Oliver Twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-9

was a peculiar pet and protégé of the elderly gentleman beforementioned.Mr. Dawkins’ appearance did not say a vast deal in favour of theCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twistcomforts which his patron’s interest obtained for those whom hetook under his protection; but, as he had a rather flighty anddissolute mode of conversing, and furthermore avowed thatamong his intimate friends he was better known by the sobriquetof “The Artful Dodger,” Oliver concluded that, being of adissipated and careless turn, the moral precept of his benefactorhad hitherto been thrown away upon him. Under this impression,he secretly resolved to cultivate the good opinion of the oldgentleman as quickly as possible; and, if he found the Dodgerincorrigible, as he more than half-suspected he should, to declinethe honour of his further acquaintance.As John Dawkins objected to their entering London beforenightfall, it was nearly seven o’clock when they reached theturnpike at Islington. They crossed from the Angel into St. John’sRoad; struck down the small street which terminates at Sadler’sWells Theatre; through Exmouth Street and Coppice Row; downthe little court by the side of the workhouse; across the classicground which once bore the name of Hockley-in-the-Hole; thenceinto Little Saffron Hill; and so into Saffron Hill the Great, alongwhich the Dodger scudded at a rapid pace, directing Oliver tofollow close at his heels.Although Oliver had enough to occupy his attention in keepingsight of his leader, he could not help bestowing a few hasty glanceson either side of the way, as he passed along. A dirtier or morewretched place he had never seen. The street was very narrowand muddy, and the air was impregnated with filthy odours. Therewere a good many small shops; but the only stock in tradeappeared to be heaps of children, who, even at that time of night,were crawling in and out at the doors, or screaming from theCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twistinside. The sole places that seemed to prosper amid the generalblight of the place, were the public-houses; and in them, the lowestorders of Irish were wrangling with might and main. Coveredways and yards, where here and there diverged from the mainstreet, disclosed little knots of houses, where drunken men andwomen were positively wallowing in filth; and from several of thedoorways, great ill-looking fellows were cautiously emerging,bound, to all appearance, on no very well-disposed or harmlesserrands.Oliver was just considering whether he hadn’t better run away,when they reached the bottom of the hill. His conductor, catchinghim by the arm, pushed open the door of a house near Field Lane;and, drawing him into the passage, closed it behind them.“Now, then!” cried a voice from below, in reply to a whistlefrom the Dodger.“Plummy and slam!” was the reply.This seemed to be some watchword or signal that all was right;for the light of a feeble candle gleamed on the wall at the remoteend of the passage; and a man’s face peeped out, from where abalustrade of the old kitchen staircase had been broken away.“There’s two on you,” said the man, thrusting the candlefarther out, and shading his eyes with his hand. “Who’s the t’otherone?”“A new pal,” replied Jack Dawkins, pulling Oliver forward.“Where did he come from?”“Greenland. Is Fagin upstairs?”“Yes, he’s a-sortin’ the wipes. Up with you!” The candle wasdrawn back, and the face disappeared.Oliver, groping his way with one hand, and having the otherCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twistfirmly grasped by his companion, ascended with much difficultythe dark and broken stairs; which his conductor mounted with anease and expedition that showed that he was well acquainted withthem. He threw open the door of a back room, and drew Oliver inafter him.The walls and ceiling of the room were perfectly black, with ageand dirt. There was a deal table before the fire: upon which were acandle, stuck in a ginger-beer bottle, two or three pewter pots, aloaf and butter, and a plate. In a frying-pan, which was on the fire,and which was secured to the mantel-shelf by a string, somesausages were cooking; and standing over them, with a toasting-fork in his hand, was a very old, shrivelled Jew, whose villainous-looking and repulsive face was obscured by a quantity of mattedred hair. He was dressed in a greasy flannel gown, with his throatbare; and seemed to be dividing his attention between the frying-pan and the clothes-horse, over which a great number of silkhandkerchiefs were hanging. Several rough beds made of oldsacks, were huddled side by side on the floor. Seated round thetable were four or five boys, none older than the Dodger, smokinglong clay pipes, and drinking spirits with the air of middle-agedmen. These all crowded about their associate as he whispered afew words to the Jew; and then turned round and grinned atOliver. So did the Jew himself, toasting-fork in hand.