Activate Javascript or update your browser for the full Digital Library experience.
Previous Page
–
Next Page
OCR
u
LITTLE’ DORRIT. . . ‘ , ‘N 853
On the first-floor of the house was a Bank-a surpris-
ing experience for any gentleman of commercial pursuits
bringing laws for all mankind from a British cityewhere
two spare clerks, like dried dragoons, in green velvet
caps adorned with golden tassels, stood, bearded, behind
a small counter in a small room, containing no other vis-
ible objects than an empty iron-safe, with the door open,
a jug of water, and a papering of garlands of roses; but
who," on lawful requisition, by merely dipping their
hands out of sight, could. produce exhaustless mounds
of‘ five-franc pieces. ,Below the Bank, was a suite of
three or four rooms with barred windows, which had the
appearance of a jail for criminal rats. Above the Bank
was Mrs. Gowan’s residence. . i
‘ Notwithstanding that its walls were blotched, as if
missionary maps were bursting out of them to impart
' geograpliical knowledge ; notwithstanding that its weird
furniture wasforlornly faded and musty, and that the
prevailing Venetian odor of bilge water and an ebb-tide,
on a weedy shore was very strong; the place was better
within, than it promised. The door was opened by a
smiling'man like a reformed assassin-a temporary ser-
vant-‘-who ushered them into the room where Mrs.
Gowan sat : with the announcement that two beautiful
English ladies were come to see the mistress.
L-Mrs. Gowan, who was engaged in needlework, put her
work aside in a covered basket, and rose, a little hur-
riedly. Miss Fannywas excessively courteous to her,
and said the usual nothings with the skill of a veteran.
. .‘.‘Papa was extremely sorry,” proceeded Fanny, ‘(to
be engaged today (he is so much engaged here, our.ac-
quaintance being so wretchedly large I); and particu-
larly. requested me to bring his card for Mr. Gowan.
Thatlmay be sure to acquit myself of a commission
which he impressed-upon me at least a dozen . times, al-
low me to relieve my conscience by placing it on the
table at once.”
iVVhich she did, with veteran ease. '
.“, XVe have been,” said Fanny, “charmed to under-
stand that you know the Merdles. VVe hope it may be
'another means of bringing us together.”
.“.’l‘hey are friends,” said Mrs. Gowan, “ of Mr. Gownn’s
family. .I.have not yet had the pleasure of a personal
introduction to Mrs. Mcrdle, butl suppose I shall be pre- '
scnted to her at Rome.”
':“Indeed?” returned Fanny, with an appearance of
amiably quenching her own superiority. “ I think you'll
like her.” ‘
.“ Youknow her very well ?” v
“VVhy, you see,” said Fanny, with a frank action of
her pretty shoulders, “in London one knows every one.
“'3 met her on our way here, and, to say the truth, papa
was at first rather cross with her for taking one of the
moms that our people had ordered for us. However, of
course that soon blew over, and we were all good friends
again.’’. . ,
i Although the visit had, as yet, given Little Dorrit no
opportunity of conversing with Mrs. Gowan, there was a
silent understanding between them, which did as well.
She looked at Mrs. Gewan' with keen and unabated in-
terest; the sound of her voice was thrilling to her;
nothing that was near her, or about her, or at all con-
cerned her, escaped Little Dorrit. She was quicker to per-
ceivc the slightest matter here, than in any other case-
butone.1- ’ v ‘ ‘ ,
“ You have been quite well,” she now said, “ since
that night?” - . v
“Quite, my dear. . And you ?” p . .
“ Oh I I am always well,” said Little Dorrit, timidly.
“ I-yes, thank you.” ‘ . ,
. There was no.reason for her faltering and breaking
off, other than that Mrs. Gowan had touched her hand
in speaking to her, and their looks had met. Something
thoughtfully apprehensive in the large, soft eyes, had
checked Little Dorrit in an instant. .
‘(You don’t know that you are a favourite of my lins-
band’s. and" thatl am almost bound to be jealous of
F0111?’ said Mrs. Gowan. - -
Little Dorrit, blushin , shook her head.
