Крихітка Дорріт

Chapter 11. Let Loose

           Helayforsomesecondslookingplacidlyathisoldprisoncompanion,andthen,allatonce,withacryofsurpriseandalarm,sprangoutofbed.

           ‘Hush!What’sthematter?Keepquiet!It’sI.Youknowme?’criedtheother,inasuppressedvoice.

           ButJohnBaptist,widelystaring,mutteringanumberofinvocationsandejaculations,tremblinglybackingintoacorner,slippingonhistrousers,andtyinghiscoatbythetwosleevesroundhisneck,manifestedanunmistakabledesiretoescapebythedoorratherthanrenewtheacquaintance.Seeingthis,hisoldprisoncomradefellbackuponthedoor,andsethisshouldersagainstit.

           ‘Cavalletto!Wake,boy!Rubyoureyesandlookatme.Notthenameyouusedtocallme—don’tusethat—Lagnier,sayLagnier!’

           JohnBaptist,staringathimwitheyesopenedtotheirutmostwidth,madeanumberofthosenational,backhandedshakesoftherightforefingerintheair,asifhewereresolvedonnegativingbeforehandeverythingthattheothercouldpossiblyadvanceduringthewholetermofhislife.

           ‘Cavalletto!Givemeyourhand.YouknowLagnier,thegentleman.Touchthehandofagentleman!’

           Submittinghimselftotheoldtoneofcondescendingauthority,JohnBaptist,notatallsteadyonhislegsasyet,advancedandputhishandinhispatron’s.MonsieurLagnierlaughed;andhavinggivenitasqueeze,tosseditupandletitgo.

           ‘Thenyouwere—’falteredJohnBaptist.

           ‘Notshaved?No.Seehere!’criedLagnier,givinghisheadatwirl;‘astightonasyourown.

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