Gliding1 along the silent streets, and holding his course where they were darkest and most gloomy, the man who had left the widow’s house crossed London Bridge, and arriving in the City, plunged2 into the backways, lanes, and courts, between Cornhill and Smithfield; with no more fixedness3 of purpose than to lose himself among their windings4, and baffle pursuit, if any one were dogging his steps.
It was the dead time of the night, and all was quiet. Now and then a drowsy5 watchman’s footsteps sounded on the pavement, or the lamplighter on his rounds went flashing past, leaving behind a little track of smoke mingled6 with glowing morsels7 of his hot red link. He hid himself even from these partakers of his lonely walk, and, shrinking in some arch or doorway8 while they passed, issued forth9 again when they were gone and so pursued his solitary10 way.
To be shelterless and alone in the open country, hearing the wind moan and watching for day through the whole long weary night; to listen to the falling rain, and crouch11 for warmth beneath the lee of some old barn or rick, or in the hollow of a tree; are dismal12 things — but not so dismal as the wandering up and down where shelter is, and beds and sleepers13 are by thousands; a houseless rejected creature. To pace the echoing stones from hour to hour, counting the dull chimes of the clocks; to watch the lights twinkling in chamber14 windows, to think what happy forgetfulness each house shuts in; that here are children coiled together in their beds, here youth, here age, here poverty, here wealth, all equal in their sleep, and all at rest; to have nothing in common with the slumbering15 world around, not even sleep, Heaven’s gift to all its creatures, and be akin17 to nothing but despair; to feel, by the wretched contrast with everything on every hand, more utterly18 alone and cast away than in a trackless desert; this is a kind of suffering, on which the rivers of great cities close full many a time, and which the solitude19 in crowds alone awakens20.
The miserable21 man paced up and down the streets — so long, so wearisome, so like each other — and often cast a wistful look towards the east, hoping to see the first faint streaks22 of day. But obdurate23 night had yet possession of the sky, and his disturbed and restless walk found no relief.
One house in a back street was bright with the cheerful glare of lights; there was the sound of music in it too, and the tread of dancers, and there were cheerful voices, and many a burst of laughter. To this place — to be near something that was awake and glad — he returned again and again; and more than one of those who left it when the merriment was at its height, felt it a check upon their mirthful mood to see him flitting to and fro like an uneasy ghost. At last the guests departed, one and all; and then the house was close shut up, and became as dull and silent as the rest.
His wanderings brought him at one time to the city jail. Instead of hastening from it as a place of ill omen24, and one he had cause to shun25, he sat down on some steps hard by, and resting his chin upon his hand, gazed upon its rough and frowning walls as though even they became a refuge in his jaded26 eyes. He paced it round and round, came back to the same spot, and sat down again. He did this often, and once, with a hasty movement, crossed to where some men were watching in the prison lodge27, and had his foot upon the steps as though determined28 to accost29 them. But looking round, he saw that the day began to break, and failing in his purpose, turned and fled.
He was soon in the quarter he had lately traversed, and pacing to and fro again as he had done before. He was passing down a mean street, when from an alley30 close at hand some shouts of revelry arose, and there came straggling forth a dozen madcaps, whooping31 and calling to each other, who, parting noisily, took different ways and dispersed32 in smaller groups.
Hoping that some low place of entertainment which would afford him a safe refuge might be near at hand, he turned into this court when they were all gone, and looked about for a half-opened door, or lighted window, or other indication of the place whence they had come. It was so profoundly dark, however, and so ill-favoured, that he concluded they had but turned up there, missing their way, and were pouring out again when he observed them. With this impression, and finding there was no outlet33 but that by which he had entered, he was about to turn, when from a grating near his feet a sudden stream of light appeared, and the sound of talking came. He retreated into a doorway to see who these talkers were, and to listen to them.
The light came to the level of the pavement as he did this, and a man ascended34, bearing in his hand a torch. This figure unlocked and held open the grating as for the passage of another, who presently appeared, in the form of a young man of small stature35 and uncommon36 self-importance, dressed in an obsolete37 and very gaudy38 fashion.
‘Good night, noble captain,’ said he with the torch. ‘Farewell, commander. Good luck, illustrious general!’
In return to these compliments the other bade him hold his tongue, and keep his noise to himself, and laid upon him many similar injunctions, with great fluency39 of speech and sternness of manner.
‘Commend me, captain, to the stricken Miggs,’ returned the torch-bearer in a lower voice. ‘My captain flies at higher game than Miggses. Ha, ha, ha! My captain is an eagle, both as respects his eye and soaring wings. My captain breaketh hearts as other bachelors break eggs at breakfast.’
‘What a fool you are, Stagg!’ said Mr Tappertit, stepping on the pavement of the court, and brushing from his legs the dust he had contracted in his passage upward.
‘His precious limbs!’ cried Stagg, clasping one of his ankles. ‘Shall a Miggs aspire40 to these proportions! No, no, my captain. We will inveigle41 ladies fair, and wed42 them in our secret cavern43. We will unite ourselves with blooming beauties, captain.’
‘I’ll tell you what, my buck,’ said Mr Tappertit, releasing his leg; ‘I’ll trouble you not to take liberties, and not to broach44 certain questions unless certain questions are broached45 to you. Speak when you’re spoke46 to on particular subjects, and not otherways. Hold the torch up till I’ve got to the end of the court, and then kennel47 yourself, do you hear?’
‘I hear you, noble captain.’
