Крошка Доррит

Chapter 13. Patriarchal

           

           ‘Yes,sir;yes,yes,yes.It’smyleg,it’smyleg.Butitpleasesmetoheartheoldmusic,thoughIamverybad.’

           ‘Youareatraveller!Stay!See,thewater!Letmegiveyousome.’

           Theyhadrestedthelitteronapileofpavingstones.Itwasataconvenientheightfromtheground,andbystoopinghecouldlightlyraisetheheadwithonehandandholdtheglasstohislipswiththeother.Alittle,muscular,brownman,withblackhairandwhiteteeth.Alivelyface,apparently.Earringsinhisears.

           ‘That’swell.Youareatraveller?’

           ‘Surely,sir.’

           ‘Astrangerinthiscity?’

           ‘Surely,surely,altogether.Iamarrivedthisunhappyevening.’

           ‘Fromwhatcountry?’

           ‘Marseilles.’

           ‘Why,seethere!Ialso!Almostasmuchastrangerhereasyou,thoughbornhere,IcamefromMarseillesalittlewhileago.Don’tbecastdown.’Thefacelookedupathimimploringly,asherosefromwipingit,andgentlyreplacedthecoatthatcoveredthewrithingfigure.‘Iwon’tleaveyoutillyoushallbewelltakencareof.Courage!Youwillbeverymuchbetterhalfanhourhence.’

           ‘Ah!Altro,Altro!’criedthepoorlittleman,inafaintlyincreduloustone;andastheytookhimup,hungouthisrighthandtogivetheforefingeraback-handedshakeintheair.

           ArthurClennamturned;andwalkingbesidethelitter,andsayinganencouragingwordnowandthen,accompaniedittotheneighbouringhospitalofSaintBartholomew.

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