“ He will tell you, if ic tells you what he tells. me,
t at you are quieter, and quicker of resource, than any
z one he ever saw." ‘ ' V .. ' V
“.He speaks far too well of me,” said Little Dorrit, ,
“I doubt that; but I don’t at all doubt that I must
tell him you are here. I should never be forgiven, if I
were to let youeand Miss Dorrit’-"go, without doing so.'
May I? You can excuse the disorder and discomfort, of
a painter’s studio?” , “
The inquiries were addressed to Miss Fanny, who
graciously replied that she would be beyond anything in-'
terested and enchanted. Mrs. Gowan went to a door,
looked, in beyond it, and came back.
favour to come in,” said she.
pleased I”
The first object that confronted Little Dorrit, entering
first, was Blandois of Paris in a great cloak and a fur-
tive slouclied hat, standing on a throne-platform in a
corner, as he had stood on the Great Saint Bernard,"
when the warning arms seemed to be all pointing up ‘at
him. She recoiled from this figure, as it smiled at her.
"‘Don’t be alarmed,” said Gowan, coming from his
easel behind the door. “ lt’s only Blandois. He is doing-
duty as a model to-day. I am making a study of him.
It saves me money to turn him to some use. “'0 poor
painters have none to spare.”
Blandois of Paris pulled off his slouclied hat, and sal-
uted the ladies without coming out of his corner.
“ A thousand pardons l” said he. “ But‘ the Profes-
sor here, is so inexorable with me, that I am afraid to
stir.”
“ Don't stir, then,” said Gowan, coolly, as the sisters
approached the ease]. “ Let the ladies at least see the
original of the daub, that they may know what it’s
meant for. There he stands, you see. i A bravo waiting
forhis prey, a distinguished noble waiting to save his-
country, the common enemy waiting to do somebody a
had turn, an angelic messenger waiting to do somebody
a good turn-whatever you think he looks most like i” r
“ Say, Professcre Mio, a poor gentleman waiting to do
homage to elegance and beauty,” remarked Blandois.
“ Or say, Cattivo Seggetto Mic,” returned Gowan,
touchin the painted face with his brush in the part
where t ic teal face had moved, “a murderer after the
fact. Show that white hand of yours, Blandois. ' Put
it outside the cloak. Keep it still.” I ’ ’
Blandois' hand was unsteady ; but he laughed, and
that would naturally shake it. ' '
"He was,formcrly in some scuflle with another mur-
derer, or with a victim, you observe,” said Gowan, put-
ting in the markings of -the hand with a quick, impa-
tient, unskilful touch, “ and these areqthe tokens of it.
Outside the cloak, mun I-Corpo di San Marco, what are
you thinking of l” ‘
Blandois of Paris shook with a laugh again, so that
his hand ‘shook more; nowhe raised it to twist his
moustache, which had a damp appearance; and now he
stood in the required position with a little new swagger.
His face was so directed in reference to the spot where
Little Dorrit stood by the easel, that throughout he
looked at her. Once attracted by his peculiar eyes, slio
could not remove her own, and they had looked at each
other all the time. She trembled now; Gowan, feeling
it, and supposing her to be alarmed by the lzirge‘dog
beside him, whose head she caressed in her hand, and
who had just uttered a low growl, glanced at her to say,
“ He won’t hurt you, Miss Dorrit." .
“ I am not afraid of him," she returned, in the same
breath ; “but will you look at him?” H
In a moment Gowau had thrown down his brush, and
seizedthe dog with both hands by the collar.
“ Blandois I How can you be such afool as to provoke
him 1' By Heaven, and the other place too, lie’ll tear you
to bits l Lie dowul Lionl Do you hear my voice, you‘
rebel i ” ,
The great dog, regardless of beinghalf-choked by his
collar, was obdurately pulling with his dead weight
against his master‘, resolved to get across the room. He
had been crouching for a spring, at the moment when his
master caught him. ‘ ' <
“ Lion I Lion l " He was up on his hind legs, and it
was a wrestle between master and‘ dog. “Get back!
Down, Lion ! Get out of hissight, Blandois I VVhat devil
have you conjured into the dog? ” q '
“ I have done nothing to him.”
“I knew he would be
" Do Henry the" .