有声名著之双城记 Chapter04
CHAPTER IVThe Preparation
WHEN the mail got successfully to Dover, in the course of theforenoon, the head drawer at the Royal George Hotel opened thecoach-door as his custom was. He did it with some flourish ofceremony, for a mail journey from London in winter was anachievement to congratulate an adventurous traveller upon.
By that time, there was only one adventurous traveller leftto be congratulated; for the two others had been set down attheir respective roadside destinations. The mildewy inside ofthe coach, with its damp and dirty straw, its disagreeablesmell, and its obscurity, was rather like a larger dog-kennel.
Mr. Lorry, the passenger, shaking himself out of it in chainsof straw, a tangle of shaggy wrapper, flapping hat, and muddylegs, was rather like a larger sort of dog.
`There will be a packet to Calais, to-morrow, drawer?'
`Yes, sir, if the weather holds and the wind sets tolerablefair. The tide will serve pretty nicely at about two in theafternoon, sir. Bed, sir?'
`I shall not go to bed till night; but I want a bedroom and abarber.'
`And then breakfast, sir? Yes, sir. That way, sir, if youplease. Show Concord! Gentleman's valise and hot water toConcord. Pull off gentleman's boots in Concord. (You will finda fine sea-coal fire, sir.) Fetch barber to Concord. Stirabout there, now, for Concord!'
The Concord bed-chamber being always assigned to passenger bythe mail, and passengers by the mail being always heavilywrapped up from head to foot, the room ha' the odd interestfor the establishment of the Royal George that although butone kind of man was seen to go into it, all kinds andvarieties of men came out of it. Consequently another drawer,and two porters, and several maids and the landlady, were allloitering by accident at various points of the road betweenthe Concord and the coffee-room, when a gentle-man of sixty,formally dressed in a brown suit of clothes, pretty well worn,but very well kept, with large square cuffs and large flaps tothe pockets, passed along on his way to his breakfast.
The coffee-room had no other occupant, that forenoon, thanthe gentleman in brown. His breakfast-table was drawn beforethe fire, and as he sat, with its light shining on him,waiting for the meal, he sat so still, that he might have beensitting for his portrait.
Very orderly and methodical he looked, with a hand on eachknee, and a loud watch ticking a sonorous sermon under hisflapped waistcoat, as though it pitted its gravity andlongevity against the levity and evanescence of the briskfire. He had a good leg, and was a little vain of it, for hisbrown stockings fitted sleek and close, and were of a finetexture; his shoes and buckles, too, though plain, were trim.
He wore an odd little sleek crisp flaxen wig, setting veryclose to his head: which wig, it is to be presumed, was madeof hair, but which looked far more as though it were spun fromfilaments of silk or glass. His linen, though not of afineness in accordance with his stockings, was as white as thetops of the waves that broke upon the neighbouring beach, orthe specks of sail that glinted in the sunlight far at sea. Aface habitually suppressed and quieted, was still lighted upunder the quaint wig by a pair of moist bright eyes that itmust have cost their owner, in years gone by, some pains todrill to the composed and reserved expression of Tellson'sBank. He had a healthy colour in his cheeks, and his face,though lined, bore few traces of anxiety. But, perhaps theconfidential bachelor clerks in Tellson's Bank wereprincipally occupied with the cares of other people; andperhaps second-hand cares, like second-hand clothes, comeeasily off and on.
Completing his resemblance to a man who was sitting for hisportrait, Mr. Lorry dropped off to sleep. The arrival of hisbreakfast roused him, and he said to the drawer, as he movedhis chair to it:
`I wish accommodation prepared for a young lady who may comehere at any time to-day. She may ask for Mr. Jarvis Lorry, orshe may only ask for a gentleman from Tellson's Bank. Pleaseto let me know.
`Yes, sir. Tellson's Bank in London, sir?'
`Yes.'
`Yes, sir. We have often times the honour to entertain yourgentlemen in their travelling backwards and forwards betwixtLondon and Paris, sir. A vast deal of travelling, sir, inTellson and Company's House.'
`Yes. We are quite a French House, as well as an Englishone.'
`Yes, sir. Not much in the habit of such travelling your-self, I think, sir?'
`Not of late years. It is fifteen years since we--since I--came last from France.'
