按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
'Not that I ever heard of。' 'I know you're not。 I asked your mother；
sir。 She has too much character to let a chance escape her。'
'Supposing I had been of the Clennams of Cornwall？' 'You'd have heard of
something to your advantage。'
'Indeed！ I have heard of little enough to my advantage for some time。'
'There's a Cornish property going a begging； sir； and not a Cornish
Clennam to have it for the asking；' said Pancks； taking his note…book
from his breast pocket and putting it in again。 'I turn off here。 I wish
you good night。'
'Good night！' said Clennam。 But the Tug； suddenly lightened； and
untrammelled by having any weight in tow； was already puffing away into
the distance。
They had crossed Smithfield together； and Clennam was left alone at the
corner of Barbican。 He had no intention of presenting himself in his
mother's dismal room that night； and could not have felt more depressed
and cast away if he had been in a wilderness。 He turned slowly down
Aldersgate Street； and was pondering his way along towards Saint Paul's；
purposing to e into one of the great thoroughfares for the sake of
their light and life； when a crowd of people flocked towards him on the
same pavement； and he stood aside against a shop to let them pass。 As
they came up； he made out that they were gathered around a something
that was carried on men's shoulders。 He soon saw that it was a litter；
hastily made of a shutter or some such thing； and a recumbent figure
upon it； and the scraps of conversation in the crowd； and a muddy bundle
carried by one man； and a muddy hat carried by another； informed him
that an accident had occurred。 The litter stopped under a lamp before it
had passed him half…a…dozen paces； for some readjustment of the burden；
and； the crowd stopping too； he found himself in the midst of the array。
'An accident going to the Hospital？' he asked an old man beside him； who
stood shaking his head； inviting conversation。
'Yes；' said the man； 'along of them Mails。 They ought to be prosecuted
and fined； them Mails。 They e a racing out of Lad Lane and Wood
Street at twelve or fourteen mile a hour； them Mails do。 The only wonder
is； that people ain't killed oftener by them Mails。'
'This person is not killed； I hope？'
'I don't know！' said the man； 'it an't for the want of a will in them
Mails； if he an't。' The speaker having folded his arms； and set in
fortably to address his depreciation of them Mails to any of the
bystanders who would listen； several voices； out of pure sympathy with
the sufferer； confirmed him； one voice saying to Clennam； 'They're a
public nuisance； them Mails； sir；' another； 'I see one on 'em pull up
within half a inch of a boy； last night；' another； 'I see one on 'em
go over a cat； sir……and it might have been your own mother；' and all
representing； by implication； that if he happened to possess any public
influence； he could not use it better than against them Mails。
'Why； a native Englishman is put to it every night of his life； to save
his life from them Mails；' argued the first old man； 'and he knows when
they're a ing round the corner； to tear him limb from limb。 What can
you expect from a poor foreigner who don't know nothing about 'em！'
'Is this a foreigner？' said Clennam； leaning forward to look。
In the midst of such replies as 'Frenchman； sir；' 'Porteghee； sir；'
'Dutchman； sir；' 'Prooshan； sir；' and other conflicting testimony； he
now heard a feeble voice asking； both in Italian and in French； for
water。 A general remark going round； in reply； of 'Ah； poor fellow；
he says he'll never get over it； and no wonder！' Clennam begged to be
allowed to pass； as he understood the poor creature。 He was immediately
handed to the front； to speak to him。
'First； he wants some water；' said he； looking round。 （A dozen good
fellows dispersed to get it。） 'Are you badly hurt； my friend？' he asked
the man on the litter； in Italian。
'Yes； sir； yes； yes； yes。 It's my leg； it's my leg。 But it pleases me to
hear the old music； though I am very bad。'
'You are a traveller！ Stay！ See； the water！ Let me give you some。' They
had rested the litter on a pile of paving stones。 It was at a convenient
height from the ground； and by stooping he could lightly raise the head
with one hand and hold the glass to his lips with the other。 A little；
muscular； brown man； with black hair and white teeth。 A lively face；
apparently。 Earrings in his ears。
'That's well。 You are a traveller？'
'Surely； sir。'
'A stranger in this city？'
'Surely； surely； altogether。 I am arrived this unhappy evening。'
'From what country？' 'Marseilles。'
'Why； see there！ I also！ Almost as much a stranger here as you； though
born here； I came from Marseilles a little while ago。 Don't be cast
down。' The face looked up at him imploringly； as he rose from wiping it；
and gently replaced the coat that covered the writhing figure。 'I won't
leave you till you shall be well taken care of。 Courage！ You will be
very much better half an hour hence。'
'Ah！ Altro； Altro！' cried the poor little man； in a faintly incredulous
tone； and as they took him up； hung out his right hand to give the
forefinger a back…handed shake in the air。
Arthur Clennam turned； and walking beside the litter； and saying an
encouraging word now and then； acpanied it to the neighbouring
hospital of Saint Bartholomew。 None of the crowd but the bearers and
he being admitted； the disabled man was soon laid on a table in a cool；
methodical way； and carefully examined by a surgeon who was as near at
hand； and as ready to appear as Calamity herself。 'He hardly knows an
English word；' said Clennam； 'is he badly hurt？'
'Let us know all about it first；' said the surgeon； continuing his
examination with a businesslike delight in it； 'before we pronounce。'
After trying the leg with a finger； and two fingers； and one hand and
two hands； and over and under； and up and down； and in this direction
and in that； and approvingly remarking on the points of interest to
another gentleman who joined him； the surgeon at last clapped the
patient on the shoulder； and said； 'He won't hurt。 He'll do very well。
It's difficult enough； but we shall not want him to part with his leg
this time。' Which Clennam interpreted to the patient； who was full of
gratitude； and； in his demonstrative way； kissed both the interpreter's
hand and the surgeon's several times。
'It's a serious injury； I suppose？' said Clennam。
'Ye…es；' replied the surgeon； with the thoughtful pleasure of an artist
contemplating the work upon his easel。 'Yes； it's enough。 There's a
pound fracture above the knee； and a dislocation below。 They are
both of a beautiful kind。' He gave the patient a friendly clap on the
shoulder again； as if he really felt that he was a very good fellow
indeed； and worthy of all mendation for having broken his leg in a
manner interesting to science。
'He speaks French？' said the surgeon。
'Oh yes； he speaks French。'
'He'll be at no loss here； then。……You have only to bear a little pain
like a brave fellow； my friend； and to be thankful that all goes as
well as it does；' he added； in that tongue； 'and you'll w