oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第12部分

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rueful　face　to　the　aged　pauper　who　opened　it；　that　even　he；　who　
saw　nothing　but　rueful　faces　about　him　at　the　best　of　times；　started　
back　in　astonishment。　

“Why；　what’s　the　matter　with　the　boy！”　said　the　old　pauper。　

“Mr。　Bumble！　Mr。　Bumble！”　cried　Noah；　with　well…affected　
dismay；　and　in　tones　so　loud　and　agitated；　that　they　not　only　
caught　the　ear　of　Mr。　Bumble　himself；　who　happened　to　be　hard　
by；　but　alarmed　him　so　much　that　he　rushed　into　the　yard　without　
his　cocked　hat—which　is　a　very　curious　and　remarkable　
circumstance；　as　showing　that　even　a　beadle；　acted　upon　by　a　
sudden　and　powerful　impulse；　may　be　afflicted　with　a　momentary　
visitation　of　loss　of　self…possession；　and　forgetfulness　of　personal　
dignity。　

“Oh；　Mr。　Bumble；　sir！”　said　Noah；　“Oliver；　sir—Oliver　has—”　

“What？　What？”　interposed　Mr。　Bumble；　with　a　gleam　of　
pleasure　in　his　metallic　eyes。　“Not　run　away；　he　hasn’t　run　away；　
has　he；　Noah？”　

“No；　sir；　no。　Not　run　away；　sir；　but　he’s　turned　wicious；”　replied　
Noah。　“He　tried　to　murder　me；　sir；　and　then　he　tried　to　murder　

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Charlotte；　and　then　missis。　Oh！　what　dreadful　pain　it　is！　Such　
agony；　please；　sir！”　And　here；　Noah　writhed　and　twisted　his　body　
into　an　extensive　variety　of　eel…like　positions；　thereby　giving　Mr。　
Bumble　to　understand　that；　from　the　violent　and　sanguinary　onset　
of　Oliver　Twist；　he　had　sustained　severe　internal　injury　and　
damage；　from　which　he　was　at　that　moment　suffering　the　acutest　
torture。　

When　Noah　saw　that　the　intelligence　he　communicated　
perfectly　paralysed　Mr。　Bumble；　he　imparted　additional　effect　
thereunto；　by　bewailing　his　dreadful　wound　ten　times　louder　than　
before；　and；　when　he　observed　a　gentleman　in　a　white　waistcoat　
crossing　the　yard；　he　was　more　tragic　in　his　lamentations　than　
ever；　rightly　conceiving　it　highly　expedient　to　attract　the　notice；　
and　rouse　the　indignation；　of　the　gentleman　aforesaid。　

The　gentleman’s　notice　was　very　soon　attracted；　for　he　had　not　
walked　three　paces；　when　he　turned　angrily　round；　and　inquired　
what　that　young　cur　was　howling　for；　and　why　Mr。　Bumble　did　not　
favour　him　with　something　which　would　render　the　series　of　
vocular　exclamations　so　designated　an　involuntary　process。　

“It’s　a　poor　boy　from　the　free…school；　sir；”　replied　Mr。　Bumble；　
“who　has　been　nearly　murdered—all　but　murdered；　sir—by　young　
Twist。”　

“By　Jove！”　exclaimed　the　gentleman　in　the　white　waistcoat；　
stopping　short。　“I　knew　it！　I　felt　a　strange　presentiment　from　the　
very　first；　that　that　audacious　young　savage　would　come　to　be　
hung！”　

“He　has　likewise　attempted；　sir；　to　murder　the　female　servant；”　
said　Mr。　Bumble；　with　a　face　of　ashy　paleness。　

“And　his　missis；”　interposed　Mr。　Claypole。　

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“And　his　master；　too；　I　think　you　say；　Noah？”　added　Mr。　
Bumble。　

“No！　he’s　out；　or　he　would　have　murdered　him；”　replied　Noah。　
“He　said　he　wanted　to。”　

“Ah！　Said　he　wanted　to；　did　he；　my　boy？”　inquired　the　
gentleman　in　the　white　waistcoat。　

“Yes；　sir；”　replied　Noah。　“And　please；　sir；　missis　wants　to　know　
whether　Mr。　Bumble　can　spare　time　to　step　up　there；　directly；　and　
flog　him—’cause　master’s　out。”　