`Indeed, sir? That was before my time here, sir. Before ourpeople's time here, sir. The George was in other hands at thattime, sir.'
`I believe so.'
`But I would hold a pretty wager, sir, that a House likeTellson and Company was flourishing, a matter of fifty, not tospeak of fifteen years ago?'
`You might treble that, and say a hundred and fifty, yet notbe far from the truth.'
`Indeed, sir!'
Rounding his mouth and both his eyes, as he stepped backwardfrom the table, the waiter shifted his napkin from his-rightarm to his left, dropped into a comfortable attitude, andstood surveying the guest while he ate and drank, as from anobservatory or watch-tower. According to the immemorial usageof waiters in all ages.
When Mr. Lorry had finished his breakfast, he went out for astroll on the beach. The little narrow, crooked town of Doverhid itself away from the beach, and ran its head into thechalk cliffs, like a marine ostrich. The beach was a desert ofheaps of sea and stones tumbling wildly about, and the sea didwhat it liked, and what it liked was destruction. It thunderedat the town, and thundered at the cliffs, and brought thecoast down, madly. The air among the houses was of so strong apiscatory flavour that one might have supposed sick fish wentup to be dipped in it, as sick people went down to be dippedin the sea. A little fishing was done in the port, and aquantity of strolling about by night, and looking seaward:
particularly at those times when the tide made, and was nearflood. Small tradesmen, who did no business whatever,sometimes unaccountably realised large fortunes, and it wasremarkable that nobody in the neighbourhood could endure alamplighter.
As the day declined into the afternoon, and the air, whichhad been at intervals clear enough to allow the French coastto be seen, became again charged with mist and vapour, Mr.
Lorry's thoughts seemed to cloud too. When dark, and he satbefore the coffee-room fire, awaiting his dinner as he hadawaited his breakfast, his mind was digging, digging, digging,in the live red coals.
A bottle of good claret after dinner does a digger in the redcoals no harm, otherwise than as it has a tendency to throwhim out of work. Mr. Lorry had been idle a lo and had justpoured out his last glassful of wine complete an appearance ofsatisfaction as is ever to be found in an elderly gentleman ofa fresh complexion who has got to the end of a bottle, when arattling of wheels came up the narrow street, and rumbled intothe inn-yard.
He set down his glass untouched. `This is Mam'selle!' saidhe.
In a very few minutes the waiter came in to announce thatMiss Manette had arrived from London, and", happy to see thegentleman from Tellson's.
`So soon?'
Miss Manette had taken some refreshment on the road, andrequired none then, and was extremely anxious to see thegentleman from Tellson's immediately, if it suited hispleasure and convenience.
The gentleman from Tellson's had nothing left for it but toempty his glass with an air of stolid desperation, settle hisodd little flaxen wig at the ears, and follow the waiter toMiss Manette's apartment. It was a large, dark room, furnishedin a funereal manner with black horsehair, and loaded withheavy dark tables. These had been oiled, until the two tallcandles on the table in the of the room were gloomilyreflected on every leaf; were buried, in deep graves of blackmahogany, and to speak of could be expected from them untilthe dug out.
The obscurity was so difficult to penetrate that Mr Lorry,picking his way over the well-worn Turkey carpet, supposedMiss Manette to be, for the moment, in some adjacent room,until, having got past the two tall candles, he saw to receivehim by the table between them and the young lady of not morethan seventeen, in a riding-cloak, and still holding her strawtravelling-hat by its ribbon in her hand. As his eyes restedon a short, slight, pretty figure, a quantity of golden hair,a pair of blue eyes that met his own with an inquiring look,and a forehead with a singular capacity (remembering how youngand smooth it was of lifting and knitting itself into anexpression that was not quite one of perplexity, or wonder, oralarm or merely of a bright fixed attention, though isincluded all the four expressions--as his eyes rested on thesethings, a sudden vivid likeness passed before him, of a childwhom he had held in his arms on the passage across that veryChannel, one cold time, when the hail drifted heavily and thesea ran high. The likeness passed away, like a breath alongthe surface of the gaunt pier-glass behind her, on the frameof which, a hospital procession of negro cupids, several head-less and all cripples, were offering black baskets of DeadSea fruit to black divinities of the feminine gender--and hemade his formal bow to Miss Manette.
