GEMMA and the Gadfly walked silently along the Lung'Arno. His feverish1 talkativeness seemed to have quite spent itself; he had hardly spoken a word since they left Riccardo's door, and Gemma was heartily3 glad of his silence. She always felt embarrassed in his company, and to-day more so than usual, for his strange behaviour at the committee meeting had greatly perplexed4 her.
By the Uffizi palace he suddenly stopped and turned to her.
"Are you tired?"
"No; why?"
"Nor especially busy this evening?"
"No."
"I want to ask a favour of you; I want you to come for a walk with me."
"Where to?"
"Nowhere in particular; anywhere you like."
"But what for?"
He hesitated.
"I--can't tell you--at least, it's very difficult; but please come if you can."
He raised his eyes suddenly from the ground, and she saw how strange their expression was.
"There is something the matter with you," she said gently. He pulled a leaf from the flower in his button-hole, and began tearing it to pieces. Who was it that he was so oddly like? Someone who had that same trick of the fingers and hurried, nervous gesture.
"I am in trouble," he said, looking down at his hands and speaking in a hardly audible voice. "I --don't want to be alone this evening. Will you come?"
"Yes, certainly, unless you would rather go to my lodgings5."
"No; come and dine with me at a restaurant. There's one on the Signoria. Please don't refuse, now; you've promised!"
They went into a restaurant, where he ordered dinner, but hardly touched his own share, and remained obstinately6 silent, crumbling7 the bread over the cloth, and fidgeting with the fringe of his table napkin. Gemma felt thoroughly8 uncomfortable, and began to wish she had refused to come; the silence was growing awkward; yet she could not begin to make small-talk with a person who seemed to have forgotten her presence. At last he looked up and said abruptly9:
"Would you like to see the variety show?"
She stared at him in astonishment10. What had he got into his head about variety shows?
"Have you ever seen one?" he asked before she had time to speak.
"No; I don't think so. I didn't suppose they were interesting."
"They are very interesting. I don't think anyone can study the life of the people without seeing them. Let us go back to the Porta alla Croce."
When they arrived the mountebanks had set up their tent beside the town gate, and an abominable11 scraping of fiddles12 and banging of drums announced that the performance had begun.
The entertainment was of the roughest kind. A few clowns, harlequins, and acrobats13, a circus-rider jumping through hoops14, the painted columbine, and the hunchback performing various dull and foolish antics, represented the entire force of the company. The jokes were not, on the whole, coarse or offensive; but they were very tame and stale, and there was a depressing flatness about the whole thing. The audience laughed and clapped from their innate15 Tuscan courtesy; but the only part which they seemed really to enjoy was the performance of the hunchback, in which Gemma could find nothing either witty16 or skilful17. It was merely a series of grotesque18 and hideous19 contortions20, which the spectators mimicked21, holding up children on their shoulders that the little ones might see the "ugly man."
"Signor Rivarez, do you really think this attractive?" said Gemma, turning to the Gadfly, who was standing22 beside her, his arm round one of the wooden posts of the tent. "It seems to me----"
She broke off and remained looking at him silently. Except when she had stood with Montanelli at the garden gate in Leghorn, she had never seen a human face express such fathomless23, hopeless misery24. She thought of Dante's hell as she watched him.
Presently the hunchback, receiving a kick from one of the clowns, turned a somersault and tumbled in a grotesque heap outside the ring. A dialogue between two clowns began, and the Gadfly seemed to wake out of a dream.
"Shall we go?" he asked; "or would you like to see more?"
"I would rather go."
They left the tent, and walked across the dark green to the river. For a few moments neither spoke2.
"What did you think of the show?" the Gadfly asked presently.
"I thought it rather a dreary25 business; and part of it seemed to me positively26 unpleasant."
"Which part?"
"Well, all those grimaces28 and contortions. They are simply ugly; there is nothing clever about them."
"Do you mean the hunchback's performance?"
Remembering his peculiar29 sensitiveness on the subject of his own physical defects, she had avoided mentioning this particular bit of the entertainment; but now that he had touched upon the subject himself, she answered: "Yes; I did not like that part at all."
