Крихітка Дорріт

Chapter 11. Let Loose

           Verywell!’

           Ashestretchedouthislengthuponit,witharaggedhandkerchiefboundroundhiswickedhead,andonlyhiswickedheadshowingabovethebedclothes,JohnBaptistwasratherstronglyremindedofwhathadsoverynearlyhappenedtopreventthemoustachefromanymoregoingupasitdid,andthenosefromanymorecomingdownasitdid.

           ‘Shakenoutofdestiny’sdice-boxagainintoyourcompany,eh?ByHeaven!Somuchthebetterforyou.You’llprofitbyit.Ishallneedalongrest.Letmesleepinthemorning.’

           JohnBaptistrepliedthatheshouldsleepaslongashewould,andwishinghimahappynight,putoutthecandle.OnemighthavesupposedthatthenextproceedingoftheItalianwouldhavebeentoundress;buthedidexactlythereverse,anddressedhimselffromheadtofoot,savinghisshoes.Whenhehadsodone,helaydownuponhisbedwithsomeofitscoveringsoverhim,andhiscoatstilltiedroundhisneck,togetthroughthenight.

           Whenhestartedup,theGodfatherBreakofDaywaspeepingatitsnamesake.Herose,tookhisshoesinhishand,turnedthekeyinthedoorwithgreatcaution,andcreptdownstairs.Nothingwasastirtherebutthesmellofcoffee,wine,tobacco,andsyrups;andmadame’slittlecounterlookedghastlyenough.Buthehadpaidmadamehislittlenoteatitovernight,andwantedtoseenobody—wantednothingbuttogetonhisshoesandhisknapsack,openthedoor,andrunaway.

           Heprosperedinhisobject.Nomovementorvoicewasheardwhenheopenedthedoor;nowickedheadtiedupinaraggedhandkerchieflookedoutoftheupperwindow

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