`Pray take a seat, sir.' In a very clear and pleasant youngvoice; a little foreign in its accent, but a very littleindeed.
`I kiss your hand, miss,' said Mr. Lorry, with the manners ofan earlier date, as he made his formal bow again, and took hisseat.
`I received a letter from the Bank, sir, yesterday, informingme that some intelligence--or discovery---`The word is not material, miss; either word will do.'
`--respecting the small property of my poor father, whom Inever saw--so long dead---'
Mr. Lorry moved in his chair, and cast a troubled looktowards the hospital procession of negro cupids. As if theyhad any help for anybody in their absurd baskets! #p#副标题#e#`--rendered it necessary that I should go to Paris, there tocommunicate with a gentleman of the Bank, so good as to bedespatched to Paris for the purpose.'
`Myself'
`As I was prepared to hear, sir.'
She curtseyed to him (young ladies made curtseys in thosedays), with a pretty desire to convey to him that she felt howmuch older and wiser he was than she. He made her another bow.
`I replied to the Bank, sir, that as it was considerednecessary, by those who know, and who are so kind as to adviseme, that I should go to France, and that as I am an orphan andhave no friend who could go with me, I should esteem it highlyif I might be permitted to place myself, during the journey,under that worthy gentleman's protection. The gentleman hadleft London, but I think a messenger was sent after him to begthe favour of his waiting for me here.'
`I was happy,' said Mr. Lorry, `to be entrusted with thecharge. I shall be more happy to execute it.'
`Sir, I thank you indeed. I thank you very gratefully. It wastold me by the Bank that the gentleman would explain to me thedetails of the business, and that I must prepare myself tofind them of a surprising nature. I have done my best toprepare myself, and I naturally have a strong and eagerinterest to know what they are.
`Naturally,' said Mr. Lorry. `Yes--I---'
Alter a pause, he added, again settling the crisp flaxen wigat the ears:
`It is very difficult to begin.'
He did not begin, but, in his indecision, met her glance.
The young forehead lifted itself into that singularexpression--but it was pretty and characteristic, besidesbeing singular--and she raised her hand, as if with aninvoluntary action she caught at, or stayed some passingshadow.
`Are you quite a stranger to me, sir?'
`Am I not?' Mr. Lorry opened his hands, and extended themoutwards with an argumentative smile.
Between the eyebrows and just over the little feminine nose,the line of which was as delicate and fine as it was possibleto be, the expression deepened itself as she took her seatthoughtfully in the chair by which she had hitherto remainedstanding. He watched her as she mused, and the moment sheraised her eyes again, went on:
`In your adopted country, I presume, I cannot do better thanaddress you as a young English lady, Miss Manette?'
`If you please, sir.'
`Miss Manette, I am a man of business. I have a businesscharge to acquit myself of. In your reception of it, don'theed me any more than if I was a speaking machine--truly, I amnot much else. I will, with your leave, relate to you, miss,the story of one of our customers.'
`Story!'
He seemed wilfully to mistake the word she had repeated, whenhe added, in a hurry, `Yes, customers; in the banking businesswe usually call our connexion our customers. He was a Frenchgentleman; a scientific gentleman; a man of greatacquirements--a Doctor.'
`Not of Beauvais?'
`Why, yes, of Beauvais. Like Monsieur Manette, your father,the gentleman was of Beauvais. Like Monsieur Manette, yourfather, the gentleman was of repute in Paris. I had the honourof knowing him there. Our relations were business relations,but confidential. I was at that time in our French--House, andhad been--oh! twenty years.'
`At that time--I may ask, at what time, sir?'
`I speak, miss, of twenty years ago. He married--an Englishlady--and I was one of the trustees. His affairs, like theaffairs of many other French gentlemen and French families,were entirely in Tellson's hands. In a similar way I am, or Ihave been, trustee of one kind or other for scores of ourcustomers. These are mere business relations, miss; there isno friendship in them, no particular interest, nothing likesentiment. I have passed from one to another, iii the courseof my business life, just as I pass from one of our customersto another in the course of my business day; in short, I haveno feelings; I am a mere machine. To go on---`But this is my father's story, sir; and I begin to think'--the curiously roughened forehead was very intent upon him--'that when I was left an orphan through my mother's survivingmy father only two years, it was you who brought me toEngland. I am almost sure it was you.