"That was the part the people enjoyed most."
"I dare say; and that is just the worst thing about it."
"Because it was inartistic?"
"N-no; it was all inartistic. I meant--because it was cruel."
He smiled.
"Cruel? Do you mean to the hunchback?"
"I mean---- Of course the man himself was quite indifferent; no doubt, it is to him just a way of getting a living, like the circus-rider's way or the columbine's. But the thing makes one feel unhappy. It is humiliating; it is the degradation30 of a human being."
"He probably is not any more degraded than he was to start with. Most of us are degraded in one way or another."
"Yes; but this--I dare say you will think it an absurd prejudice; but a human body, to me, is a sacred thing; I don't like to see it treated irreverently and made hideous."
"And a human soul?"
He had stopped short, and was standing with one hand on the stone balustrade of the embankment, looking straight at her.
"A soul?" she repeated, stopping in her turn to look at him in wonder.
He flung out both hands with a sudden, passionate31 gesture.
"Has it never occurred to you that that miserable32 clown may have a soul--a living, struggling, human soul, tied down into that crooked33 hulk of a body and forced to slave for it? You that are so tender-hearted to everything--you that pity the body in its fool's dress and bells--have you never thought of the wretched soul that has not even motley to cover its horrible nakedness? Think of it shivering with cold, stilled with shame and misery, before all those people--feeling their jeers34 that cut like a whip--their laughter, that burns like red-hot iron on the bare flesh! Think of it looking round--so helpless before them all--for the mountains that will not fall on it--for the rocks that have not the heart to cover it--envying the rats that can creep into some hole in the earth and hide; and remember that a soul is dumb--it has no voice to cry out--it must endure, and endure, and endure. Oh! I'm talking nonsense! Why on earth don't you laugh? You have no sense of humour!"
Slowly and in dead silence she turned and walked on along the river side. During the whole evening it had not once occurred to her to connect his trouble, whatever it might be, with the variety show; and now that some dim picture of his inner life had been revealed to her by this sudden outburst, she could not find, in her overwhelming pity for him, one word to say. He walked on beside her, with his head turned away, and looked into the water.
"I want you, please, to understand," he began suddenly, turning to her with a defiant35 air, "that everything I have just been saying to you is pure imagination. I'm rather given to romancing, but I don't like people to take it seriously."
She made no answer, and they walked on in silence. As they passed by the gateway36 of the Uffizi, he crossed the road and stooped down over a dark bundle that was lying against the railings.
"What is the matter, little one?" he asked, more gently than she had ever heard him speak. "Why don't you go home?"
The bundle moved, and answered something in a low, moaning voice. Gemma came across to look, and saw a child of about six years old, ragged37 and dirty, crouching38 on the pavement like a frightened animal. The Gadfly was bending down with his hand on the unkempt head.
"What is it?" he said, stooping lower to catch the unintelligible39 answer. "You ought to go home to bed; little boys have no business out of doors at night; you'll be quite frozen! Give me your hand and jump up like a man! Where do you live?"
He took the child's arm to raise him. The result was a sharp scream and a quick shrinking away.
"Why, what is it?" the Gadfly asked, kneeling down on the pavement. "Ah! Signora, look here!"
The child's shoulder and jacket were covered with blood.
"Tell me what has happened?" the Gadfly went on caressingly40. "It wasn't a fall, was it? No? Someone's been beating you? I thought so! Who was it?"
"My uncle."
"Ah, yes! And when was it?"
"This morning. He was drunk, and I--I----"
"And you got in his way--was that it? You shouldn't get in people's way when they are drunk, little man; they don't like it. What shall we do with this poor mite41, signora? Come here to the light, sonny, and let me look at that shoulder. Put your arm round my neck; I won't hurt you. There we are!"
He lifted the boy in his arms, and, carrying him across the street, set him down on the wide stone balustrade. Then, taking out a pocket-knife, he deftly42 ripped up the torn sleeve, supporting the child's head against his breast, while Gemma held the injured arm. The shoulder was badly bruised43 and grazed, and there was a deep gash44 on the arm.
