狄更斯的小说特点 狄更斯双语小说:《董贝父子》第32章Part 2

狄更斯双语小说:《董贝父子》第32章Part 2  

'Here's a smart lad for you!' cried the Captain eyeing him sternly
'as don't know his own native alphabet! Go away a bit and e back again alternate - d'ye understand that?'
'Yes
Captain
' said Rob.
'Very good my lad
then
' said the Captain
relenting. 'Do it!'
That he might do it the better
Captain Cuttle sometimes condescended
of an evening after the shop was shut
to rehearse this scene: retiring into the parlour for the purpose
as into the lodgings of a supposititious MacStinger
and carefully observing the behaviour of his ally
from the hole of espial he had cut in the wall. Rob the Grinder discharged himself of his duty with so much exactness and judgment
when thus put to the proof
that the Captain presented him
at divers times
with seven sixpences
in token of satisfaction; and gradually felt stealing over his spirit the resignation of a man who had made provision for the worst
and taken every reasonable precaution against an unrelenting fate.
Nevertheless
the Captain did not tempt ill-fortune
by being a whit more venturesome than before. Though he considered it a point of good breeding in himself
as a general friend of the family
to attend Mr Dombey's wedding (of which he had heard from Mr Perch)
and to show that gentleman a pleasant and approving countenance from the gallery
he had repaired to the church in a hackney cabriolet with both windows up; and might have scrupled even to make that venture
in his dread of Mrs MacStinger
but that the lady's attendance on the ministry of the Reverend Melchisedech rendered it peculiarly unlikely that she would be found in munion with the Establishment.
The Captain got safe home again
and fell into the ordinary routine of his new life
without encountering any more direct alarm from the enemy
than was suggested to him by the daily bons in the street. But other subjects began to lay heavy on the Captain's mind. Walter's ship was still unheard of. No news came of old Sol Gills. Florence did not even know of the old man's disappearance
and Captain Cuttle had not the heart to tell her. Indeed the Captain
as his own hopes of the generous
handsome
gallant-hearted youth
whom he had loved
according to his rough manner
from a child
began to fade
and faded more and more from day to day
shrunk with instinctive pain from the thought of exchanging a word with Florence. If he had had good news to carry to her
the honest Captain would have braved the newly decorated house and splendid furniture - though these
connected with the lady he had seen at church
were awful to him - and made his way into her presence. With a dark horizon gathering around their mon hopes
however
that darkened every hour
the Captain almost felt as if he were a new misfortune and affliction to her; and was scarcely less afraid of a visit from Florence
than from Mrs MacStinger herself.
It was a chill dark autumn evening
and Captain Cuttle had ordered a fire to be kindled in the little back parlour
now more than ever like the cabin of a ship. The rain fell fast
and the wind blew hard; and straying out on the house-top by that stormy bedroom of his old friend
to take an observation of the weather
the Captain's heart died within him
when he saw how wild and desolate it was. Not that he associated the weather of that time with poor Walter's destiny
or doubted that if Providence had doomed him to be lost and shipwrecked
it was over
long ago; but that beneath an ouard influence
quite distinct from the subject-matter of his thoughts
the Captain's spirits sank
and his hopes turned pale
as those of wiser men had often done before him
and will often do again.
Captain Cuttle
addressing his face to the sharp wind and slanting rain
looked up at the heavy scud that was flying fast over the wilderness of house-tops
and looked for something cheery there in vain. The prospect near at hand was no better. In sundry tea-chests and other rough boxes at his feet
the pigeons of Rob the Grinder were cooing like so many dismal breezes getting up. A crazy weathercock of a Midshipman
with a telescope at his eye
once visible from the street
but long bricked out
creaked and plained upon his rusty pivot as the shrill blast spun him round and round
and sported with him cruelly. Upon the Captain's coarse blue vest the cold raindrops started like steel beads; and he could hardly maintain himself aslant against the stiff Nor'-Wester that came pressing against him
importunate to topple him over the parapet
and throw him on the pavement below. If there were any Hope alive that evening
the Captain thought
as he held his hat on
it certainly kept house
and wasn't out of doors; so the Captain
shaking his head in a despondent manner
went in to look for it.
Captain Cuttle descended slowly to the little back parlour
and
seated in his accustomed chair
looked for it in the fire; but it was not there
though the fire was bright. He took out his tobacco-box and pipe
and posing himself to smoke
looked for it in the red glow from the bowl
and in the wreaths of vapour that curled upward from his lips; but there was not so much as an atom of the rust of Hope's anchor in either. He tried a glass of grog; but melancholy truth was at the bottom of that well
and he couldn't finish it. He made a turn or o in the shop
and looked for Hope among the instruments; but they obstinately worked out reckonings for the missing ship
in spite of any opposition he could offer
that ended at the bottom of the lone sea.
The wind still rushing
and the rain still pattering
against the closed shutters
the Captain brought to before the wooden Midshipman upon the counter
and thought
as he dried the little officer's uniform with his sleeve
how many years the Midshipman had seen
during which few changes - hardly any - had transpired among his ship's pany; how the changes had e all together
one day
as it might be; and of what a sweeping kind they web Here was the little society of the back parlour broken up
and scattered far and wide. Here was no audience for Lovely Peg
even if there had been anybody to sing it
which there was not; for the Captain was as morally certain that nobody but he could execute that ballad
he was that he had not the spirit
under existing circumstances
to attempt it. There was no bright face of 'Wal'r' In the house; - here the Captain transferred his sleeve for a moment from the Midshipman's uniform to his own cheek; - the familiar wig and buttons of Sol Gills were a vision of the past; Richard Whittington was knocked on the head; and every plan and project in connexion with the Midshipman
lay drifting
without mast or rudder
on the waste of waters.
As the Captain
with a dejected face
stood revolving these thoughts
and polishing the Midshipman
partly in the tenderness of old acquaintance
and partly in the absence of his mind
a knocking at the shop-door municated a frightful start to the frame of Rob the Grinder
seated on the counter
whose large eyes had been intently fixed on the Captain's face
and who had been debating within himself
for the five hundredth time
whether the Captain could have done a murder
that he had such an evil conscience
and was always running away.
'What's that?' said Captain Cuttle
softly.
'Somebody's knuckles
Captain
' answered Rob the Grinder.