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already know。
'Whoof！ The fair Gowana！' he said； lighting a third cigarette with a
sound as if his lightest breath could blow her away。 'Charming； but
imprudent！ For it was not well of the fair Gowana to make mysteries of
letters from old lovers； in her bedchamber on the mountain； that her
husband might not see them。 No； no。 That was not well。 Whoof！ The Gowana
was mistaken there。'
'I earnestly hope；' cried Arthur aloud； 'that Pancks may not be long
gone； for this man's presence pollutes the room。'
'Ah！ But he'll flourish here； and everywhere；' said Rigaud； with an
exulting look and snap of his fingers。 'He always has； he always will！'
Stretching his body out on the only three chairs in the room besides
that on which Clennam sat； he sang； smiting himself on the breast as the
gallant personage of the song。
'Who passes by this road so late？
pagnon de la Majolaine！
Who passes by this road so late？
Always gay！
'Sing the Refrain； pig！ You could sing it once； in another jail。 Sing
it！ Or； by every Saint who was stoned to death； I'll be affronted and
promising； and then some people who are not dead yet； had better have
been stoned along with them！'
'Of all the king's knights 'tis the flower；
pagnon de la Majolaine！
Of all the king's knights 'tis the flower；
Always gay！'
Partly in his old habit of submission； partly because his not doing it
might injure his benefactor； and partly because he would as soon do
it as anything else； Cavalletto took up the Refrain this time。 Rigaud
laughed； and fell to smoking with his eyes shut。
Possibly another quarter of an hour elapsed before Mr Pancks's step was
heard upon the stairs； but the interval seemed to Clennam insupportably
long。 His step was attended by another step； and when Cavalletto opened
the door； he admitted Mr Pancks and Mr Flintwinch。 The latter was no
sooner visible； than Rigaud rushed at him and embraced him boisterously。
'How do you find yourself； sir？' said Mr Flintwinch； as soon as he could
disengage himself； which he struggled to do with very little ceremony。
'Thank you； no； I don't want any more。' This was in reference to another
menace of attention from his recovered friend。
'Well； Arthur。 You remember what I said to you about sleeping dogs and
missing ones。 It's e true； you see。'
He was as imperturbable as ever； to all appearance； and nodded his head
in a moralising way as he looked round the room。
'And this is the Marshalsea prison for debt！' said Mr Flintwinch。 'Hah！
you have brought your pigs to a very indifferent market； Arthur。'
If Arthur had patience； Rigaud had not。 He took his little Flintwinch；
with fierce playfulness； by the two lapels of his coat； and cried：
'To the Devil with the Market； to the Devil with the Pigs； and to the
Devil with the Pig…Driver！ Now！ Give me the answer to my letter。'
'If you can make it convenient to let go a moment； sir；' returned Mr
Flintwinch； 'I'll first hand Mr Arthur a little note that I have for
him。'
He did so。 It was in his mother's maimed writing； on a slip of paper；
and contained only these words：
'I hope it is enough that you have ruined yourself。 Rest contented
without more ruin。 Jeremiah Flintwinch is my messenger and
representative。 Your affectionate M。 C。'
Clennam read this twice； in silence； and then tore it to pieces。 Rigaud
in the meanwhile stepped into a chair； and sat himself on the back with
his feet upon the seat。
'Now； Beau Flintwinch；' he said； when he had closely watched the note to
its destruction； 'the answer to my letter？'
'Mrs Clennam did not write； Mr Blandois； her hands being cramped；
and she thinking it as well to send it verbally by me。' Mr Flintwinch
screwed this out of himself； unwillingly and rustily。 'She sends
her pliments； and says she doesn't on the whole wish to term
you unreasonable； and that she agrees。 But without prejudicing the
appointment that stands for this day week。'
Monsieur Rigaud； after indulging in a fit of laughter； descended from
his throne； saying； 'Good！ I go to seek an hotel！' But； there his eyes
encountered Cavalletto； who was still at his post。
'e； Pig；' he added； 'I have had you for a follower against my will；
now； I'll have you against yours。 I tell you； my little reptiles； I
am born to be served。 I demand the service of this contrabandist as my
domestic until this day week。'
In answer to Cavalletto's look of inquiry； Clennam made him a sign
to go； but he added aloud； 'unless you are afraid of him。' Cavalletto
replied with a very emphatic finger…negative。'No； master； I am not