"That's an ugly cut to give a mite like you," said the Gadfly, fastening his handkerchief round the wound to prevent the jacket from rubbing against it. "What did he do it with?"
"The shovel45. I went to ask him to give me a soldo to get some polenta at the corner shop, and he hit me with the shovel."
The Gadfly shuddered46. "Ah!" he said softly, "that hurts; doesn't it, little one?"
"He hit me with the shovel--and I ran away-- I ran away--because he hit me."
"And you've been wandering about ever since, without any dinner?"
Instead of answering, the child began to sob47 violently. The Gadfly lifted him off the balustrade.
"There, there! We'll soon set all that straight. I wonder if we can get a cab anywhere. I'm afraid they'll all be waiting by the theatre; there's a grand performance going on to-night. I am sorry to drag you about so, signora; but----"
"I would rather come with you. You may want help. Do you think you can carry him so far? Isn't he very heavy?"
"Oh, I can manage, thank you."
At the theatre door they found only a few cabs waiting, and these were all engaged. The performance was over, and most of the audience had gone. Zita's name was printed in large letters on the wall-placards; she had been dancing in the ballet. Asking Gemma to wait for him a moment, the Gadfly went round to the performers' entrance, and spoke to an attendant.
"Has Mme. Reni gone yet?"
"No, sir," the man answered, staring blankly at the spectacle of a well-dressed gentleman carrying a ragged street child in his arms, "Mme. Reni is just coming out, I think; her carriage is waiting for her. Yes; there she comes."
Zita descended48 the stairs, leaning on the arm of a young cavalry49 officer. She looked superbly handsome, with an opera cloak of flame-coloured velvet50 thrown over her evening dress, and a great fan of ostrich51 plumes52 hanging from her waist. In the entry she stopped short, and, drawing her hand away from the officer's arm, approached the Gadfly in amazement53.
"Felice!" she exclaimed under her breath, "what HAVE you got there?"
"I have picked up this child in the street. It is hurt and starving; and I want to get it home as quickly as possible. There is not a cab to be got anywhere, so I want to have your carriage."
"Felice! you are not going to take a horrid54 beggar-child into your rooms! Send for a policeman, and let him carry it to the Refuge or whatever is the proper place for it. You can't have all the paupers55 in the town----"
"It is hurt," the Gadfly repeated; "it can go to the Refuge to-morrow, if necessary, but I must see to the child first and give it some food."
Zita made a little grimace27 of disgust. "You've got its head right against your shirt! How CAN you? It is dirty!"
The Gadfly looked up with a sudden flash of anger.
"It is hungry," he said fiercely. "You don't know what that means, do you?"
"Signer Rivarez," interposed Gemma, coming forward, "my lodgings are quite close. Let us take the child in there. Then, if you cannot find a vettura, I will manage to put it up for the night."
He turned round quickly. "You don't mind?"
"Of course not. Good-night, Mme. Reni!"
The gipsy, with a stiff bow and an angry shrug56 of her shoulders, took her officer's arm again, and, gathering57 up the train of her dress, swept past them to the contested carriage.
"I will send it back to fetch you and the child, if you like, M. Rivarez," she said, pausing on the doorstep.
"Very well; I will give the address." He came out on to the pavement, gave the address to the driver, and walked back to Gemma with his burden.
Katie was waiting up for her mistress; and, on hearing what had happened, ran for warm water and other necessaries. Placing the child on a chair, the Gadfly knelt down beside him, and, deftly slipping off the ragged clothing, bathed and bandaged the wound with tender, skilful hands. He had just finished washing the boy, and was wrapping him in a warm blanket, when Gemma came in with a tray in her hands.
"Is your patient ready for his supper?" she asked, smiling at the strange little figure. "I have been cooking it for him."
The Gadfly stood up and rolled the dirty rags together. "I'm afraid we have made a terrible mess in your room," he said. "As for these, they had better go straight into the fire, and I will buy him some new clothes to-morrow. Have you any brandy in the house, signora? I think he ought to have a little. I will just wash my hands, if you will allow me."
When the child had finished his supper, he immediately went to sleep in the Gadfly's arms, with his rough head against the white shirt-front. Gemma, who had been helping58 Katie to set the disordered room tidy again, sat down at the table.
