oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第63部分

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“He　seems　in　high　spirits　and　happy；”　she　said；　at　length。　“I　
feared　for　a　time　he　might　be　otherwise。　I　was　mistaken。　I　am　very；　
very　glad。”　

Tears　are　signs　of　gladness　as　well　as　grief；　but　those　which　
coursed　down　Rose’s　face；　as　she　sat　pensively　at　the　window；　still　
gazing　in　the　same　direction；　seemed　to　tell　more　of　sorrow　than　of　
joy。　

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Chapter　37　

In　Which　The　Reader　May　Perceive　A　Contrast；　Not
Uncommon　In　Matrimonial　Cases。


Mr。　Bumble　sat　in　the　workhouse　parlour；　with　his　eyes　
moodily　fixed　on　the　cheerless　grate；　whence；　as　it　was　
summer　time；　no　brighter　gleam　proceeded；　than　the　
reflection　of　certain　sickly　rays　of　the　sun；　which　were　sent　back　
from　its　cold　and　shining　surface。　A　paper　fly…cage　dangled　from　
the　ceiling；　to　which　he　occasionally　raised　his　eyes　in　gloomy　
thought；　and；　as　the　heedless　insects　hovered　round　the　gaudy　
network；　Mr。　Bumble　would　heave　a　deep　sigh；　while　a　more　
gloomy　shadow　overspread　his　countenance。　Mr。　Bumble　was　
meditating；　it　might　be　that　the　insects　brought　to　mind　some　
painful　passage　in　his　own　past　life。　
Nor　was　Mr。　Bumble’s　gloom　the　only　thing　calculated　to　
awaken　a　pleasing　melancholy　in　the　bosom　of　a　spectator。　There　
were　not　wanting　other　appearances；　and　those　closely　connected　
with　his　own　person；　which　announced　that　a　great　change　had　
taken　place　in　the　position　of　his　affairs。　The　laced　coat；　and　the　
cocked　hat；　where　were　they？　He　still　wore　knee…breeches；　and　
dark　cotton　stockings　on　his　nether　limbs；　but　they　were　not　the　
breeches。　The　coat　was　wide…skirted；　and　in　that　respect　like　the　
coat；　but；　oh；　how　different！　The　mighty　cocked　hat　was　replaced　
by　a　modest　round　one。　Mr。　Bumble　was　no　longer　a　beadle。　

There　are　some　promotions　in　life；　which；　independent　of　the　
more　substantial　rewards　they　offer；　acquire　peculiar　value　and　

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dignity　from　the　coats　and　waistcoats　connected　with　them。　A　
field…marshal　has　his　uniform；　a　bishop　his　silk　apron；　a　counsellor　
his　silk　gown；　a　beadle　his　cocked　hat。　Strip　the　bishop　of　his　
apron；　or　the　beadle　of　his　hat　and　lace；　what　are　they？　Men。　Mere　
men。　Dignity；　and　even　holiness　too；　sometimes；　are　more　
questions　of　coat　and　waistcoat　than　some　people　imagine。　

Mr。　Bumble　had　married　Mrs。　Corney；　and　was　master　of　the　
workhouse。　Another　beadle　had　come　into　power。　On　him　the　
cocked　hat；　gold…laced　coat；　and　staff；　had　all　three　descended。　

“And　tomorrow　two　months　it　was　done！”　said　Mr。　Bumble；　
with　a　sigh。　“It　seems　a　age。”　

Mr。　Bumble　might　have　meant　that　he　had　concentrated　a　
whole　existence　of　happiness　into　the　short　space　of　eight　weeks；　
but　the　sigh—there　was　a　vast　deal　of　meaning　in　the　sigh。　

“I　sold　myself；”　said　Mr。　Bumble；　pursuing　the　same　train　of　
reflection；　“for　six　tea…spoons；　a　pair　of　sugar…tongs；　and；　a　milk…
pot；　with　a　small　quantity　of　second…hand　furniture　and　twenty　
pound　in　money。　I　went　very　reasonable。　Cheap；　dirt　cheap！”　

“Cheap！”　cried　a　shrill　voice　in　Mr。　Bumble’s　ear；　“you　would　
have　been　dear　at　any　price；　and　dear　enough　I　paid　for　you；　Lord　
above　knows　that！”　

