Крихітка Дорріт

Chapter 11. Let Loose

           Onecandine—sup—whatyoupleasetocallit?’

           ‘Ah,perfectly!’criedthelandladyasbefore.

           ‘Dispatchthen,madame,ifyouplease.Somethingtoeat,asquicklyasyoucan;andsomewineatonce.Iamexhausted.’

           ‘Itisverybadweather,monsieur,’saidthelandlady.

           ‘Cursedweather.’

           ‘Andaverylongroad.’

           ‘Acursedroad.’

           Hishoarsevoicefailedhim,andherestedhisheaduponhishandsuntilabottleofwinewasbroughtfromthecounter.Havingfilledandemptiedhislittletumblertwice,andhavingbrokenoffanendfromthegreatloafthatwassetbeforehimwithhisclothandnapkin,soup-plate,salt,pepper,andoil,herestedhisbackagainstthecornerofthewall,madeacouchofthebenchonwhichhesat,andbegantochewcrust,untilsuchtimeashisrepastshouldbeready.

           Therehadbeenthatmomentaryinterruptionofthetalkaboutthestove,andthattemporaryinattentiontoanddistractionfromoneanother,whichisusuallyinseparableinsuchacompanyfromthearrivalofastranger.Ithadpassedoverbythistime;andthemenhaddoneglancingathim,andweretalkingagain.

           ‘That’sthetruereason,’saidoneofthem,bringingastoryhehadbeentelling,toaclose,‘that’sthetruereasonwhytheysaidthatthedevilwasletloose.’ThespeakerwasthetallSwissbelongingtothechurch,andhebroughtsomethingoftheauthorityofthechurchintothediscussion—especiallyasthedevilwasinquestion.

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Roboto Lora
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