"Signor Rivarez, you must take something before you go home--you had hardly any dinner, and it's very late."
"I should like a cup of tea in the English fashion, if you have it. I'm sorry to keep you up so late."
"Oh! that doesn't matter. Put the child down on the sofa; he will tire you. Wait a minute; I will just lay a sheet over the cushions. What are you going to do with him?"
"To-morrow? Find out whether he has any other relations except that drunken brute59; and if not, I suppose I must follow Mme. Reni's advice, and take him to the Refuge. Perhaps the kindest thing to do would be to put a stone round his neck and pitch him into the river there; but that would expose me to unpleasant consequences. Fast asleep! What an odd little lump of ill-luck you are, you mite--not half as capable of defending yourself as a stray cat!"
When Katie brought in the tea-tray, the boy opened his eyes and sat up with a bewildered air. Recognizing the Gadfly, whom he already regarded as his natural protector, he wriggled60 off the sofa, and, much encumbered61 by the folds of his blanket, came up to nestle against him. He was by now sufficiently62 revived to be inquisitive63; and, pointing to the mutilated left hand, in which the Gadfly was holding a piece of cake, asked:
"What's that?"
"That? Cake; do you want some? I think you've had enough for now. Wait till to-morrow, little man."
"No--that!" He stretched out his hand and touched the stumps64 of the amputated fingers and the great scar on the wrist. The Gadfly put down his cake.
"Oh, that! It's the same sort of thing as what you have on your shoulder--a hit I got from someone stronger than I was."
"Oh, I don't know--not more than other things. There, now, go to sleep again; you have no business asking questions at this time of night."
When the carriage arrived the boy was again asleep; and the Gadfly, without awaking him, lifted him gently and carried him out on to the stairs.
"You have been a sort of ministering angel to me to-day," he said to Gemma, pausing at the door. "But I suppose that need not prevent us from quarrelling to our heart's content in future."
"I have no desire to quarrel with anyone."
"Ah! but I have. Life would be unendurable without quarrels. A good quarrel is the salt of the earth; it's better than a variety show!"
And with that he went downstairs, laughing softly to himself, with the sleeping child in his arms.
琼玛和牛虻沿着阿诺河边默默地走着。他那滔滔不绝的狂热劲儿好像已经消退了。他们离开里卡尔多寓所以后，他就没怎么说话。琼玛见他默不做声，心里着实感到高兴。和他在一起，她总是觉得难为情。比起平常来，她今天更是如此。因为他在会上的举止使她大为困惑。
到了乌菲齐宫时，他突然停了下来，然后转身看着她。
“你累了吗？”
“不累。为什么？”
“今晚也不特别忙吗？”
“不忙。”
“我想求你一件事。我想让你陪我散会儿步。”
“上哪儿呢？”
“没有什么具体的地方，随你喜欢上哪儿。”
“可是为什么呢？”
他犹豫了一下。
“我——不能告诉你——至少是现在，很难说出口。但是如果可以的话，就请来吧。”
他突然抬起原先望着地面的眼睛，她看见他那眼里的神情非常奇怪。
“你是有什么心事，”她平静地说道。他从插在纽孔的那枝花上摘下了一片叶子，随后开始把它撕成碎片。奇怪的是他那么像谁呢？某个人的手指也有这个习惯，动作匆促而又神经质。
