第 44 节
作者:恐龙王      更新:2021-03-08 19:21      字数:9321
  of my teeth and gums; my double teeth; my single teeth; my stopped
  teeth; and my sound。  In this Arcadian rest; I am fearless of him
  as of a harmless; powerless creature in a Scotch cap; who adores a
  young lady in a voluminous crinoline; at a neighbouring billiard…
  room; and whose passion would be uninfluenced if every one of her
  teeth were false。  They may be。  He takes them all on trust。
  In secluded corners of the place of my seclusion; there are little
  shops withdrawn from public curiosity; and never two together;
  where servants' perquisites are bought。  The cook may dispose of
  grease at these modest and convenient marts; the butler; of
  bottles; the valet and lady's maid; of clothes; most servants;
  indeed; of most things they may happen to lay hold of。  I have been
  told that in sterner times loving correspondence; otherwise
  interdicted; may be maintained by letter through the agency of some
  of these useful establishments。  In the Arcadian autumn; no such
  device is necessary。  Everybody loves; and openly and blamelessly
  loves。  My landlord's young man loves the whole of one side of the
  way of Old Bond…street; and is beloved several doors up New Bond…
  street besides。  I never look out of window but I see kissing of
  hands going on all around me。  It is the morning custom to glide
  from shop to shop and exchange tender sentiments; it is the evening
  custom for couples to stand hand in hand at house doors; or roam;
  linked in that flowery manner; through the unpeopled streets。
  There is nothing else to do but love; and what there is to do; is
  done。
  In unison with this pursuit; a chaste simplicity obtains in the
  domestic habits of Arcadia。  Its few scattered people dine early;
  live moderately; sup socially; and sleep soundly。  It is rumoured
  that the Beadles of the Arcade; from being the mortal enemies of
  boys; have signed with tears an address to Lord Shaftesbury; and
  subscribed to a ragged school。  No wonder!  For; they might turn
  their heavy maces into crooks and tend sheep in the Arcade; to the
  purling of the water…carts as they give the thirsty streets much
  more to drink than they can carry。
  A happy Golden Age; and a serene tranquillity。  Charming picture;
  but it will fade。  The iron age will return; London will come back
  to town; if I show my tongue then in Saville…row for half a minute
  I shall be prescribed for; the Doctor's man and the Dentist's man
  will then pretend that these days of unprofessional innocence never
  existed。  Where Mr。 and Mrs。 Klem and their bed will be at that
  time; passes human knowledge; but my hatter hermitage will then
  know them no more; nor will it then know me。  The desk at which I
  have written these meditations will retributively assist at the
  making out of my account; and the wheels of gorgeous carriages and
  the hoofs of high…stepping horses will crush the silence out of
  Bond…street … will grind Arcadia away; and give it to the elements
  in granite powder。
  CHAPTER XVII … THE ITALIAN PRISONER
  The rising of the Italian people from under their unutterable
  wrongs; and the tardy burst of day upon them after the long long
  night of oppression that has darkened their beautiful country; have
  naturally caused my mind to dwell often of late on my own small
  wanderings in Italy。  Connected with them; is a curious little
  drama; in which the character I myself sustained was so very
  subordinate that I may relate its story without any fear of being
  suspected of self…display。  It is strictly a true story。
  I am newly arrived one summer evening; in a certain small town on
  the Mediterranean。  I have had my dinner at the inn; and I and the
  mosquitoes are coming out into the streets together。  It is far
  from Naples; but a bright; brown; plump little woman…servant at the
  inn; is a Neapolitan; and is so vivaciously expert in panto…mimic
  action; that in the single moment of answering my request to have a
  pair of shoes cleaned which I have left up…stairs; she plies
  imaginary brushes; and goes completely through the motions of
  polishing the shoes up; and laying them at my feet。  I smile at the
  brisk little woman in perfect satisfaction with her briskness; and
  the brisk little woman; amiably pleased with me because I am
  pleased with her; claps her hands and laughs delightfully。  We are
  in the inn yard。  As the little woman's bright eyes sparkle on the
  cigarette I am smoking; I make bold to offer her one; she accepts