Mr。　Bumble　turned；　and　encountered　the　face　of　his　interesting　
consort；　who；　imperfectly　comprehending　the　few　words　she　had　
overheard　of　his　complaint；　had　hazarded　the　foregoing　remark　at　
a　venture。　

“Mrs。　Bumble；　ma’am！”　said　Mr。　Bumble；　with　sentimental　
sternness。　

“Well？”　cried　the　lady。　

“Have　the　goodness　to　look　at　me；”　said　Mr。　Bumble；　fixing　his　

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eyes　upon　her。　（“If　she　stands　such　a　eye　as　that；”　said　Mr。　Bumble　
to　himself；　“she　can　stand　anything。　It　is　a　eye　I　never　knew　to　fail　
with　paupers。　If　it　fails　with　her；　my　power　is　gone。”）　Whether　an　
exceedingly　small　expansion　of　eye　be　sufficient　to　quell　paupers；　
who；　being　lightly　fed；　are　in　no　very　high　condition；　or　whether　
the　late　Mrs。　Corney　was　particularly　proof　against　eagle　glances；　
are　matters　of　opinion。　The　matter　of　fact　is；　that　the　matron　was　
in　no　way　overpowered　by　Mr。　Bumble’s　scowl；　but；　on　the　
contrary；　treated　it　with　great　disdain；　and　even　raised　a　laugh　
thereat；　which　sounded　as　though　it　were　genuine。　

On　hearing　this　most　unexpected　sound；　Mr。　Bumble　looked；　
first　incredulous；　and　afterwards　amazed。　He　then　relapsed　into　
his　former　state；　nor　did　he　rouse　himself　until　his　attention　was　
again　awakened　by　the　voice　of　his　partner。　

“Are　you　going　to　sit　snoring　there；　all　day？”　inquired　Mrs。　
Bumble。　

“I　am　going　to　sit　here；　as　long　as　I　think　proper；　ma’am；”　
rejoined　Mr。　Bumble；　“and　although　I　was　not　snoring；　I　shall　
snore；　gape；　sneeze；　laugh；　or　cry；　as　the　humour　strikes　me；　such　
being　my　prerogative。　

“Your　prerogative！”　sneered　Mrs。　Bumble；　with　ineffable　
contempt。　

“I　said　the　word；　ma’am；”　said　Mr。　Bumble。　“The　prerogative　of　
a　man　is　to　command。”　

“And　what’s　the　prerogative　of　a　woman；　in　the　name　of　
goodness？”　cried　the　relict　of　Mr。　Corney　deceased。　

“To　obey；　ma’am；”　thundered　Mr。　Bumble。　“Your　late　
unfortunate　husband　should　have　taught　it　you；　and　then；　
perhaps；　he　might　have　been　alive　now。　I　wish　he　was；　poor　man！”　

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Mrs。　Bumble；　seeing　at　a　glance；　that　the　decisive　moment　had　
now　arrived；　and　that　a　blow　struck　for　the　mastership　on　one　side　
or　other；　must　necessarily　be　final　and　conclusive；　no　sooner　heard　
this　allusion　to　the　dead　and　gone；　than　she　dropped　into　a　chair；　
and　with　a　loud　scream　that　Mr。　Bumble　was　a　hard…hearted　
brute；　fell　into　a　paroxysm　of　tears。　

But　tears　were　not　the　things　to　find　their　way　to　Mr。　Bumble’s　
soul；　his　heart　was　waterproof。　they　were　less　troublesome　than　a　
manual　assault；　but　she　was　quite　prepared　to　make　trial　of　the　
latter　mode　of　proceeding；　as　Mr。　Bumble　was　not　long　in　
discovering。　

The　first　proof　he　experienced　of　the　fact；　was　conveyed　in　a　
hollow　sound；　immediately　succeeded　by　the　sudden　flying　off　of　
his　hat　to　the　opposite　end　of　the　room。　This　preliminary　
proceeding　lay　bare　his　head；　the　expert　lady；　clasping　him　tightly　
round　the　throat　with　one　hand；　inflicted　a　shower　of　blows　（dealt　
with　singular　vigour　and　dexterity）　upon　it　with　the　other。　This　
done；　she　created　a　little　variety　by　scratching　his　face；　and　tearing　
his　hair；　and；　having　by　this　time　inflicted　as　much　punishment　as　
she　deemed　necessary　for　the　offence；　she　pushed　him　over　a　
chair；　which　was　luckily　well　situated　for　the　purpose；　and　defied　
him　to　talk　about　his　prerogative　again；　if　he　dared。　