“我遇到了麻烦，”他低头看着双手，声音弱得几乎让人听不清楚。“我——今晚不想一个人待着。你来吗？”
“当然可以，你还是到我的寓所去吧。”
“不，陪我找家餐馆吃饭去吧。西格诺里亚有家餐馆。请你现在不要拒绝。你已经答应了！”
他们走进一家餐馆，他点了菜，但是根本就没有动他自己的那一份。他执意一句话也不说，一边在桌布上揉碎面包，一边捏着餐巾的边角。琼玛觉得很不自在，然后开始想她不该同意到这儿来。沉默越发变得尴尬，可是她又不能开口谈一些无关痛痒的事情，那人仿佛已经忘记了她的存在。他终于抬起了头，唐突地说道：“你愿意去看杂耍表演吗？”
她吃惊地望着他。他怎么想到了杂耍表演？
“你见过杂耍表演吗？”没等她回答他又问道。
“没有，我看没有。我并不认为那有什么意思。”
“很有意思的。我倒认为没有看过的人，想要研究人民的生活是不可能的。我们回到克罗斯门去吧。”
当他们到了那里时，卖艺人已在城门旁边支起了帐篷，刺耳的小提琴声和咚咚作响的大鼓声宣布演出已经开始了。
这是最粗俗的娱乐形式。几名小丑、哈里昆和玩杂技的、一名钻圈的马戏骑手、涂脂抹粉的科伦宾和那个做出各种乏味而又愚蠢滑稽动作的驼背，这就组成了全部的阵容。总的来说，那些笑话既不粗俗又不恶心，但是平淡而又陈腐。整场表演都没有什么劲儿。观众出于托斯卡纳人那种天生的礼节，又是大笑又是鼓掌，但是实际上看得津津有味的还是那个驼子的表演，可是琼玛发现既不诙谐又不巧妙，只是扭腰曲背，动作古怪而又丑陋。观众却模仿他的动作，他们把小孩举到肩上，以便让小家伙们也能看见那个“丑人”。
“里瓦雷兹先生，你真的觉得这有吸引力吗？”琼玛转身对牛虻说道。牛虻正站在她的旁边，胳膊搂着帐篷的一根木柱子。“在我看来——”
她打住了话头，仍旧不声不响地看着他。除了那天她在里窝那的花园门口站在蒙泰尼里旁边，她从来没有见过这么一张人脸，脸上表现出一种深不可测、毫无希望的痛苦。她在看着他时想起了但丁笔下的地狱。
这会儿一个小丑踏了驼子一脚，驼子一个转身翻了一个斤斗，然后身体一瘫，怪模怪样地倒在圈子外面。两个小丑开始说话了，这时牛虻好像从梦中醒了过来。
“我们走吧？”他问。“抑或你还想再看一会儿？”
“我想还是走吧。”
他们离开了帐篷，穿过阴暗的草地走到河边。有一段时间里，他们谁都没有说话。
“你认为表演怎么样？”过了会儿牛虻问道。
“我认为这是一个无聊的行当，有一段表演在我看来实在令人不快。”
“哪一段？”
“呃，那些鬼脸，那样地扭腰曲背。简直丑陋不堪，没有一点高明之处。”
“你是说驼子的表演吗？”
她记得他对涉及自己身体缺陷的话题特别敏感，所以就避免具体提到这一段。但是现在是他自己触及这个话题，所以她就作了回答。
“是的，我一点也不喜欢这一部分。”
“这可是人们最欣赏的表演。”
“没错，这正是最糟糕的地方。”
“因为它没有艺术性？”
“不—不，确实没有艺术性可言。我的意思——因为它残忍。”
他微微一笑。
“残忍？你的意思是对那个驼子而言吗？”
“我的意思——那个人当然是一点也不在乎。毫无疑问，对他来说只是谋生的手段，就像骑手或者科伦宾一样。但是这事让人觉得不开心。丢人，这是一个人的堕落。”
“他很可能不比他开始干这行时更堕落。我们大多数人都是堕落的，或在这个方面，或在那个方面。”
“不错，但是这——我敢说你会认为是个荒唐的偏见，但是在我来看，一个人的身体是圣洁的。我不喜欢看见拿它不当回事，使它变得丑陋不堪。”
“一个人的灵魂呢？”
他停下脚步，手扶堤岸的石栏杆站在那里，同时直盯着她。
“一个人的灵魂？”她重复了一遍，转而惊奇地望着他。
他突然伸出双手，激动不已。
“你想过那个可怜的小丑也许有灵魂——一个活生生、苦苦挣扎的人的灵魂，系在那个扭曲的身躯里，被迫为它所奴役吗？你对一切都以慈悲为怀——你可怜那个穿着傻瓜衣服、挂着铃铛的肉体——你可曾想过那个凄惨的灵魂，那个甚至没有五颜六色的衣服遮掩、赤裸在外的灵魂？想想它在众人的面前冷得瑟瑟发抖，羞辱和苦难使它透不过气来——感受到鞭子一样的讥笑——他们的狂笑就像赤红的烙铁烧在裸露的皮肉上！想想它回过头去——在众人的面前那样无依无靠——因为大山不愿压住它——因为岩石无心遮住它——忌妒那些能够逃进某个地洞藏身的老鼠；想起了一个灵魂已经麻木——想喊无声，欲哭无音——它必须忍受、忍受、再忍受。噢！瞧我在胡说八道！你究竟为什么不笑出声来？你没有幽默感！”
她缓慢地转过身去，一句话也没说，沿着河边继续往前走去。整个晚上她都不曾想过把他的苦恼，不管是什么苦恼，与杂耍表演联系在一起。他在突然之间发出了这样一番感慨，这就让她模糊地窥见到他的内心生活。她很可怜他，但又找不出一句得体的话来。他继续走在她的身边，调头俯视河水。
“我想让你明白，”他突然开口说话，带着一种傲气，“我刚才跟你说的一切纯粹都是想象。我非常喜欢沉湎于幻想，但是我不喜欢人家把它当真。”
她没有回答，他们默默地往前走去。当他们经过乌菲齐宫的大门时，他走过马路，停在一个靠在栏杆上的黑色包裹前。
“小家伙，怎么啦？”他问道，她从来没有听过他说话这样和气。“你为什么不回家？”
那个“包裹”动了一下，低声呜咽着说了一些什么。琼玛走了过去，看见一个六岁左右的小孩，衣服又破又脏，蹲在人行道上就像是一个受了惊吓的动物。牛虻弯着腰，手搭在那个头发蓬乱的脑袋上。
“你说什么？”他把身体弯得更低，以便听清模糊不清的答话。“你应该回家睡觉去，小孩子晚上不要出门，你会冻坏的！把手给我，像个男子汉那样跳起来！你住在哪里？”
他抓住那个小孩的胳膊，把他举了起来。结果那个孩子尖叫一声，赶紧缩回身体。
“怎么回事？”牛虻问道，跪在人行道上。“噢！夫人，瞧这儿！”
那个孩子的肩膀和外套都沾着血。
“告诉我出了什么事了？”牛虻继续带着亲切的口吻问道。
“不是摔了一交，对吗？不对？有人打了你吗？我想也是！是谁？”
“我叔叔。”
“啊，是这样！什么时候？”
“今天早上。他喝醉了酒，我、我——”
“然后你碍了他的事——对吗？小家伙，别人喝醉酒时，你就不该妨碍他们。他们可不喜欢。夫人，我们拿这个小孩怎么办呢？孩子，到亮处来。让我看看你的肩膀。把胳膊搁在我的脖子上，我不会伤害你的。这就对了。”
他用双手抱起那个男孩，过了街道，把他放在石栏杆上。
然后他拿出了一把小刀，熟练地割开捅破的袖子。那个小孩把头伏在他的胸前，琼玛则扶着那只受伤的胳膊。肩膀已经肿了起来，胳膊上有一道很深的刀伤。
“给你这个小孩这么一刀，太不像话了。”牛虻一边说着，一边用手帕扎在伤口的周围，防止外套蹭疼伤口。“他用什么干的？”
“铁锹。我请他给一个索尔多，想去拐角的那家店里买点米粥，然后他就用铁锹打了我。”
牛虻不寒而栗。“哎！”他轻声说道，“小家伙，打疼了吧？”
“他用铁锹打了我——我就跑开了——我就跑开了——因为他打我。”
“然后你就一直四处游荡，饭也没吃？”