Mr. Lorry took the hesitating little hand that confidinglyadvanced to take his, and he put it with some ceremony to hislips. He then conducted the young lady straightaway to herchair again, and, holding the chair-back with his left hand,and using his right by turns to rub his chin, pull his wig atthe ears, or point what lie said, stood looking down into herface while she sat looking up into his.
`Miss Manette, it was I. And you will see how truly I spokeof myself just now, in saying I had no feelings, and that allthe relations I hold with my fellow-creatures are merebusiness relations, when you reflect that I have never seenyou since. No; you have been the ward of Tellsons House since,and I have been busy with the other business of Tellsons Housesince. Feelings I have no time for them, no chance of them. Ipass my whole life, miss, in turning an immense pecuniaryMangle.'
After this odd description of his daily routine ofemployment, Mr. Lorry flattened his flaxen wig upon his headwith both hands (which was most unnecessary, for nothing couldbe flatter than its shining surface was before), and resumedhis former attitude.
`So far, miss (as you have remarked), this is the story ofyour regretted father. Now comes the difference. If yourfather had not died when he did---Don't be frightened! How youstart!'
She did, indeed, start. And she caught his wrist with bothher hands.
`Pray,' said Mr. Lorry, in a soothing tone, bringing hi' lefthand from the back of the chair to lay it on the supplicatoryfingers that clasped him in so violent a tremble; `praycontrol your agitation--a matter of business. As I was saying---'
Her look so discomposed him that he stopped, wandered andbegan anew:
`As I was saying; if Monsieur Manette had not died; if he hadsuddenly and silently disappeared; if he had been spiritedaway; if it had not been difficult to guess to what dreadfulplace, though no art could trace him; if he had an enemy insome compatriot who could exercise a privilege that I in myown time have known the boldest people afraid to speak of in awhisper, across the water there; for instance the privilege offilling up blank forms for the consignment of any one to theoblivion of a prison for any length of time if his wife hadimplored the king, the queen, the court, the clergy, for anytidings of him, and all quite in vain ;--then the history ofyour father would have been the history of this unfortunategentleman, the Doctor of Beauvais.
`I entreat you to tell me more, sir.'
`I will. I am going to. You can bear it?'
`I can bear anything but the uncertainty you leave me in atthis moment.
`You speak collectedly, and you--are collected. `That good!'
(Though his manner was less satisfied than hi words.) `Amatter of business. Regard it as a matter o-business-businessthat must be done. Now if this doctor's wife, though a lady ofgreat courage and spirit, had suffered so intensely from thiscause before her little child was born---'
`The little child was a daughter, sir?'
`A daughter. A--a--matter of business--don't be distressed.
Miss, if the poor lady had suffered so intensely before herlittle child was born, that she came to the determination ofsparing the poor child the inheritance of any part of theagony she had known the pains of, by rearing her in the beliefthat her father was dead---No, don't kneel! In Heaven's namewhy should you kneel to me?' #p#副标题#e#`For the truth. O dear, good, compassionate sir, for the truth!'
`A--a matter of business. You confuse me, and how can I transact business if I am confused? Let us be clear-headed. If you could kindly mention now, for instance, what nine times ninepence are, or how many shillings in twenty guineas, it would be so encouraging. I should be so much more at my ease about your state of mind.'
Without directly answering to this appeal, she sat so still when he had very gently raised her, and the hands that had not ceased to clasp his wrists were so much more steady than they had been, that she communicated some reassurance to Mr. Jarvis Lorry.
`That's right, that's right. Courage! Business! You have business before you; useful business. Miss Manette, your mother took this course with you. And when she died--I believe broken-hearted--having never slackened her unavailing search for your father, she left you, at two years old, to grow to be blooming, beautiful, and happy, without the dark cloud upon you of living in uncertainty whether your father soon wore his heart out in prison, or wasted there through many lingering years.'
As he said the words he looked down, with an admiring pity, on the flowing golden hair; as if he pictured to him-self that it might have been already tinged with grey.
