Крошка Доррит

Chapter 3. On the Road

           

           Again,therewouldbeplaceswheretheystayedtheweektogetherinsplendidrooms,hadbanquetseveryday,rodeoutamongheapsofwonders,walkedthroughmilesofpalaces,andrestedindarkcornersofgreatchurches;wheretherewerewinkinglampsofgoldandsilveramongpillarsandarches,kneelingfiguresdottedaboutatconfessionalsandonthepavements;wheretherewasthemistandscentofincense;wheretherewerepictures,fantasticimages,gaudyaltars,greatheightsanddistances,allsoftlylightedthroughstainedglass,andthemassivecurtainsthathunginthedoorways.Fromthesecitiestheywouldgoonagain,bytheroadsofvinesandolives,throughsqualidvillages,wheretherewasnotahovelwithoutagapinitsfilthywalls,notawindowwithawholeinchofglassorpaper;wherethereseemedtobenothingtosupportlife,nothingtoeat,nothingtomake,nothingtogrow,nothingtohope,nothingtodobutdie.

           Againtheywouldcometowholetownsofpalaces,whoseproperinmateswereallbanished,andwhichwereallchangedintobarracks:troopsofidlesoldiersleaningoutofthestatewindows,wheretheiraccoutrementshungdryingonthemarblearchitecture,andshowingtothemindlikehostsofratswhowere(happily)eatingawaythepropsoftheedificesthatsupportedthem,andmustsoon,withthem,besmashedontheheadsoftheotherswarmsofsoldiersandtheswarmsofpriests,andtheswarmsofspies,whowerealltheill-lookingpopulationlefttoberuined,inthestreetsbelow.

           Throughsuchscenes,thefamilyprocessionmovedontoVenice.

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