬起来、露出半是忧郁、半是狡猾的表情的脸是多么老气横秋啊！
“你就跟你同样的小人儿通常的情形一样，强壮，健康，是不是，嗯？”董贝先生说道。
“弗洛伦斯比我大，但是我知道，我不像弗洛伦斯那么强壮、健康，”孩子回答道；“不过我相信，弗洛伦斯像我这样小的时候，她能一次比我玩得长久得多，而不会感到累。我有时却感到很累，”小保罗烘烘手，说道，一边往炉栅的栏栅中间望进去，仿佛那里正在表演什么鬼怪木偶戏似的，“而且我的骨头痛得很（威肯姆说，这是我的骨头），我不知道该怎么办。”
“是的！可是那是在夜
收听单词发音 |
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attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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slumbers
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| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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banishment
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| n.放逐，驱逐 | |
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atlas
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| n.地图册，图表集 | |
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commissioners
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| n.专员( commissioner的名词复数 )；长官；委员；政府部门的长官 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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reminder
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| n.提醒物，纪念品；暗示，提示 | |
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Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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bereft
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| adj.被剥夺的 | |
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supervision
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| n.监督，管理 | |
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smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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beset
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| v.镶嵌；困扰，包围 | |
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pimple
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| n.丘疹，面泡，青春豆 | |
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measles
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| n.麻疹，风疹，包虫病，痧子 | |
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prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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malady
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| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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favourably
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| adv. 善意地，赞成地 =favorably | |
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followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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precedents
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| 引用单元； 范例( precedent的名词复数 )； 先前出现的事例； 前例； 先例 | |
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29
deriving
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| v.得到( derive的现在分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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militia
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| n.民兵，民兵组织 | |
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milestone
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| n.里程碑；划时代的事件 | |
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intensifying
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| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的现在分词 )；增辉 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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parental
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| adj.父母的；父的；母的 | |
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sage
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| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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subservience
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| n.有利，有益；从属（地位），附属性；屈从，恭顺；媚态 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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precocious
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| adj.早熟的；较早显出的 | |
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lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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48
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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51
speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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52
starch
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| n.淀粉；vt.给...上浆 | |
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53
arrogance
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| n.傲慢，自大 | |
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54
monstrously
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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58
depreciation
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| n.价值低落，贬值，蔑视，贬低 | |
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bullion
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| n.金条，银条 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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62
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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63
presumptuous
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| adj.胆大妄为的，放肆的，冒昧的，冒失的 | |
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64
propounded
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| v.提出（问题、计划等）供考虑[讨论]，提议( propound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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65
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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66
adviser
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| n.劝告者，顾问 | |
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67
cogitating
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| v.认真思考，深思熟虑( cogitate的现在分词 ) | |
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68
broached
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| v.谈起( broach的过去式和过去分词 )；打开并开始用；用凿子扩大（或修光）；（在桶上）钻孔取液体 | |
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69
expounded
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| 论述，详细讲解( expound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
potent
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| adj.强有力的，有权势的；有效力的 | |
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71
disparaged
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| v.轻视( disparage的过去式和过去分词 )；贬低；批评；非难 | |
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72
instilled
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| v.逐渐使某人获得（某种可取的品质），逐步灌输( instill的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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73
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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74
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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75
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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76
pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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77
invoking
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| v.援引( invoke的现在分词 )；行使（权利等）；祈求救助；恳求 | |
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78
blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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79
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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80
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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81
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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82
reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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83
toiling
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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84
negligently
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85
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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86
glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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87
convoked
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| v.召集，召开（会议）( convoke的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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88
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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89
gloss
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| n.光泽，光滑；虚饰；注释；vt.加光泽于；掩饰 | |
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91
aspire
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| vi.(to，after)渴望，追求，有志于 | |
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92
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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93
testily
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| adv. 易怒地, 暴躁地 | |
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94
improper
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| adj.不适当的，不合适的，不正确的，不合礼仪的 | |
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95
candidly
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| adv.坦率地，直率而诚恳地 | |
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96
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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97
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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98
interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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99
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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100
bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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101
dependants
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| 受赡养者，受扶养的家属( dependant的名词复数 ) | |
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102
accusation
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| n.控告，指责，谴责 | |
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103
expatiate
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| v.细说，详述 | |
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104
judicious
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| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
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105
infancy
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| n.婴儿期；幼年期；初期 | |
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106
bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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107
ingenuous
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| adj.纯朴的，单纯的；天真的；坦率的 | |
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108
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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109
pointedly
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| adv.尖地，明显地 | |
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110
encomium
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| n.赞颂；颂词 | |
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111
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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112
juvenile
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| n.青少年，少年读物；adj.青少年的，幼稚的 | |
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113
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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114
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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115
exclusion
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| n.拒绝，排除，排斥，远足，远途旅行 | |
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116
consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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117
practitioner
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| n.实践者，从事者；(医生或律师等)开业者 | |
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118
solicitous
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| adj.热切的，挂念的 | |
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119
mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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120
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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121
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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122
anvil
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| n.铁钻 | |
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123
lustreless