`You know that your parents had no great possession, and that what they had was secured to your mother and to you. There has been no new discovery, of money, or of any other property; but---He felt his wrist held closer, and he stopped. The expression in the forehead, which had so particularly attracted his notice, and which was now immovable, had deepened into one of pain and horror.
`But he has been-been found. He is alive. Greatly changed, it is too probable; almost a wreck, it is possible; though we will hope the best. Still, alive. Your father has been taken to the house of an old servant in Paris, and we are going there: I, to identify him if I can: you, to restore him to life, love, duty, rest, comfort.'
A shiver ran through her frame, and from it through his. She said, in a low, distinct, awe-stricken voice, as if she were saying it in a dream,`I am going to see his Ghost! It will be his Ghost--not him!'
Mr. Lorry quietly chafed the hands that held his arm. `There, there, there! See now, see now! The best and the worst are known to you, now. You are well on your way to the poor wronged gentleman, and, with a fair sea voyage, and a fair land journey, you will be soon at his dear side.'
She repeated in the same tone, sunk to a whisper, `I have been free, I have been happy, yet his Ghost has never haunted me!'
`Only one thing more,' said Mr. Lorry, laying stress upon it as a wholesome means of enforcing her attention: `he has been found under another name; his own, long forgotten or long concealed. It would be worse than useless now to inquire which; worse than useless to seek to know whether he has been for years overlooked, or always designedly held prisoner. It would be worse than useless now to make any inquiries, because it would be dangerous. Better not to mention the subject, anywhere or in any way, and to remove him--for a while at all events--out of France. Even I, safe as an Englishman, and even Tellson's, important as they are to French credit, avoid all naming of the matter. I carry about me, not a scrap of writing openly referring to it. This is a secret service altogether. My credentials, entries, and memoranda, are all comprehended in the one line, "Recalled to Life;" which may mean anything. But what is the matter? She doesn't notice a word! Miss Manette!'
Perfectly still and silent, and not even fallen back in her chair, she sat under his hand, utterly insensible; with her eyes open and fixed upon him, and with that last expression looking as if it were carved or branded into her forehead. So close was her hold upon his arm, that he feared to detach himself lest he should hurt her; therefore he called out loudly for assistance without moving.
A wild-looking woman, whom even in his agitation, Mr. Lorry observed to be all of a red colour, and to have red hair, and to be dressed in some extraordinary tight fitting fashion, and to have on her head a most wonderful bonnet like a Grenadier wooden measure, and good measure too, or a great Stilton cheese, came running into the room in advance of the inn servants, and soon settled the question of his detachment from the poor young lady, by laying a brawny hand upon his chest, and sending him flying back against the nearest wall.
(`I really think this must be a man!' was Mr. Lorry's breathless reflection, simultaneously with his coming against the wall.)`Why, look at you all!' bawled this figure, addressing the inn servants. `Why don't you go and fetch things, instead of standing there staring at me? I am not so much to look at, am I? Why don't you go and fetch things? I'll let you know, if you don't bring smelling-salts, cold water, and vinegar, quick, I will.'
There was an immediate dispersal for these restoratives, and she softly laid the patient on a sofa, and tended her with great skill and gentleness: calling her `my precious!' and `my bird!' and spreading her golden hair aside over her shoulders with great pride and care.
`And you in brown!' she said, indignantly turning to Mr. Lorry; `couldn't you tell her what you had to tell her, without frightening her to death? Look at her, with her pretty pale face and her cold hands. Do you call that being a Banker?'
Mr. Lorry was so exceedingly disconcerted by a question so hard to answer, that he could only look on, at a distance, with much feebler sympathy and humility, while the strong woman, having banished the inn servants under the mysterious penalty of `letting them know' something not mentioned if they stayed there, staring, recovered her charge by a regular series of gradations, and coaxed her to lay her drooping head upon her shoulder.
`I hope she will do well now,' said Mr. Lorry.
`No thanks to you in brown, if she does. My darling pretty!'
`I hope,' said Mr. Lorry, after another pause of feeble sympathy and humility, `that you accompany Miss Manette to France?'
`A likely thing, too!' replied the strong woman. `If it was ever intended that I should go across salt water, do you suppose Providence would have cast my lot in an island?'
This being another question hard to answer, Mr. Jarvis Lorry withdrew to consider it. |