书城小说巴纳比·拉奇
24289600000059

第59章 Chapter 18(1)

Gliding along the silent streets, and holding his course where theywere darkest and most gloomy, the man who had left the widow"shouse crossed London Bridge, and arriving in the City, plunged intothe backways, lanes, and courts, between Cornhill and Smithfield;with no more fixedness of purpose than to lose himself among theirwindings, and baffle pursuit, if any one were dogging his steps.

It was the dead time of the night, and all was quiet. Now and thena drowsy watchman"s footsteps sounded on the pavement, or thelamplighter on his rounds went flashing past, leaving behind alittle track of smoke mingled with glowing morsels of his hot redlink. He hid himself even from these partakers of his lonely walk,and, shrinking in some arch or doorway while they passed, issuedforth again when they were gone and so pursued his solitary way.

To be shelterless and alone in the open country, hearing the windmoan and watching for day through the whole long weary night; tolisten to the falling rain, and crouch for warmth beneath the leeof some old barn or rick, or in the hollow of a tree; are dismalthings--but not so dismal as the wandering up and down whereshelter is, and beds and sleepers are by thousands; a houselessrejected creature. To pace the echoing stones from hour to hour,counting the dull chimes of the clocks; to watch the lightstwinkling in chamber windows, to think what happy forgetfulnesseach house shuts in; that here are children coiled together intheir beds, here youth, here age, here poverty, here wealth, allequal in their sleep, and all at rest; to have nothing in commonwith the slumbering world around, not even sleep, Heaven"s gift toall its creatures, and be akin to nothing but despair; to feel, bythe wretched contrast with everything on every hand, more utterlyalone and cast away than in a trackless desert; this is a kind ofsuffering, on which the rivers of great cities close full many atime, and which the solitude in crowds alone awakens.

The miserable man paced up and down the streets--so long, sowearisome, so like each other--and often cast a wistful looktowards the east, hoping to see the first faint streaks of day.

But obdurate night had yet possession of the sky, and his disturbedand restless walk found no relief.

One house in a back street was bright with the cheerful glare oflights; there was the sound of music in it too, and the tread ofdancers, and there were cheerful voices, and many a burst oflaughter. To this place--to be near something that was awake andglad--he returned again and again; and more than one of those wholeft it when the merriment was at its height, felt it a check upontheir mirthful mood to see him flitting to and fro like an uneasyghost. At last the guests departed, one and all; and then thehouse was close shut up, and became as dull and silent as the rest.

His wanderings brought him at one time to the city jail. Insteadof hastening from it as a place of ill omen, and one he had causeto shun, he sat down on some steps hard by, and resting his chinupon his hand, gazed upon its rough and frowning walls as thougheven they became a refuge in his jaded eyes. He paced it round andround, came back to the same spot, and sat down again. He did thisoften, and once, with a hasty movement, crossed to where some menwere watching in the prison lodge, and had his foot upon the stepsas though determined to accost them. But looking round, he sawthat the day began to break, and failing in his purpose, turned andfled.

He was soon in the quarter he had lately traversed, and pacing toand fro again as he had done before. He was passing down a meanstreet, when from an alley close at hand some shouts of revelryarose, and there came straggling forth a dozen madcaps, whoopingand calling to each other, who, parting noisily, took differentways and dispersed in smaller groups.

Hoping that some low place of entertainment which would afford hima safe refuge might be near at hand, he turned into this court whenthey were all gone, and looked about for a half-opened door, orlighted window, or other indication of the place whence they hadcome. It was so profoundly dark, however, and so ill-favoured,that he concluded they had but turned up there, missing their way,and were pouring out again when he observed them. With thisimpression, and finding there was no outlet but that by which hehad entered, he was about to turn, when from a grating near hisfeet a sudden stream of light appeared, and the sound of talkingcame. He retreated into a doorway to see who these talkers were,and to listen to them.

The light came to the level of the pavement as he did this, and aman ascended, bearing in his hand a torch. This figure unlockedand held open the grating as for the passage of another, whopresently appeared, in the form of a young man of small stature anduncommon self-importance, dressed in an obsolete and very gaudyfashion.