那个小孩没有回答，开始痛哭起来。牛虻把他从栏杆上抱了下来。
“行了，行了！马上就没事了。我想知道哪儿才能找到一辆马车。恐怕马车全都等在剧院门口，今晚那里可有一场盛大的演出。对不起，夫人，拖累你了。但是——”
“我倒愿意和你一起去。你也许需要帮忙。你看你能把他抱到那儿吗？他很重吗？”
“噢，我能行的，谢谢你。”
他们在剧院门口只发现了几辆马车，它们全都坐了人。演出已经结束，大多数的观众都走了。张贴的海报醒目地印着绮达的名字，她就在芭蕾舞剧中演出。牛虻请琼玛等他一会儿，随后走到演员出口处，跟一位侍者搭上了话。
“莱尼小姐走了吗？”
“没有，先生。”那人回答。看到一位衣着考究的绅士抱着一个衣衫褴褛的街头小孩，他感到有些迷惑不解。“我看莱尼小姐就要出来了，她的马车正在等她。对，她来了。”
绮达走下了楼梯，倚偎着一位青年骑兵军官的胳膊。她显得绰约多姿，大红的丝绒披风罩着晚礼服，一把用鸵鸟羽毛编织的大扇子挂在腰间。她在出口处停下了脚步，从那位军官的胳膊里抽出了手，一脸惊喜地走到牛虻面前。
“费利斯！”她小声地叫道。“你怎么到这儿来了？”
“我在街上捡到了这个小孩。他受了伤，饿着肚子。我想尽快把他带回去。哪儿都找不到马车，所以我想借用你的马车。”
“费利斯！不要把一个讨厌的叫化子带进你的屋子！找个警察来，让他把他带到收容所去，或者什么合适他的地方去。你不能把城里所有的乞丐——”
“他受了伤，”牛虻重复了一遍，“如果必须把他送到收容所去，可以明天送嘛，但是首先我必须照顾他，给他吃点东西。”
绮达做出一个表示厌恶的鬼脸。“你就让他的头抵着你的衬衣！你怎么能这样呢？他脏死了！”
牛虻抬起头，猛然发了火。
“他可饿着肚子，”他怒冲冲地说，“你不懂这是什么意思吗？”
“里瓦雷兹先生，”琼玛走上前来插嘴说道，“我的寓所离这儿很近。我们还是把孩子带到那儿去吧。回头如果你找不到一辆出租的马车，我可以让他在我那儿过夜。”
他迅速转过身去。“你不介意吗？”
“当然不介意。晚安，莱尼小姐！”
那位吉卜赛女郎生硬地鞠了一躬，气呼呼地耸了耸肩膀。
她又挽起那位军官的胳膊，撩起裙裾从他们身旁经过，上了那辆引起争执的马车。
“如果你愿意的话，里瓦雷兹先生，我会让它回来接你和那个孩子。”她站在踏板上说道。
“很好，我这就把地址告诉他。”他走到人行道上，把地址给了那位车夫，然后抱着那个孩子回到琼玛的身边。
凯蒂在家等着她的女主人。听到出了什么事后，她跑去端来热水和其他所需的东西。牛虻把那个孩子放在椅子上，跪在他的身边，熟练地脱下那身破烂的衣服，给他洗了澡，并且包扎了伤口，动作轻柔而又娴熟。他刚好帮那个男孩洗完了澡，正用一条暖和的毛毯把他裹起来，这时琼玛端着一个盘子走了进来。
“你的病人准备吃饭了吗？”她问，冲着那个陌生的小孩笑笑。“我已经给他做好了。”
牛虻站了起来，把那身脏衣服卷成一团。“恐怕我们把你的房间搞得乱七八糟的，”他说，“至于这些，最好还是烧了吧。我明天会给他买些新衣服。夫人，你屋里有白兰地吗？我看他应该喝一点。如果蒙你同意，我这就洗个手。”
等那个孩子吃完晚饭后，他立即就在牛虻的怀里睡着了，头发蓬松的脑袋抵着他的衬衣前襟。琼玛帮着凯蒂把乱成一团的房间收拾好了，然后坐在桌边。
“里瓦雷兹先生，你在回家之前必须吃点东西——你就没怎么吃东西，而且天已不早了。”
“如果你有的话，我倒愿意来杯英国式的茶。对不起，让你折腾到这么晚。”
“噢！没关系的。把那个孩子放到沙发上，他会累着你的。等一等，我在坐垫上放上一条床单。你拿他怎么办？”
“明天吗？除了那个酒鬼恶棍，找找看他还有什么亲人。如果没有，我看只得听从莱尼小姐的忠告，把他送到收容所去。也许最仁慈的做法是在他的脖子上拴上一块石头，把他投进河里去。但是那样就会使我遭受不快的后果。睡得真沉！你这个小孩，真是太不走运了——甚至都不能像只走失的小猫那样保护自己！”
当凯蒂提着茶壶走进来时，那个男孩睁开了眼睛，带着惶惑不安的表情坐了起来。他认出了牛虻，已经把他当成了天然的保护人。他扭身下了沙发，拖着毛毯偎在牛虻的身上。
现在他已完全有了精神，问这问那。他指着那只残疾的左手问道：“这是什么？”
牛虻的左手拿着一块饼。“这个吗？饼。你想吃一点吗？我看你已经吃饱了。小男子汉，等到明天再吃吧。”
“不——那个！”他伸手碰碰断指和手腕处的大疤。牛虻放下了饼。
“噢，是这个！这和你肩膀上的那个东西是一样的——我被一个比我更壮的人打了。”
“疼得厉害吗？”
“噢，我不知道——不见得比其他东西更疼。好了，再去睡觉吧。这么晚了，你就什么也别问了。”
马车开来时，那个孩子又睡着了。牛虻没有叫醒他，轻轻地把他抱起来，然后出了房门走到楼梯上。
“今天在我看来，你就像是服务天使。”他在门口停下脚步对琼玛说。“但是这不会阻止我们以后尽情大吵特吵。”
“我可无意和任何人争吵。”
“啊！但是我可会的。要是不吵，生活就没法忍受。吵得好可是难能可贵，比杂耍表演可要强得多！”
他随即抱着那个沉睡的孩子走下楼梯，并且笑出声来。
收听单词发音 |
1
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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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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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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crumbling
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| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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12
fiddles
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| n.小提琴( fiddle的名词复数 )；欺诈；（需要运用手指功夫的）细巧活动；当第二把手v.伪造( fiddle的第三人称单数 )；篡改；骗取；修理或稍作改动 | |
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13
acrobats
