Крихітка Дорріт

Chapter 1. Sun and Shadow

           Thenthechild’sheaddisappeared,andtheprison-keeper’sheaddisappeared,butthelittlevoiceprolongedthestrainuntilthedoorclashed.

           MonsieurRigaud,findingthelisteningJohnBaptistinhiswaybeforetheechoeshadceased(eventheechoesweretheweakerforimprisonment,andseemedtolag),remindedhimwithapushofhisfootthathehadbetterresumehisowndarkerplace.Thelittlemansatdownagainuponthepavementwiththenegligenteaseofonewhowasthoroughlyaccustomedtopavements;andplacingthreehunksofcoarsebreadbeforehimself,andfallingtouponafourth,begancontentedlytoworkhiswaythroughthemasiftoclearthemoffwereasortofgame.

           PerhapsheglancedattheLyonssausage,andperhapsheglancedatthevealinsavouryjelly,buttheywerenottherelong,tomakehismouthwater;MonsieurRigaudsoondispatchedthem,inspiteofthepresidentandtribunal,andproceededtosuckhisfingersascleanashecould,andtowipethemonhisvineleaves.Then,ashepausedinhisdrinktocontemplatehisfellow-prisoner,hismoustachewentup,andhisnosecamedown.

           ‘Howdoyoufindthebread?’

           ‘Alittledry,butIhavemyoldsaucehere,’returnedJohnBaptist,holdinguphisknife.

           ‘Howsauce?’

           ‘Icancutmybreadso—likeamelon.Orso—likeanomelette.Orso—likeafriedfish.Orso—likeLyonssausage,’saidJohnBaptist,demonstratingthevariouscutsonthebreadheheld,andsoberlychewingwhathehadinhismouth.

           ‘Here!’criedMonsieurRigaud.‘Youmaydrink.Youmayfinishthis.

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