“Certainly；　my　boy；　certainly；”　said　the　gentleman　in　the　white　
waistcoat；　smiling　benignly；　and　patting　Noah’s　head；　which　was　
about　three　inches　higher　than　his　own。　“You’re　a　good　boy—a　
very　good　boy。　Here’s　a　penny　for　you。　Bumble；　just　step　up　to　
Sowerberry’s　with　your　cane；　and　see　what’s　best　to　be　done。　
Don’t　spare　him；　Bumble。”　

“No；　I　will　not；　sir；”　replied　the　beadle；　adjusting　the　wax…end　
which　was　twisted　round　the　bottom　of　his　cane。　for　purposes　of　
parochial　flagellation。　“Tell　Sowerberry　not　to　spare　him　either。　
They’ll　never　do　anything　with　him；　without　stripes　and　bruises；”　
said　the　gentleman　in　the　white　waistcoat。　

“I’ll　take　care；　sir；”　replied　the　beadle。　And　the　cocked　hat　and　
cane　having　been；　by　this　time；　adjusted　to　their　owner’s　
satisfaction；　Mr。　Bumble　and　Noah　Claypole　betook　themselves　
with　all　speed　to　the　undertaker’s　shop。　

Here　the　position　of　affairs　had　not　at　all　improved。　Sowerberry　
had　not　yet　returned；　and　Oliver　continued　to　kick；　with　
undiminished　vigour；　at　the　cellar　door。　The　accounts　of　his　
ferocity；　as　related　by　Mr。　Sowerberry　and　Charlotte；　were　of　so　
startling　a　nature；　that　Mr。　Bumble　judged　it　prudent　to　parley；　

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before　opening　the　door。　With　this　view　he　gave　a　kick　at　the　
outside；　by　way　of　prelude；　and；　then；　applying　his　mouth　to　the　
keyhole；　said；　in　a　deep　and　impressive　tone：　

“Oliver！”　

“Come；　you　let　me　out！”　replied　Oliver；　from　the　inside。　

“Do　you　know　this　here　voice；　Oliver？”　said　Mr。　Bumble。　

“Yes；”　replied　Oliver。　

“Ain’t　you　afraid　of　it；　sir？　Ain’t　you　a…trembling　while　speak；　
sir？”　said　Mr。　Bumble。　

“No！”　replied　Oliver　boldly。　

An　answer　so　different　from　the　one　he　had　expected　to　elicit；　
and　was　in　the　habit　of　receiving；　staggered　Mr。　Bumble　not　a　
little。　He　stepped　back　from　the　keyhole；　drew　himself　up　to　his　
full　height；　and　looked　from　one　to　another　of　the　three　bystanders；　in　mute　astonishment。　

“Oh；　you　know；　Mr。　Bumble；　he　must　be　mad；”　said　Mrs。　
Sowerberry。　“No　boy　in　half　his　sense　could　venture　to　speak　so　to　
you。”　

“It’s　not　madness；　ma’am；”　replied　Mr。　Bumble；　after　a　few　
moments　of　deep　meditation。　“It’s　meat。”　

“What？”　exclaimed　Mrs。　Sowerberry。　

“Meat；　ma’am；　meat；”　replied　Bumble；　with　stern　emphasis。　
“You’ve　overfed　him；　ma’am。　You’ve　raised　a　artificial　soul　and　
spirit　in　him；　ma’am；　unbecoming　a　person　of　his　condition；　as　the　
Board；　Mrs。　Sowerberry；　who　are　practical　philosophers；　will　tell　
you。　What　have　paupers　to　do　with　soul　or　spirit？　It’s　quite　enough　
that　we　let　’em　have　live　bodies。　If　you　had　kept　the　boy　on　gruel；　
ma’am；　this　would　never　have　happened。”　

“Dear；　dear！”　ejaculated　Mrs。　Sowerberry；　piously　raising　her　

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eyes　to　the　kitchen　ceiling；　“this　comes　of　being　liberal！”　

The　liberality　of　Mrs。　Sowerberry　to　Oliver　had　consisted　in　a　
profuse　bestowal　upon　him　of　all　the　dirty　odds　and　ends　which　
nobody　else　would　eat；　so　there　was　a　great　deal　of　meekness　and　
self…devotion　in　her　voluntarily　remaining　under　Mr。　Bumble’s　
heavy　accusation；　of　which；　to　do　her　justice；　she　was　wholly　
innocent；　in　thought；　word；　or　deed。　