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| adj.无光泽的，无光彩的，平淡乏味的 | |
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124
quencher
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| 淬火，骤冷； 猝灭 | |
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125
dispositions
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| 安排( disposition的名词复数 )； 倾向； （财产、金钱的）处置； 气质 | |
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126
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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127
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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128
sterile
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| adj.不毛的，不孕的，无菌的，枯燥的，贫瘠的 | |
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129
brittle
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| adj.易碎的；脆弱的；冷淡的；(声音)尖利的 | |
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130
snails
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| n.蜗牛；迟钝的人；蜗牛( snail的名词复数 ) | |
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131
ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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132
tenacity
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| n.坚韧 | |
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133
reverberation
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| 反响； 回响； 反射； 反射物 | |
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134
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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135
specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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136
cactus
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| n.仙人掌 | |
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137
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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138
lobster
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| n.龙虾，龙虾肉 | |
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139
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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140
adhesive
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| n.粘合剂；adj.可粘着的，粘性的 | |
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141
tickling
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| 反馈，回授，自旋挠痒法 | |
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142
underneath
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| adj.在...下面，在...底下；adv.在下面 | |
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143
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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144
uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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145
prolific
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| adj.丰富的，大量的；多产的，富有创造力的 | |
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146
acidity
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| n.酸度，酸性 | |
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147
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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148
eke
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| v.勉强度日，节约使用 | |
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149
demise
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| n.死亡；v.让渡，遗赠，转让 | |
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150
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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151
inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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152
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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153
afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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154
divesting
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| v.剥夺( divest的现在分词 )；脱去（衣服）；2。从…取去…；1。（给某人）脱衣服 | |
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155
dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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156
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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157
assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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158
morsel
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| n.一口，一点点 | |
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159
captivity
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| n.囚禁；被俘；束缚 | |
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160
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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161
nourishment
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| n.食物，营养品；营养情况 | |
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162
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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163
romps
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| n.无忧无虑，快活( romp的名词复数 )v.嬉笑玩闹( romp的第三人称单数 )；（尤指在赛跑或竞选等中）轻易获胜 | |
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164
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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165
unlimited
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| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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166
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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167
softening
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| 变软，软化 | |
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168
eligible
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| adj.有条件被选中的；(尤指婚姻等)合适(意)的 | |
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169
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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170
diversified
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| adj.多样化的，多种经营的v.使多样化，多样化( diversify的过去式和过去分词 )；进入新的商业领域 | |
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171
prevailing
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| adj.盛行的；占优势的；主要的 | |
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172
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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173
irate
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| adj.发怒的，生气 | |
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174
judiciously
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| adv.明断地，明智而审慎地 | |
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175
treadmill
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| n.踏车；单调的工作 | |
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176
oyster
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| n.牡蛎；沉默寡言的人 | |
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177
stunning
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| adj.极好的；使人晕倒的 | |
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178
catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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179
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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180
hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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181
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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182
fixedly
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| adv.固定地；不屈地，坚定不移地 | |
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183
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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184
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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185
impudent
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| adj.鲁莽的，卑鄙的，厚颜无耻的 | |
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186
gored
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| v.（动物）用角撞伤，用牙刺破( gore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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187
alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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188
hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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189
prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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190
pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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191
dozing
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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192
winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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193
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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194
eschewing
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| v.（尤指为道德或实际理由而）习惯性避开，回避( eschew的现在分词 ) | |
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195
necromancy
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| n.巫术；通灵术 | |
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196
eccentricities
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| n.古怪行为( eccentricity的名词复数 )；反常；怪癖 | |
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197
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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198
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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199
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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generic
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| adj.一般的，普通的，共有的 | |
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201
concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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202
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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203
converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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204
toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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205
incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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206
cramps
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| n. 抽筋, 腹部绞痛, 铁箍 adj. 狭窄的, 难解的 v. 使...抽筋, 以铁箍扣紧, 束缚 | |
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207
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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208
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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209
reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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210
emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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211
habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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212
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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213
watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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214
frugal
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| adj.节俭的，节约的，少量的，微量的 | |
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consolatory
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| adj.慰问的，可藉慰的 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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217
prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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218
viands
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| n.食品，食物 | |
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219
expiration
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| n.终结，期满，呼气，呼出物 | |
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220
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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221
despondent
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| adj.失望的，沮丧的，泄气的 | |
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222
margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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223
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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224
caressing
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| 爱抚的，表现爱情的，亲切的 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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