  it none the less merrily; because I touch a most charming little
  dimple in her fat cheek; with its light paper end。  Glancing up at
  the many green lattices to assure herself that the mistress is not
  looking on; the little woman then puts her two little dimple arms
  a…kimbo; and stands on tiptoe to light her cigarette at mine。  'And
  now; dear little sir;' says she; puffing out smoke in a most
  innocent and cherubic manner; 'keep quite straight on; take the
  first to the right and probably you will see him standing at his
  door。'
  I gave a commission to 'him;' and I have been inquiring about him。
  I have carried the commission about Italy several months。  Before I
  left England; there came to me one night a certain generous and
  gentle English nobleman (he is dead in these days when I relate the
  story; and exiles have lost their best British friend); with this
  request:  'Whenever you come to such a town; will you seek out one
  Giovanni Carlavero; who keeps a little wine…shop there; mention my
  name to him suddenly; and observe how it affects him?'  I accepted
  the trust; and am on my way to discharge it。
  The sirocco has been blowing all day; and it is a hot unwholesome
  evening with no cool sea…breeze。  Mosquitoes and fire…flies are
  lively enough; but most other creatures are faint。  The coquettish
  airs of pretty young women in the tiniest and wickedest of dolls'
  straw hats; who lean out at opened lattice blinds; are almost the
  only airs stirring。  Very ugly and haggard old women with distaffs;
  and with a grey tow upon them that looks as if they were spinning
  out their own hair (I suppose they were once pretty; too; but it is
  very difficult to believe so); sit on the footway leaning against
  house walls。  Everybody who has come for water to the fountain;
  stays there; and seems incapable of any such energetic idea as
  going home。  Vespers are over; though not so long but that I can
  smell the heavy resinous incense as I pass the church。  No man
  seems to be at work; save the coppersmith。  In an Italian town he
  is always at work; and always thumping in the deadliest manner。
  I keep straight on; and come in due time to the first on the right:
  a narrow dull street; where I see a well…favoured man of good
  stature and military bearing; in a great cloak; standing at a door。
  Drawing nearer to this threshold; I see it is the threshold of a
  small wine…shop; and I can just make out; in the dim light; the
  inscription that it is kept by Giovanni Carlavero。
  I touch my hat to the figure in the cloak; and pass in; and draw a
  stool to a little table。  The lamp (just such another as they dig
  out of Pompeii) is lighted; but the place is empty。  The figure in
  the cloak has followed me in; and stands before me。
  'The master?'
  'At your service; sir。'
  'Please to give me a glass of the wine of the country。'
  He turns to a little counter; to get it。  As his striking face is
  pale; and his action is evidently that of an enfeebled man; I
  remark that I fear he has been ill。  It is not much; he courteously
  and gravely answers; though bad while it lasts:  the fever。
  As he sets the wine on the little table; to his manifest surprise I
  lay my hand on the back of his; look him in the face; and say in a
  low voice:  'I am an Englishman; and you are acquainted with a
  friend of mine。  Do you recollect … ?' and I mentioned the name of
  my generous countryman。
  Instantly; he utters a loud cry; bursts into tears; and falls on
  his knees at my feet; clasping my legs in both his arms and bowing
  his head to the ground。
  Some years ago; this man at my feet; whose over…fraught heart is
  heaving as if it would burst from his breast; and whose tears are
  wet upon the dress I wear; was a galley…slave in the North of
  Italy。  He was a political offender; having been concerned in the
  then last rising; and was sentenced to imprisonment for life。  That
  he would have died in his chains; is certain; but for the
  circumstance that the Englishman happened to visit his prison。
  It was one of the vile old prisons of Italy; and a part of it was
  below the waters of the harbour。  The place of his confinement was
  an arched under…ground and under…water gallery; with a grill…gate
  at the entrance; through which it received such light and air as it
  got。  Its condition was insufferably foul; and a stranger could
  hardly breathe in it; or see in it with the aid of a torch。  At the
  upper end of this dungeon; and consequently