‘Obey then,’ said Mr Tappertit haughtily48. ‘Gentlemen, lead on!’ With which word of command (addressed to an imaginary staff or retinue) he folded his arms, and walked with surpassing dignity down the court.
His obsequious49 follower50 stood holding the torch above his head, and then the observer saw for the first time, from his place of concealment51, that he was blind. Some involuntary motion on his part caught the quick ear of the blind man, before he was conscious of having moved an inch towards him, for he turned suddenly and cried, ‘Who’s there?’
‘A man,’ said the other, advancing. ‘A friend.’
‘A stranger!’ rejoined the blind man. ‘Strangers are not my friends. What do you do there?’
‘I saw your company come out, and waited here till they were gone. I want a lodging52.’
‘A lodging at this time!’ returned Stagg, pointing towards the dawn as though he saw it. ‘Do you know the day is breaking?’
‘I know it,’ rejoined the other, ‘to my cost. I have been traversing this iron-hearted town all night.’
‘You had better traverse it again,’ said the blind man, preparing to descend53, ‘till you find some lodgings54 suitable to your taste. I don’t let any.’
‘Stay!’ cried the other, holding him by the arm.
‘I’ll beat this light about that hangdog face of yours (for hangdog it is, if it answers to your voice), and rouse the neighbourhood besides, if you detain me,’ said the blind man. ‘Let me go. Do you hear?’
‘Do YOU hear!’ returned the other, chinking a few shillings together, and hurriedly pressing them into his hand. ‘I beg nothing of you. I will pay for the shelter you give me. Death! Is it much to ask of such as you! I have come from the country, and desire to rest where there are none to question me. I am faint, exhausted55, worn out, almost dead. Let me lie down, like a dog, before your fire. I ask no more than that. If you would be rid of me, I will depart to-morrow.’
‘If a gentleman has been unfortunate on the road,’ muttered Stagg, yielding to the other, who, pressing on him, had already gained a footing on the steps —‘and can pay for his accommodation —’
‘I will pay you with all I have. I am just now past the want of food, God knows, and wish but to purchase shelter. What companion have you below?’
‘None.’
‘Then fasten your grate there, and show me the way. Quick!’
The blind man complied after a moment’s hesitation56, and they descended57 together. The dialogue had passed as hurriedly as the words could be spoken, and they stood in his wretched room before he had had time to recover from his first surprise.
‘May I see where that door leads to, and what is beyond?’ said the man, glancing keenly round. ‘You will not mind that?’
‘I will show you myself. Follow me, or go before. Take your choice.’
He bade him lead the way, and, by the light of the torch which his conductor held up for the purpose, inspected all three cellars narrowly. Assured that the blind man had spoken truth, and that he lived there alone, the visitor returned with him to the first, in which a fire was burning, and flung himself with a deep groan58 upon the ground before it.
His host pursued his usual occupation without seeming to heed59 him any further. But directly he fell asleep — and he noted60 his falling into a slumber16, as readily as the keenest-sighted man could have done — he knelt down beside him, and passed his hand lightly but carefully over his face and person.
His sleep was checkered61 with starts and moans, and sometimes with a muttered word or two. His hands were clenched62, his brow bent63, and his mouth firmly set. All this, the blind man accurately64 marked; and as if his curiosity were strongly awakened65, and he had already some inkling of his mystery, he sat watching him, if the expression may be used, and listening, until it was broad day.
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1
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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fixedness
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| n.固定；稳定；稳固 | |
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windings
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| （道路、河流等）蜿蜒的，弯曲的( winding的名词复数 )； 缠绕( wind的现在分词 )； 卷绕； 转动（把手） | |
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drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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morsels
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| n.一口( morsel的名词复数 )；（尤指食物）小块，碎屑 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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crouch
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| v.蹲伏，蜷缩，低头弯腰；n.蹲伏 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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sleepers
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| n.卧铺（通常以复数形式出现）；卧车( sleeper的名词复数 )；轨枕；睡觉（呈某种状态）的人；小耳环 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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awakens
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的第三人称单数 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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obdurate
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| adj.固执的，顽固的 | |
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omen
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| n.征兆，预兆；vt.预示 | |
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shun
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| vt.避开，回避，避免 | |
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jaded
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| adj.精疲力竭的；厌倦的；（因过饱或过多而）腻烦的；迟钝的 | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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accost
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| v.向人搭话，打招呼 | |
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alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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whooping
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| 发嗬嗬声的，发咳声的 | |
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dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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outlet
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| n.出口/路；销路；批发商店；通风口；发泄 | |
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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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obsolete
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| adj.已废弃的，过时的 | |
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gaudy
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| adj.华而不实的；俗丽的 | |
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fluency
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| n.流畅，雄辩，善辩 | |
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aspire
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| vi.(to，after)渴望，追求，有志于 | |
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inveigle
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| v.诱骗 | |
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42
wed
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| v.娶，嫁，与…结婚 | |
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cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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broach
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| v.开瓶，提出(题目) | |
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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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46
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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kennel
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| n.狗舍，狗窝 | |
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48
haughtily
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| adv. 傲慢地, 高傲地 | |
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49
obsequious
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| adj.谄媚的，奉承的，顺从的 | |
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50
follower
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| n.跟随者；随员；门徒；信徒 | |
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51
concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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52
lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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53
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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54
lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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55
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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56
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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57
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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58
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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61
checkered
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| adj.有方格图案的 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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64
accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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65
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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