afraid of him； when I no more keep it secrettementally that he was once
my rade。' Rigaud took no notice of either remark until he had lighted
his last cigarette and was quite ready for walking。
'Afraid of him；' he said then； looking round upon them all。 'Whoof！ My
children； my babies； my little dolls； you are all afraid of him。 You
give him his bottle of wine here； you give him meat； drink； and lodging
there； you dare not touch him with a finger or an epithet。 No。 It is his
character to triumph！ Whoof！
'Of all the king's knights he's the flower； And he's always gay！'
With this adaptation of the Refrain to himself； he stalked out of the
room closely followed by Cavalletto； whom perhaps he had pressed into
his service because he tolerably well knew it would not be easy to get
rid of him。 Mr Flintwinch； after scraping his chin； and looking about
with caustic disparagement of the Pig…Market； nodded to Arthur； and
followed。 Mr Pancks； still penitent and depressed； followed too； after
receiving with great attention a secret word or two of instructions from
Arthur； and whispering back that he would see this affair out； and stand
by it to the end。
The prisoner； with the feeling that he was more despised； more scorned
and repudiated； more helpless； altogether more miserable and fallen than
before； was left alone again。
CHAPTER 29。 A Plea in the Marshalsea
Haggard anxiety and remorse are bad panions to be barred up with。
Brooding all day； and resting very little indeed at night； t will not
arm a man against misery。 Next morning； Clennam felt that his health was
sinking； as his spirits had already sunk and that the weight under which
he bent was bearing him down。
Night after night he had risen from his bed of wretchedness at twelve or
one o'clock； and had sat at his window watching the sickly lamps in the
yard； and looking upward for the first wan trace of day； hours before it
was possible that the sky could show it to him。 Now when the night came；
he could not even persuade himself to undress。
For a burning restlessness set in； an agonised impatience of the prison；
and a conviction that he was going to break his heart and die there；
which caused him indescribable suffering。 His dread and hatred of the
place became so intense that he felt it a labour to draw his breath in
it。 The sensation of being stifled sometimes so overpowered him； that
he would stand at the window holding his throat and gasping。 At the
same time a longing for other air； and a yearning to be beyond the blind
blank wall； made him feel as if he must go mad with the ardour of the
desire。
Many other prisoners had had experience of this condition before him；
and its violence and continuity had worn themselves out in their cases；
as they did in his。 Two nights and a day exhausted it。 It came back by
fits； but those grew fainter and returned at lengthening intervals。 A
desolate calm succeeded； and the middle of the week found him settled
down in the despondency of low； slow fever。
With Cavalletto and Pancks away； he had no visitors to fear but Mr and
Mrs Plornish。 His anxiety； in reference to that worthy pair； was that
they should not e near him； for； in the morbid state of his nerves；
he sought to be left alone； and spared the being seen so subdued and
weak。 He wrote a note to Mrs Plornish representing himself as occupied
with his affairs； and bound by the necessity of devoting himself to
them； to remain for a time even without the pleasant interruption of
a sight of her kind face。 As to Young John； who looked in daily at a
certain hour； when the turnkeys were relieved； to ask if he could do
anything for him； he always made a pretence of being engaged in writing；
and to answer cheerfully in the negative。 The subject of their only
long conversation had never been revived between them。 Through all these
changes of unhappiness； however； it had never lost its hold on Clennam's
mind。
The sixth day of the appointed week was a moist； hot； misty day。 It
seemed as though the prison's poverty； and shabbiness； and dirt； were
growing in the sultry atmosphere。 With an aching head and a weary heart；
Clennam had watched the miserable night out； listening to the fall of
rain on the yard pavement； thinking of its softer fall upon the country
earth。 A blurred circle of yellow haze had risen up in the sky in lieu
of sun； and he had watched the patch it put upon his wall； like a bit of
the prison's raggedness。 He had heard the gates open； and the badly shod
feet that waited outside shuffle in； and