oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第16部分

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“Do　you　live　in　London？”　inquired　Oliver。　

“Yes。　I　do；　when　I’m　at　home；”　replied　the　boy。　“I　suppose　you　
want　some　place　to　sleep　in　tonight；　don’t　you？”　

“I　do；　indeed；”　answered　Oliver。　“I　have　not　slept　under　a　roof　
since　I　left　the　country。”　

“Don’t　fret　your　eyelids　on　that　score；”　said　the　young　
gentleman。　“I’ve　got　to　be　in　London　tonight；　and　I　know　a　
’spectable　old　gentleman　as　lives　there；　wot’ll　give　you　lodgings　for　
nothink；　and　never　ask　for　the　change—that　is；　if　any　gentleman　
he　knows　interduces　you。　And　don’t　he　know　me？　Oh；　no！　Not　in　
the　least！　By　no　means。　Certainly　not！”　The　young　gentleman　
smiled；　as　if　to　intimate　that　the　latter　fragments　of　discourse　were　
playfully　ironical；　and　finished　the　beer　as　he　did　so。　

This　unexpected　offer　of　shelter　was　too　tempting　to　be　
resisted；　especially　as　it　was　immediately　followed　up；　by　the　
assurance　that　the　old　gentleman　referred　to；　would　doubtless　
provide　Oliver　with　a　comfortable　place；　without　loss　of　time　This　
led　to　a　more　friendly　and　confidential　dialogue；　from　which　Oliver　
discovered　that　his　friend’s　name　was　Jack　Dawkins；　and　that　he　
was　a　peculiar　pet　and　protégé　of　the　elderly　gentleman　before　
mentioned。　

Mr。　Dawkins’　appearance　did　not　say　a　vast　deal　in　favour　of　the　

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Oliver　Twist　

comforts　which　his　patron’s　interest　obtained　for　those　whom　he　
took　under　his　protection；　but；　as　he　had　a　rather　flighty　and　
dissolute　mode　of　conversing；　and　furthermore　avowed　that　
among　his　intimate　friends　he　was　better　known　by　the　sobriquet　
of　“The　Artful　Dodger；”　Oliver　concluded　that；　being　of　a　
dissipated　and　careless　turn；　the　moral　precept　of　his　benefactor　
had　hitherto　been　thrown　away　upon　him。　Under　this　impression；　
he　secretly　resolved　to　cultivate　the　good　opinion　of　the　old　
gentleman　as　quickly　as　possible；　and；　if　he　found　the　Dodger　
incorrigible；　as　he　more　than　half…suspected　he　should；　to　decline　
the　honour　of　his　further　acquaintance。　

As　John　Dawkins　objected　to　their　entering　London　before　
nightfall；　it　was　nearly　seven　o’clock　when　they　reached　the　
turnpike　at　Islington。　They　crossed　from　the　Angel　into　St。　John’s　
Road；　struck　down　the　small　street　which　terminates　at　Sadler’s　
Wells　Theatre；　through　Exmouth　Street　and　Coppice　Row；　down　
the　little　court　by　the　side　of　the　workhouse；　across　the　classic　
ground　which　once　bore　the　name　of　Hockley…in…the…Hole；　thence　
into　Little　Saffron　Hill；　and　so　into　Saffron　Hill　the　Great；　along　
which　the　Dodger　scudded　at　a　rapid　pace；　directing　Oliver　to　
follow　close　at　his　heels。　

Although　Oliver　had　enough　to　occupy　his　attention　in　keeping　
sight　of　his　leader；　he　could　not　help　bestowing　a　few　hasty　glances　
on　either　side　of　the　way；　as　he　passed　along。　A　dirtier　or　more　
wretched　place　he　had　never　seen。　The　street　was　very　narrow　
and　muddy；　and　the　air　was　impregnated　with　filthy　odours。　There　
were　a　good　many　small　shops；　but　the　only　stock　in　trade　
appeared　to　be　heaps　of　children；　who；　even　at　that　time　of　night；　
were　crawling　in　and　out　at　the　doors；　or　screaming　from　the　

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inside。　The　sole　places　that　seemed　to　prosper　amid　the　general　
blight　of　the　place；　were　the　public…houses；　and　in　them；　the　lowest　
orders　of　Irish　were　wrangling　with　might　and　main。　Covered　
ways　and　yards；　where　here　and　there　diverged　from　the　main　
street；　disclosed　little　knots　of　houses；　where　drunken　men　and　
women　were　positively　wallowing　in　filth；　and　from　several　of　the　
doorways；　great　ill…looking　fellows　were　cautiously　emerging；　
bound；　to　all　appearance；　on　no　very　well…disposed　or　harmless　
errands。　

Oliver　was　just　considering　whether　he　hadn’t　better　run　away；　
when　they　reached　the　bottom　of　the　hill。　His　conductor；　catching　
him　by　the　arm；　pushed　open　the　door　of　a　house　near　Field　Lane；　
and；　drawing　him　into　the　passage；　closed　it　behind　them。　

“Now；　then！”　cried　a　voice　from　below；　in　reply　to　a　whistle　
from　the　Dodger。　

“Plummy　and　slam！”　was　the　reply。　

This　seemed　to　be　some　watchword　or　signal　that　all　was　right；　
for　the　light　of　a　feeble　candle　gleamed　on　the　wall　at　the　remote　
end　of　the　passage；　and　a　man’s　face　peeped　out；　from　where　a　
balustrade　of　the　old　kitchen　staircase　had　been　broken　away。　

“There’s　two　on　you；”　said　the　man；　thrusting　the　candle　
farther　out；　and　shading　his　eyes　with　his　hand。　“Who’s　the　t’other　
one？”　

