Финансист

Chapter LIII

           Whatdidmatterwasthathewasshutuphereawayfromtheworld,quitealone,quitelonely,withoutknowingwhattimeitwas,andthathecouldnotattendtoanyofthethingsheoughttobeattendingto—hisbusinessaffairs,hisfuture.True,Stegerwouldprobablycometoseehimafterawhile.Thatwouldhelpalittle.Butevenso—thinkofhisposition,hisprospectsuptothedayofthefireandhisstatenow.Hesatlookingathisshoes;hissuit.God!Hegotupandwalkedtoandfro,toandfro,buthisownstepsandmovementssoundedsoloud.Hewalkedtothecelldoorandlookedoutthroughthethickbars,buttherewasnothingtosee—nothingsaveaportionoftwocelldoorsopposite,somethinglikehisown.Hecamebackandsatinhissinglechair,meditating,but,gettingwearyofthatfinally,stretchedhimselfonthedirtyprisonbedtotryit.Itwasnotuncomfortableentirely.Hegotupafterawhile,however,andsat,thenwalked,thensat.Whatanarrowplacetowalk,hethought.Thiswashorrible—somethinglikealivingtomb.Andtothinkheshouldbeherenow,dayafterdayanddayafterday,until—untilwhat?UntiltheGovernorpardonedhimorhistimewasup,orhisfortuneeatenaway—or—

           Sohecogitatedwhilethehoursslippedby.Itwasnearlyfiveo’clockbeforeStegerwasabletoreturn,andthenonlyforalittlewhile.HehadbeenarrangingforCowperwood’sappearanceonthefollowingThursday,Friday,andMondayinhisseveralcourtproceedings

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