第228章
- THE PICKWICK PAPERS
- Charles Dickens
- 1053字
- 2016-03-02 16:32:38
Mr.Pickwick feeling not a little disgusted with this dialogue, as well as with the air and manner of the two beings by whom it had been carried on, was about to inquire whether he could not be accommodated with a private sitting-room, when two or three strangers of genteel appearance entered, at sight of whom the boy threw his cigar into the fire, and whispering to Mr.Price that they had come to "make it all right" for him, joined them at a table in the further end of the room.
It would appear, however, that matters were not going to be made all right quite so speedily as the young gentleman anticipated; for a very long conversation ensued, of which Mr.Pickwick could not avoid hearing certain angry fragments regarding dissolute conduct, and repeated forgiveness.
At last, there were very distinct allusions made by the oldest gentleman of the party to one Whitecross Street, at which the young gentleman, notwithstanding his primeness and his spirit and his knowledge of life into the bargain, reclined his head upon the table, and howled dismally.
Very much satisfied with this sudden bringing down of the youth's valour, and this effectual lowering of his tone, Mr.Pickwick rang the bell, and was shown, at his own request, into a private room furnished with a carpet, table, chairs, sideboard, and sofa, and ornamented with a looking-glass, and various old prints.Here, he had the advantage of hearing Mrs.Namby's performance on a square piano overhead; while the breakfast was getting ready; when it came, Mr.Perker came too.
"Aha, my dear sir," said the little man, "nailed at last, eh? Come, come, I'm not sorry for it either, because now you'll see the absurdity of this conduct.I've noted down the amount of the taxed costs and damages for which the ca-sa was issued, and we had better settle at once and lose no time.Namby is come home by this time, I daresay.What say you, my dear sir? Shall I draw a cheque, or will you?" The little man rubbed his hands with affected cheerfulness as he said this, but glancing at Mr.Pickwick's countenance, could not forbear at the same time casting a desponding look towards Sam Weller.
"Perker," said Mr.Pickwick, "let me hear no more of this, I beg.Isee no advantage in staying here, so I shall go to prison to-night.""You can't go to Whitecross Street, my dear sir," said Perker."Impossible!
There are sixty beds in a ward; and the bolt's on, sixteen hours out of the four-and-twenty.""I would rather go to some other place of confinement if I can," said Mr.Pickwick."If not, I must make the best I can of that.""You can go to the Fleet, my dear sir, if you're determined to go somewhere,"said Perker.
"That'll do," said Mr.Pickwick."I'll go there directly I have finished my breakfast.""Stop, stop, my dear sir; not the least occasion for being in such a violent hurry to get into a place that most other men are as eager to get out of," said the good-natured little attorney."We must have a habeas corpus.There'll be no judge at chambers till four o'clock this afternoon.
You must wait till then."
"Very good," said Mr.Pickwick, with unmoved patience."Then we will have a chop, here, at two.See about it, Sam, and tell them to be punctual."Mr.Pickwick remaining firm, despite all the remonstrances and arguments of Perker, the chops appeared and disappeared in due course; he was then put into another hackney-coach, and carried off to Chancery Lane, after waiting half an hour or so for Mr.Namby, who had a select dinner-party, and could on no account be disturbed before.
There were two judges in attendance at Sergeant's Inn--one King's Bench, and one Common Pleas--and a great deal of business appeared to be transacting before them, if the number of lawyer's clerks who were hurrying in and out with bundles of papers, afforded any test.When they reached the low archway which forms the entrance to the Inn, Perker was detained a few moments parleying with the coachman about the fare and the change; and Mr.Pickwick, stepping to one side to be out of the way of the stream of people that were pouring in and out, looked about him with some curiosity.
The people that attracted his attention most, were three or four men of shabby-genteel appearance, who touched their hats to many of the attorneys who passed, and seemed to have some business there, the nature of which Mr.Pickwick could not divine.They were curious-looking fellows.One was a slim and rather lame man in rusty black, and a white neckerchief; another was a stout burly person, dressed in the same apparel, with a great reddish-black cloth round his neck; a third, was a little weazen drunken-looking body, with a pimply face.They were loitering about, with their hands behind them, and now and then with an anxious countenance whispered something in the ear of some of the gentlemen with papers, as they hurried by.Mr.
Pickwick remembered to have very often observed them lounging under the archway when he had been walking past; and his curiosity was quite excited to know to what branch of the profession these dingy-looking loungers could possibly belong.
He was about to propound the question to Namby, who kept close behind him, sucking a large gold ring on his little finger, when Perker bustled up, and observing that there was no time to lose, led the way into the Inn.As Mr.Pickwick followed, the lame man stepped up to him, and civilly touching his hat, held out a written card, which Mr.Pickwick, not wishing to hurt the man's feelings by refusing, courteously accepted and deposited in his waistcoat-pocket.
"Now," said Perker, turning round before he entered one of the offices, to see that his companions were close behind him."In here, my dear sir.
Hallo, what do you want?"
This last question was addressed to the lame man, who, unobserved by Mr.Pickwick, made one of the party.In reply to it, the lame man touched his hat again, with all imaginable politeness, and motioned towards Mr.
Pickwick.