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