“Ah！”　said　Mr。　Bumble；　when　the　lady　brought　her　eyes　down　
to　earth　again；　“the　only　thing　that　can　be　done　now；　that　I　know　
of；　is　to　leave　him　in　the　cellar　for　a　day　or　so；　till　he’s　a　little　
starved　down；　and　then　to　take　him　out；　and　to　keep　him　on　gruel　
all　through　his　apprenticeship。　He　comes　of　a　bad　family。　
Excitable　natures；　Mrs。　Sowerberry！　Both　the　nurse　and　doctor　
said；　that　that　mother　of　his　made　her　way　here；　against　difficulties　
and　pain　that　would　have　killed　any　well…disposed　woman；　weeks　
before。”　

At　this　point　of　Mr。　Bumble’s　discourse；　Oliver；　just　hearing　
enough　to　know　that　some　new　allusion　was　being　made　to　his　
mother；　recommenced　kicking；　with　a　violence　that　rendered　
every　other　sound　inaudible。　Sowerberry　returned　at　this　
juncture。　Oliver’s　offence　having　been　explained　to　him；　with　such　
exaggerations　as　the　ladies　thought　best　calculated　to　rouse　his　ire；　
he　unlocked　the　cellar…door　in　a　twinkling；　and　dragged　his　
rebellious　apprentice　out；　by　the　collar。　Oliver’s　clothes　had　been　
torn　in　the　beating　he　had　received；　his　face　was　bruised　and　
scratched；　and　his　hair　scattered　over　his　forehead。　The　angry　
flush　had　not　disappeared；　however；　and　when　he　was　pulled　out　
of　his　prison；　he　scowled　boldly　on　Noah；　and　looked　quite　
undismayed。　

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“Now；　you　are　a　nice　young　fellow；　ain’t　you？”　said　Sowerberry；　
giving　Oliver　a　shake；　and　a　box　on　the　ear。　

“He　called　my　mother　names；”　replied　Oliver。　

“Well；　and　what　if　he　did；　you　little；　ungrateful　wretch？”　said　
Mrs。　Sowerberry。　“She　deserved　what　he　said；　and　worse。”　

“She　didn’t；”　said　Oliver。　

“She　did；”　said　Mrs。　Sowerberry。　

“It’s　a　lie！”　said　Oliver。　

Mrs。　Sowerberry　burst　into　a　flood　of　tears。　

This　flood　of　tears　left　Mr。　Sowerberry　no　alternative。　If　he　had　
hesitated　for　one　instant　to　punish　Oliver　most　severely；　it　must　be　
quite　clear　to　every　experienced　reader　that　he　would　have　been；　
according　to　all　precedents　in　disputes　of　matrimony　established；　a　
brute；　an　unnatural　husband；　an　insulting　creature；　a　base　
imitation　of　a　man；　and　various　other　agreeable　characters　too　
numerous　for　recital　within　the　limits　of　this　chapter。　To　do　him　
justice；　he　was；　as　far　as　his　power　went—it　was　not　very　
extensive—kindly　disposed　towards　the　boy；　perhaps；　because　it　
was　his　interest　to　do　so；　perhaps；　because　his　wife　disliked　him。　
The　flood　of　tears；　however；　left　him　no　resource；　so　he　at　once　
gave　him　a　drubbing；　which　satisfied　even　Mrs。　Sowerberry　
herself；　and　rendered　Mr。　Bumble’s　subsequent　application　of　the　
parochial　cane；　rather　unnecessary。　For　the　rest　of　the　day；　he　was　
shut　up　in　the　back　kitchen；　in　company　with　a　pump　and　a　slice　of　
bread；　and；　at　night；　Mrs。　Sowerberry；　after　making　various　
remarks　outside　the　door；　by　no　means　complimentary　to　the　
memory　of　his　mother；　looked　into　the　room；　and；　amidst　the　jeers　
and　pointings　of　Noah　and　Charlotte；　ordered　him　upstairs　to　his　
dismal　bed。　

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It　was　not　until　he　was　left　alone　in　the　silence　and　stillness　of　
the　gloomy　workshop　of　the　undertaker；　that　Oliver　gave　way　to　
the　feelings　which　the　day’s　treatment　may　be　supposed　likely　to　
have　awakened　in　a　mere　child。　He　had　listened　to　their　taunts　
with　a　look　of　contempt；　he　had　borne　the　lash　without　a　cry；　for　
he　felt　that　pride　swelling　in　his　heart　which　would