Крошка Доррит

Chapter 1. Fellow Travellers

           

           Hefollowedherdownwithhissmilingpoliteness,followedherin,andresumedhisseatinthebestplaceinthehearth.Therewiththewood-fire,whichwasbeginningtoburnlow,risingandfallinguponhiminthedarkroom,hesatwithhislegsthrustouttowarm,drinkingthehotwinedowntothelees,withamonstrousshadowimitatinghimonthewallandceiling.

           Thetiredcompanyhadbrokenup,andalltherestweregonetobedexcepttheyounglady’sfather,whodozedinhischairbythefire.Thetravellerhadbeenatthepainsofgoingalongwayup-stairstohissleeping-roomtofetchhispocket-flaskofbrandy.Hetoldthemso,ashepoureditscontentsintowhatwasleftofthewine,anddrankwithanewrelish.

           ‘MayIask,sir,ifyouareonyourwaytoItaly?’

           Thegrey-hairedgentlemanhadrousedhimself,andwaspreparingtowithdraw.Heansweredintheaffirmative.

           ‘Ialso!’saidthetraveller.‘Ishallhopetohavethehonourofofferingmycomplimentsinfairerscenes,andundersoftercircumstances,thanonthisdismalmountain.’

           Thegentlemanbowed,distantlyenough,andsaidhewasobligedtohim.

           ‘Wepoorgentlemen,sir,’saidthetraveller,pullinghismoustachedrywithhishand,forhehaddippeditinthewineandbrandy;‘wepoorgentlemendonottravellikeprinces,butthecourtesiesandgracesoflifeareprecioustous.Toyourhealth,sir!’

           ‘Sir,Ithankyou.’

           ‘Tothehealthofyourdistinguishedfamily—ofthefairladies,yourdaughters!’

           ‘Sir,Ithankyouagain,Iwishyougoodnight

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