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| n.杂技演员( acrobat的名词复数 )；立场观点善变的人，主张、政见等变化无常的人 | |
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14
hoops
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| n.箍( hoop的名词复数 )；（篮球）篮圈；（旧时儿童玩的）大环子；（两端埋在地里的）小铁弓 | |
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innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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18
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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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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contortions
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| n.扭歪，弯曲；扭曲，弄歪，歪曲( contortion的名词复数 ) | |
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mimicked
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| v.（尤指为了逗乐而）模仿( mimic的过去式和过去分词 )；酷似 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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23
fathomless
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| a.深不可测的 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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grimaces
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| n.（表蔑视、厌恶等）面部扭曲，鬼脸( grimace的名词复数 )v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的第三人称单数 ) | |
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29
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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31
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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32
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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jeers
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| n.操纵帆桁下部（使其上下的）索具；嘲讽( jeer的名词复数 )v.嘲笑( jeer的第三人称单数 ) | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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36
gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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38
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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unintelligible
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| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
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caressingly
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| 爱抚地，亲切地 | |
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41
mite
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| n.极小的东西；小铜币 | |
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42
deftly
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| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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43
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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44
gash
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| v.深切，划开；n.(深长的)切(伤)口；裂缝 | |
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45
shovel
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| n.铁锨，铲子，一铲之量；v.铲，铲出 | |
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46
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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47
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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48
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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49
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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50
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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51
ostrich
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| n.鸵鸟 | |
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52
plumes
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| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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53
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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54
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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55
paupers
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| n.穷人( pauper的名词复数 )；贫民；贫穷 | |
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56
shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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57
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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58
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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59
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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60
wriggled
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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61
encumbered
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| v.妨碍，阻碍，拖累( encumber的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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62
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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63
inquisitive
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| adj.求知欲强的，好奇的，好寻根究底的 | |
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64
stumps
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| （被砍下的树的）树桩( stump的名词复数 )； 残肢； （板球三柱门的）柱； 残余部分 | |
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65
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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