Крихітка Дорріт

Chapter 1. Sun and Shadow

           

           Itwasnogreatgift,fortherewasmightylittlewineleft;butSignorCavalletto,jumpingtohisfeet,receivedthebottlegratefully,turneditupsidedownathismouth,andsmackedhislips.

           ‘Putthebottlebywiththerest,’saidRigaud.

           Thelittlemanobeyedhisorders,andstoodreadytogivehimalightedmatch;forhewasnowrollinghistobaccointocigarettesbytheaidoflittlesquaresofpaperwhichhadbeenbroughtinwithit.

           ‘Here!Youmayhaveone.’

           ‘Athousandthanks,mymaster!’JohnBaptistsaidinhisownlanguage,andwiththequickconciliatorymannerofhisowncountrymen.

           MonsieurRigaudarose,lightedacigarette,puttherestofhisstockintoabreast-pocket,andstretchedhimselfoutatfulllengthuponthebench.Cavallettosatdownonthepavement,holdingoneofhisanklesineachhand,andsmokingpeacefully.ThereseemedtobesomeuncomfortableattractionofMonsieurRigaud’seyestotheimmediateneighbourhoodofthatpartofthepavementwherethethumbhadbeenintheplan.Theyweresodrawninthatdirection,thattheItalianmorethanoncefollowedthemtoandbackfromthepavementinsomesurprise.

           ‘Whataninfernalholethisis!’saidMonsieurRigaud,breakingalongpause.‘Lookatthelightofday.Day?thelightofyesterdayweek,thelightofsixmonthsago,thelightofsixyearsago.Soslackanddead!’

           Itcamelanguishingdownasquarefunnelthatblindedawindowinthestaircasewall,throughwhichtheskywasneverseen—noranythingelse.

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