Крихітка Дорріт

Chapter 29. A Plea in the Marshalsea

           Soillandfaintthathewasobligedtorestmanytimesintheprocessofgettinghimselfwashed,hehadatlengthcrepttohischairbytheopenwindow.Inithesatdozing,whiletheoldwomanwhoarrangedhisroomwentthroughhermorning’swork.

           Lightofheadwithwantofsleepandwantoffood(hisappetite,andevenhissenseoftaste,havingforsakenhim),hehadbeentwoorthreetimesconscious,inthenight,ofgoingastray.Hehadheardfragmentsoftunesandsongsinthewarmwind,whichheknewhadnoexistence.Nowthathebegantodozeinexhaustion,heheardthemagain;andvoicesseemedtoaddresshim,andheanswered,andstarted.

           Dozinganddreaming,withoutthepowerofreckoningtime,sothataminutemighthavebeenanhourandanhouraminute,someabidingimpressionofagardenstoleoverhim—agardenofflowers,withadampwarmwindgentlystirringtheirscents.Itrequiredsuchapainfulefforttolifthisheadforthepurposeofinquiringintothis,orinquiringintoanything,thattheimpressionappearedtohavebecomequiteanoldandimportunateonewhenhelookedround.Besidethetea-cuponhistablehesaw,then,abloomingnosegay:awonderfulhandfulofthechoicestandmostlovelyflowers.

           Nothinghadeverappearedsobeautifulinhissight.Hetookthemupandinhaledtheirfragrance,andheliftedthemtohishothead,andheputthemdownandopenedhisparchedhandstothem,ascoldhandsareopenedtoreceivethecheeringofafire.

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