第 21 节
作者:随便看看      更新:2022-07-12 16:23      字数:9322
  out); there was a poor little dark…chinned; meagre man; with a perplexed
  brow and a pensive face; stooping low over the matting on the floor; and
  picking out with his thumb and forefinger the course of its fibres。                    The
  afternoon   sun   was   slanting   in   at   the   large   end…window;   and   there   were
  cross patches of light and shade all down the vista; made by the unseen
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  windows and the open doors of the little sleeping…cells on either side。                       In
  about     the   centre   of   the  perspective;      under    an   arch;   regardless    of   the
  pleasant   weather;   regardless   of   the   solitude;   regardless   of   approaching
  footsteps; was the poor little dark…chinned; meagre man; poring over the
  matting。      〃What are you doing there?〃 said my conductor; when we came
  to him。     He looked up; and pointed to the matting。                 〃I wouldn't do that; I
  think;〃 said my conductor; kindly; 〃if I were you; I would go and read; or I
  would      lie  down     if  I  felt  tired;  but  I  wouldn't     do   that。〃   The     patient
  considered a moment; and vacantly answered; 〃No; sir; I won't; I'll … I'll go
  and read;〃 and so he lamely shuffled away into one of the little rooms。                         I
  turned my head before we had gone many paces。                        He had already come
  out   again;   and   was   again   poring   over   the   matting;   and   tracking   out   its
  fibres   with   his   thumb   and   forefinger。      I   stopped   to   look   at   him;   and   it
  came into my mind; that probably the course of those fibres as they plaited
  in   and   out;   over   and   under;   was   the   only   course   of   things   in   the   whole
  wide   world   that   it   was   left   to   him   to   understand   …   that   his   darkening
  intellect had narrowed down to the small cleft of light which showed him;
  〃This   piece   was   twisted   this   way;   went   in   here;   passed   under;   came   out
  there; was carried on away here to the right where I now put my finger on
  it; and in this progress of events; the thing was made and came to be here。〃
  Then;   I   wondered   whether   he   looked   into   the   matting;   next;   to   see   if   it
  could   show   him   anything   of   the   process   through   which   HE   came   to   be
  there; so strangely poring over it。             Then; I thought how all of us; GOD
  help us! in our different ways are poring over our bits of matting; blindly
  enough;   and   what   confusions   and   mysteries   we   make   in   the   pattern。           I
  had a sadder fellow…feeling with the little dark… chinned; meagre man; by
  that time; and I came away。'
  Mr。 Idle diverting the conversation to grouse; custards; and bride… cake;
  Mr。   Goodchild   followed   in   the   same   direction。          The   bride…cake   was   as
  bilious   and   indigestible   as   if   a   real   Bride   had   cut   it;   and   the   dinner   it
  completed was an admirable performance。
  The   house      was   a  genuine     old   house    of   a   very   quaint   description;
  teeming with old carvings; and beams; and panels; and having an excellent
  old staircase; with a gallery or upper staircase; cut off from it by a curious
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  fence…work of old oak; or of the old Honduras Mahogany wood。                         It was;
  and     is;  and   will   be;  for   many     a  long   year    to  come;    a   remarkably
  picturesque house; and a certain grave mystery lurking in the depth of the
  old mahogany panels; as if they were so many deep pools of dark water …
  such; indeed; as they had been much among when they were trees … gave it
  a very mysterious character after nightfall。
  When Mr。 Goodchild and Mr。 Idle had first alighted at the door; and
  stepped   into   the   sombre;   handsome   old   hall;   they   had   been   received   by
  half…a…dozen   noiseless   old   men   in   black;   all   dressed   exactly   alike;   who
  glided   up   the   stairs   with   the   obliging   landlord   and   waiter   …   but   without
  appearing to get into their way; or to mind whether they did or no … and
  who had filed off to the right and left on the old staircase; as the guests
  entered   their   sitting…   room。     It   was   then   broad;   bright   day。    But;   Mr。
  Goodchild had said; when their door was shut; 'Who on earth are those old
  men?'      And afterwards; both on going out and coming in; he had noticed
  that there were no old men to be seen。
  Neither; had the old men; or any one of the old men; reappeared since。
  The   two   friends   had   passed   a   night   in   the   house;   but   had   seen   nothing
  more   of   the old   men。     Mr。  Goodchild;  in   rambling about it;  had looked
  along passages; and glanced in at doorways; but had encountered no old
  men; neither did it appear that any old men were; by any member of the
  establishment; missed or expected。
  Another odd circumstance impressed itself on their attention。                   It was;
  that the door of their sitting…room was never left untouched for a quarter of
  an hour。      It was opened with hesitation; opened with confidence; opened
  a little way; opened a good way; … always clapped…to again without a word
  of explanation。        They were reading; they were writing; they were eating;
  they   were   drinking;   they   were   talking;   they   were   dozing;   the   door   was
  always opened at an unexpected moment; and they looked towards it; and
  it   was   clapped…   to   again;   and   nobody   was   to   be   seen。   When   this   had
  happened   fifty   times   or   so;   Mr。   Goodchild   had   said   to   his   companion;
  jestingly: 'I begin to think; Tom; there was something wrong with those six
  old men。'
  Night   had   come   again;   and   they   had   been   writing   for   two   or   three
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  hours:     writing; in short; a portion of the lazy notes from which these lazy
  sheets are taken。       They had left off writing; and glasses were on the table
  between   them。       The   house   was   closed   and   quiet。    Around   the   head   of
  Thomas   Idle;   as   he   lay  upon   his   sofa;   hovered   light   wreaths   of   fragrant
  smoke。      The temples of Francis Goodchild; as he leaned back in his chair;
  with   his   two   hands   clasped   behind   his   head;   and   his   legs   crossed;   were
  similarly decorated。
  They   had   been   discussing   several   idle   subjects   of   speculation;   not
  omitting     the   strange   old   men;    and   were   still  so  occupied;     when    Mr。
  Goodchild   abruptly   changed   his   attitude   to   wind   up   his   watch。       They
  were just becoming drowsy enough to be stopped in their talk by any such
  slight check。      Thomas Idle; who was speaking at the moment; paused and
  said; 'How goes it?'
  'One;' said Goodchild。
  As   if   he  had   ordered   One    old   man;   and   the   order   were   promptly
  executed (truly; all orders were so; in that excellent hotel); the door opened;
  and One old man stood there。
  He did not come in; but stood with the door in his hand。
  'One   of   the  six;  Tom;    at  last!'  said  Mr。   Goodchild;     in  a  surprised
  whisper。 … 'Sir; your pleasure?'
  'Sir; YOUR pleasure?' said the One old man。
  'I didn't ring。'
  'The bell did;' said the One old man。
  He said BELL; in a deep; strong way; that would have expressed the
  church Bell。
  'I   had   the   pleasure;    I  believe;    of   seeing    you;    yesterday?'    said
  Goodchild。
  'I cannot undertake to say for certain;' was the grim reply of the One
  old man。
  'I think you saw me?        Did you not?'
  'Saw YOU?' said the old man。             'O yes; I saw you。        But; I see many
  who never see me。'
  A   chilled;   slow;   earthy;   fixed   old   man。   A   cadaverous   old   man   of
  measured speech。         An old man who seemed as unable to wink; as if his
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  eyelids had been nailed to his forehead。             An old man whose eyes … two
  spots of fire … had no more motion than if they had been connected with
  the back of his skull by screws driven through it; and rivetted and bolted
  outside; among his grey hair。
  The  night   had   turned   so   cold;   to   Mr。   Goodch