“This is him, Fagin,” said Jack Dawkins; “my friend, OliverTwist.”The Jew grinned; and, making a low obeisance to Oliver, tookhim by the hand, and hoped he should have the honour of hisintimate acquaintance. Upon this, the young gentlemen with thepipes came round him, and shook both his hands very hard—Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twistespecially the one in which he held his little bundle. One younggentleman was very anxious to hang up his cap for him; andanother was so obliging as to put his hands in his pockets, in orderthat, as he was very tired, he might not have the trouble ofemptying them, himself, when he went to bed. These civilitieswould probably have been extended much further, but for a liberalexercise of the Jew’s toasting-fork on the heads and shoulders ofthe affectionate youths who offered them.“We are very glad to see you, Oliver—very,” said the Jew.“Dodger, take off the sausages; and draw a tub near the fire forOliver. Ah, you’re a-staring at the pocket-handkerchiefs! eh, mydear! There are a good many of ’em, ain’t there? We’ve just looked’em out, ready for the wash; that’s all, Oliver; that’s all. Ha! ha!ha!”The latter part of this speech was hailed by a boisterous shoutfrom all the hopeful pupils of the merry old gentleman. In themidst of which, they went to supper.Oliver ate his share, and the Jew then mixed him a glass of hotgin-and-water, telling him he must drink it off directly, becauseanother gentleman wanted the tumbler. Oliver did as he wasdesired. Immediately afterwards he felt himself gently lifted on toone of the sacks; and then he sank into a deep sleep.Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver TwistChapter 9Containing Further Particulars Concerning ThePleasant Old Gentleman, And His Hopeful Pupils.It was late next morning when Oliver awoke, from a sound,long sleep. There was no other person in the room but the oldJew, who was boiling some coffee in a saucepan for breakfast,and whistling softly to himself as he stirred it round and round,with an iron spoon. He would stop every now and then to listenwhen there was the least noise below; and when he had satisfiedhimself, he would go on, whistling and stirring again, as before.Although Oliver had roused himself from sleep, he was notthoroughly awake. There is a drowsy state, between sleeping andwaking, when you dream more in five minutes with your eyes half-open, and yourself half-conscious of everything that is passingaround you, than you would in five nights with your eyes fastclosed, and your senses wrapped in perfect unconsciousness. Atsuch times, a mortal knows just enough of what his mind is doing,to form some glimmering conception of its mighty powers, itsbounding from earth and spurning time and space, when freedfrom the restraint of its corporeal associate.Oliver was precisely in this condition. He saw the Jew with hishalf-closed eyes; heard his low whistling; and recognised thesound of the spoon grating against the saucepan’s sides; and yetthe self-same senses were mentally engaged, at the same time, inbusy action with almost everybody he had ever known.When the coffee was done, the Jew drew the saucepan to theCharles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twisthob. Standing, then, in an irresolute attitude for a few minutes, asif he did not well know how to employ himself, he turned roundand looked at Oliver, and called him by his name. He did notanswer, and was to all appearance asleep.After satisfying himself upon this head, the Jew stepped gentlyto the door; which he fastened. He then drew forth, as it seemed toOliver, from some trap in the floor, a small box, which he placedcarefully on the table. His eyes glistened as he raised the lid, andlooked in. Dragging an old chair to the table, he sat down; andtook from it a magnificent gold watch, sparkling with jewels.“Aha!” said the Jew, shrugging up his shoulders, and distortingevery feature with a hideous grin. “Clever dogs! Clever dogs!Staunch to the last! Never told the old parson where they were.Never peached upon old Fagin! And why should they? It wouldn’thave loosened the knot, or kept the drop up, a minute longer. No,no, no! Fine fellows! Fine fellows!”With these, and other muttered reflections of the like nature,the Jew once more deposited the watch in its place of safety. Atleast half a dozen more were severally drawn forth from the samebox, and surveyed with equal pleasure; besides rings, brooches,bracelets, and other articles of jewellery, of such magnificentmaterials, and costly workmanship, that Oliver had no idea, evenof their names.Having replaced these trinkets, the Jew took out another; sosmall that it lay in the palm of his hand. There seemed to be somevery minute inscription on it; for the Jew laid it flat upon the table,and, shading it with his hand, pored over it, long and earnestly. Atlength he put it down, as if despairing of success; and, leaningback in his chair, muttered:Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist“What a line thing capital punishment is! Dead men neverrepent; dead men never bring awkward stories to light. Ah, it’s afine thing for the trade! Five of ’em strung up in a row, and noneleft to play booty, or turn white-livered!”As the Jew uttered these words, his bright, dark eyes, whichhad been staring vacantly before him, fell on Oliver’s face; theboy’s eyes were fixed on his in mute curiosity; and although therecognition was only for an instant—for the briefest space of timethat can possibly be conceived—it was enough to show the oldman that he had been observed. He closed the lid of the box with aloud crash; and, laying his hand on a bread-knife which was on thetable, started furiously up. He trembled very much though; for,even in his terror, Oliver could see that the knife quivered in theair.