“Get　up！”　said　Mrs。　Bumble；　in　a　voice　of　command。　“And　take　
yourself　away　from　here；　unless　you　want　me　to　do　something　
desperate。”　

Mr。　Bumble　rose　with　a　very　rueful　countenance—wondering　
much　what　something　desperate　might　be。　Picking　up　his　hat；　he　
looked　towards　the　door。　

“Are　you　going？”　demanded　Mrs。　Bumble。　

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“Certainly；　my　dear；　certainly；”　rejoined　Mr。　Bumble；　making　a　
quicker　motion　towards　the　door。　“I　didn’t　intend　to—I’m　going；　
my　dear！　You　are　so　very　violent；　that　really　I—”　

At　this　instant；　Mrs。　Bumble　stepped　hastily　forward　to　replace　
the　carpet；　which　had　been　kicked　up　in　the　scuffle。　Mr。　Bumble　
immediately　darted　out　of　the　room；　without　bestowing　another　
thought　on　his　unfinished　sentence；　leaving　the　late　Mrs。　Corney　
in　full　possession　of　the　field。　

Mr。　Bumble　was　fairly　taken　by　surprise；　and　fairly　beaten。　He　
had　a　decided　propensity　for　bullying；　derived　no　inconsiderable　
pleasure　from　the　exercise　of　petty　cruelty；　and；　consequently；　was　
（it　is　needless　to　say）　a　coward。　This　is　by　no　means　a　
disparagement　to　his　character；　for　many　official　personages；　who　
are　held　in　high　respect　and　admiration；　are　the　victims　of　similar　
infirmities。　The　remark　is　made；　indeed；　rather　in　his　favour　than　
otherwise；　and　with　a　view　of　impressing　the　reader　with　a　just　
sense　of　his　qualifications　for　office。　

But　the　measure　of　his　degradation　was　not　yet　full。　After　
making　a　tour　of　the　house；　and　thinking；　for　the　first　time；　that　
the　poor…laws　really　were　too　hard　on　people；　and　that　men　who　
ran　away　from　their　wives；　leaving　them　chargeable　to　the　parish；　
ought；　in　justice；　to　be　visited　with　no　punishment　at　all；　but　rather　
rewarded　as　meritorious　individuals　who　had　suffered　much；　Mr。　
Bumble　came　to　a　room　where　some　of　the　female　paupers　were　
usually　employed　in　washing　the　parish　linen；　whence　the　sound　
of　voices　in　conversation；　now　proceeded。　

“Hem！”　said　Mr。　Bumble；　summoning　up　all　his　native　dignity。　
“These　women　at　least　shall　continue　to　respect　the　prerogative。　
Hollo！　hollo；　there！　What　do　you　mean　by　this　noise；　you　hussies？”　

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With　these　words；　Mr。　Bumble　opened　the　door；　and　walked　in　
with　a　very　fierce　and　angry　manner；　which　was　at　once　
exchanged　for　a　most　humiliated　and　cowering　air；　as　his　eyes　
unexpectedly　rested　on　the　form　of　his　lady　wife。　

“My　dear；”　said　Mr。　Bumble；　“I　didn’t　know　you　were　here。”　

“Didn’t　know　I　was　here！”　repeated　Mrs。　Bumble。　“What　do　you　
do　here？”　

“I　thought　they　were　talking　rather　too　much　to　be　doing　their　
work　properly；　my　dear；”　replied　Mr。　Bumble；　glancing　
distractedly　at　a　couple　of　old　women　at　the　wash…tub；　who　were　
comparing　notes　of　admiration　at　the　workhouse…master’s　
humility。　

“You　thought　they　were　talking　too　much？”　said　Mrs。　Bumble。　
“What　business　is　it　of　yours？”　

“Why；　my　dear—”　urged　Mr。　Bumble　submissively。　

“What　business　is　it　of　yours？”　demanded　Mrs。　Bumble　again。　

“It’s　very　true；　you’re　matron　here；　my　dear；”　submitted　Mr。　
Bumble；　“but　I　thought　you　mightn’t　be　in　the　way　just　then。”　

“I’ll　tell　you　what；　Mr。　Bumble；”　returned　his　lady。　“We　don’t　
want　any　of　your　interference。　You’re　a　gre