“A　new　pal；”　replied　Jack　Dawkins；　pulling　Oliver　forward。　

“Where　did　he　come　from？”　

“Greenland。　Is　Fagin　upstairs？”　

“Yes；　he’s　a…sortin’　the　wipes。　Up　with　you！”　The　candle　was　
drawn　back；　and　the　face　disappeared。　

Oliver；　groping　his　way　with　one　hand；　and　having　the　other　

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firmly　grasped　by　his　companion；　ascended　with　much　difficulty　
the　dark　and　broken　stairs；　which　his　conductor　mounted　with　an　
ease　and　expedition　that　showed　that　he　was　well　acquainted　with　
them。　He　threw　open　the　door　of　a　back　room；　and　drew　Oliver　in　
after　him。　

The　walls　and　ceiling　of　the　room　were　perfectly　black；　with　age　
and　dirt。　There　was　a　deal　table　before　the　fire：　upon　which　were　a　
candle；　stuck　in　a　ginger…beer　bottle；　two　or　three　pewter　pots；　a　
loaf　and　butter；　and　a　plate。　In　a　frying…pan；　which　was　on　the　fire；　
and　which　was　secured　to　the　mantel…shelf　by　a　string；　some　
sausages　were　cooking；　and　standing　over　them；　with　a　toasting…
fork　in　his　hand；　was　a　very　old；　shrivelled　Jew；　whose　villainous…
looking　and　repulsive　face　was　obscured　by　a　quantity　of　matted　
red　hair。　He　was　dressed　in　a　greasy　flannel　gown；　with　his　throat　
bare；　and　seemed　to　be　dividing　his　attention　between　the　frying…
pan　and　the　clothes…horse；　over　which　a　great　number　of　silk　
handkerchiefs　were　hanging。　Several　rough　beds　made　of　old　
sacks；　were　huddled　side　by　side　on　the　floor。　Seated　round　the　
table　were　four　or　five　boys；　none　older　than　the　Dodger；　smoking　
long　clay　pipes；　and　drinking　spirits　with　the　air　of　middle…aged　
men。　These　all　crowded　about　their　associate　as　he　whispered　a　
few　words　to　the　Jew；　and　then　turned　round　and　grinned　at　
Oliver。　So　did　the　Jew　himself；　toasting…fork　in　hand。　

“This　is　him；　Fagin；”　said　Jack　Dawkins；　“my　friend；　Oliver　
Twist。”　

The　Jew　grinned；　and；　making　a　low　obeisance　to　Oliver；　took　
him　by　the　hand；　and　hoped　he　should　have　the　honour　of　his　
intimate　acquaintance。　Upon　this；　the　young　gentlemen　with　the　
pipes　came　round　him；　and　shook　both　his　hands　very　hard—　

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especially　the　one　in　which　he　held　his　little　bundle。　One　young　
gentleman　was　very　anxious　to　hang　up　his　cap　for　him；　and　
another　was　so　obliging　as　to　put　his　hands　in　his　pockets；　in　order　
that；　as　he　was　very　tired；　he　might　not　have　the　trouble　of　
emptying　them；　himself；　when　he　went　to　bed。　These　civilities　
would　probably　have　been　extended　much　further；　but　for　a　liberal　
exercise　of　the　Jew’s　toasting…fork　on　the　heads　and　shoulders　of　
the　affectionate　youths　who　offered　them。　

“We　are　very　glad　to　see　you；　Oliver—very；”　said　the　Jew。　
“Dodger；　take　off　the　sausages；　and　draw　a　tub　near　the　fire　for　
Oliver。　Ah；　you’re　a…staring　at　the　pocket…handkerchiefs！　eh；　my　
dear！　There　are　a　good　many　of　’em；　ain’t　there？　We’ve　just　looked　
’em　out；　ready　for　the　wash；　that’s　all；　Oliver；　that’s　all。　Ha！　ha！　
ha！”　

The　latter　part　of　this　speech　was　hailed　by　a　boisterous　shout　
from　all　the　hopeful　pupils　of　the　merry　old　gentleman。　In　the　
midst　of　which；　they　went　to　supper。　

Oliver　ate　his　share；　and　the　Jew　then　mixed　him　a　glass　of　hot　
gin…and…water；　telling　him　he　must　drink　it　off　directly；　because　
another　gentleman　wanted　the　tumbler。　Oliver　did　as　he　was　
desired。　Immediately　afterwards　he　felt　himself　gently　lifted　on　to　
one　of　the　sacks；　and　then　he　sank　into　a　deep　sleep。　

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Chapter　9　

Containing　Further　Particulars　Concerning　The
Pleasant　Old　Gentleman；　And　His　Hopeful　Pupils。


It　was　late　next　morning　when　Oliver　awoke；　from　a　sound；　
long　sleep。　There　was　no　other　person　in　the　room　but　the　old　
Jew；　who　was　boiling　some　coffee　in　a　saucepan　for　breakfast；　
and　whistling　softly　to　himself　as　he　stirred　it　round　and　round；　
with　an　iron　spoon。　He　would　stop　every　now　and　then　to　listen　
when　there　was　the　least　noise　below；　and　when　he　had　satisfied　
himself；　he　would　go　on；　whistling　and　stirring　again；　as　before。　

Although　Oliver　had　roused　himself　from　sleep；　he　was　not　
thoroughly　awake。　There　is　a　drowsy　state；　between　sleeping　and　
waking；　when　you　dream　more　in　five　minutes　with　your　eyes　half…
open；　and　yourself　half…conscious　of　everything　that　is　passing　
around　you；　than　you　would　in　five　nights　with　your　eyes　fast　
closed；　and　your　senses　wrapped　in　perfect　unconsciousness。　At　
such　times；　a　mortal　knows　just　enough　of　what　his　mind　is　doing；　
to　form　some　g