“What’s that?” said the Jew. “What do you watch me for? Whyare you awake? What have you seen? Speak out, boy! Quick—quick! for your life!”“I wasn’t able to sleep any longer, sir,” replied Oliver meekly. “Iam very sorry if I have disturbed you, sir.”“You were not awake an hour ago?” said the Jew, scowlingfiercely on the boy.“No! No, indeed!” replied Oliver.“Are you sure?” cried the Jew, with a still fiercer look thanbefore, and a threatening attitude.“Upon my word I was not, sir,” replied Oliver earnestly. “I wasnot, indeed, sir.”“Tush, tush, my dear!” said the Jew, abruptly resuming his oldmanner, and playing with the knife a little, before he laid it down;as if to induce the belief that he had caught it up, in mere sport.Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist“Of course I know that, my dear. I only tried to frighten you.You’re a brave boy. Ha! ha! you’re a brave boy, Oliver!” The Jewrubbed his hands with a chuckle, but glanced uneasily at the box,notwithstanding.“Did you see any of these pretty things, my dear?” said the Jew,laying his hand upon it after a short pause.“Yes, sir,” replied Oliver.‘‘Ah!” said the Jew, turning rather pale. “They—they’re mine,Oliver; my little property. All I have to live upon, in my old age.The folks call me a miser, my dear. Only a miser; that’s all.”Oliver thought the old gentleman must be a decided miser tolive in such a dirty place, with so many watches; but, thinking thatperhaps his fondness for the Dodger and the other boys cost him agood deal of money, he only cast a deferential look at the Jew, andasked if he might get up.“Certainly, my dear, certainly,” replied the old gentleman.“Stay. There’s a pitcher of water in the corner by the door.Bring it here: and I’ll give you a basin to wash in, my dear.”Oliver got up; walked across the room; and stooped for aninstant to raise the pitcher. When he turned his head, the box wasgone.He had scarcely washed himself, and made everything tidy, byemptying the basin out of the window, agreeable to the Jew’sdirections, when the Dodger returned, accompanied by a verysprightly young friend, whom Oliver had seen smoking on theprevious night, and who was now formally introduced to him asCharley Bates. The four sat down, to breakfast, on the coffee, andsome hot rolls and ham which the Dodger had brought home inthe crown of his hat.Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver Twist“Well,” said the Jew, glancing slyly at Oliver, and addressinghimself to the Dodger, “I hope you’ve been at work this morning,my dears?”“Hard,” replied the Dodger.“As nails,” added Charley Bates.“Good boys, good boys!” said the Jew. “What have you got,Dodger?”“A couple of pocket-books,” replied that young gentleman.“Lined?” inquired the Jew, with eagerness.“Pretty well,” replied the Dodger, producing two pocket-books;one green, and the other red.“Not so heavy as they might be,” said the Jew, after looking atthe insides carefully; “but very neat and nicely made. Ingeniousworkman, ain’t he, Oliver?”“Very, indeed, sir,” said Oliver. At which Mr. Charles Bateslaughed uproariously; very much to the amazement of Oliver, whosaw nothing to laugh at, in anything that had passed.“And what have you got, my dear?” said Fagin to CharleyBates.“Wipes,” replied Master Bates; at the same time producing fourpocket-handkerchiefs.“Well,” said the Jew, inspecting them closely; “they’re verygood ones—very. You haven’t marked them well, though, Charley;so the marks shall be picked out with a needle, and we’ll teachOliver how to do it. Shall us, Oliver, eh? Ha! ha! ha!”“If you please, sir,” said Oliver.“You’d like to be able to make pocket-handkerchiefs as easy asCharley Bates, wouldn’t you, my dear?” said the Jew.“Very much, indeed, if you’ll teach me, sir,” replied Oliver.Charles Dickens ElecBook ClassicsOliver TwistMaster Bates saw something so exquisitely ludicrous in thisreply, that he burst into another laugh; which laugh, meeting thecoffee he was drinking, and carrying it down some wrong channel,very nearly terminated in his premature suffocation.“He is so jolly green!” said Charley when he recovered, as anapology to the company for his unpolite behaviour.The Dodger said nothing, but he smoothed Oliver’s hair overhis eyes, and said he’d know better, by and by; upon which the oldgentleman, observing Oliver’s colour mounting, changed thesubject by asking whether there had been much of a crowd at theexecution that morning. This made him wonder more and more;for it was plain from the replies of the two boys that they had bothbeen there; and Oliver naturally wondered how they couldpossibly have found time to be so very industrious.When the breakfast was cleared away, the merry old gentlemanand the two boys played at a very curious and uncommon game,which was performed in this way. The merry old gentleman,placing a snuff-box in one pocket of his trousers, a note-case in theother, and a watch in his waistcoat pocket, with a guard-chainround his neck, and sticking a mock diamond pin in his shirt,buttoned his coat tightly round him, and putting his spectacle-caseand handkerchief in his pockets, trotted up and down the roomwith a stick, in imitation of the manner in which old gentlemenwalk about the streets any hour in the day. Sometimes he stopped