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oliver twist(雾都孤儿(孤星血泪))-第35章

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to be seen or heard—which he had as much chance of being; as if 
he had lived inside the ball of St。 Paul’s Cathedral。 

One afternoon; the Dodger and Master Bates being engaged out 
that evening; the first…named young gentleman took it into his 
head to evince some anxiety regarding the decoration of his 
person (which to do him justice; was by no means an habitual 
weakness with him); and; with this end and aim; he 
condescendingly commanded Oliver to assist him in his toilet; 
straightway。 

Oliver was but too glad to make himself useful; too happy to 
have some faces; however bad; to look upon; and too desirous to 
conciliate those about him; when he could honestly do so; to throw 
any objection in the way of this proposal。 So he at once expressed 
his readiness; and; kneeling on the floor; while the Dodger sat 
upon the table; so that he could take his foot in his lap; he applied 
himself to a process which Mr。 Dawkins designated as “japanning 
his trotter…cases。” Which phrase; rendered into plain English; 
signifieth; cleaning his boots。 

Whether it was the sense of freedom and independence which a 
rational animal may be supposed to feel when he sits on a table in 
an easy attitude smoking a pipe; swinging one leg carelessly to and 
fro; and having his boots cleaned all the time; without even the 
past trouble of having taken them off; or the prospective misery of 
putting them on; to disturb his reflections; or whether it was the 
goodness of the tobacco that soothed the feelings of the Dodger; or 
the mildness of the beer that mollified his thoughts; he was 
evidently tinctured; for the nonce; with a spice of romance and 

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enthusiasm; foreign to his general nature。 He looked down on 
Oliver; with a thoughtful countenance; for a brief space; and then; 
raising his head; and heaving a gentle sigh; said; half in 
abstractions; and half to Mr。 Bates: 

“What a pity it is he isn’t a prig!” 

“Ah!” said Master Charles Bates; “he don’t know what’s good 
for him。” 

The Dodger sighed again; and resumed his pipe: as did Charley 
Bates。 They both smoked; for some seconds; in silence。 

“I suppose you don’t even know what a prig is?” said the 
Dodger mournfully。 

“I think I know that;” replied Oliver; looking up。 “It’s a th— 
You’re one; are you not?” inquired Oliver; checking himself。 

“I am;” replied the Dodger。 “I’d scorn to be anything else。” Mr。 
Dawkins gave his hat a ferocious cock; after delivering this 
sentiment; and looked at Master Bates; as if to denote that he 
would feel obliged by his saying anything to the contrary。 

“I am;” repeated the Dodger。 “So’s Charley。 So’s Fagin。 So’s 
Sikes。 So’s Nancy。 So’s Bet。 So we all are; down to the dog; and 
he’s the downiest one of the lot!” 

“And the least given to preaching;” added Charley Bates。 

“He wouldn’t so much as bark in a witness…box; for fear of 
committing himself; no; nor if you tied him up in one; and left him 
there without wittles for a fortnight;” said the Dodger。 

“Not a bit of it;” observed Charley。 

“He’s a rum dog。 Don’t he look fierce at any strange cove that 
laughs or sings when he’s in company!” pursued the Dodger。 
“Won’t he growl at all; when he hears a fiddle playing! And don’t 
he hate other dogs as ain’t of his breed! Oh; no!” 

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Oliver Twist 189 

“He’s an out…and…out Christian;” said Charley。 

This was merely intended as a tribute to the animal’s abilities; 
but it was an appropriate remark in another sense; if Master Bates 
had only known it; for there are a good many ladies and 
gentlemen; claiming to be out…and…out Christians; between whom; 
and Mr。 Sikes’s dog; there exist strong and singular points of 
resemblance。 

“Well; well;” said the Dodger; recurring to the point from which 
they had strayed; with that mindfulness of his profession which 
influenced all his proceedings。 “This hasn’t got anything to do 
with young Green here。” 

“No more it has;” said Charley。 “Why don’t you put yourself 
under Fagin; Oliver—” 

“And make your fortun’ out of hand?” added the Dodger; with a 
grin。 

“And so be able to retire on your property; and do the genteel; 
as I mean to; in the very next leap…year but four that ever comes; 
and the forty…second Tuesday in Trinity…week;” said Charley 
Bates。 

“I don’t like it;” rejoined Oliver timidly; “I wish they would let 
me go。 I—I—would rather go。” 

“And Fagin would rather not!” rejoined Charley。 

Oliver knew this too well: but thinking it might be dangerous to 
express his feelings more openly; he only sighed; and went on with 
his boot…cleaning。 

“Go!” exclaimed the Dodger。 “Why; where’s your spirit? Don’t 
you take any pride out of yourself? Would you go and be 
dependent on your friends?” 

“Oh; blow that!” said Master Bates; drawing two or three silk 

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Oliver Twist 190 

handkerchiefs from his pocket; and tossing them into a cupboard; 
“that’s too mean; that is。” 

“I couldn’t do it;” said the Dodger; with an air of haughty 
disgust。 

“You can leave your friends; though;” said Oliver; with a half…
smile; “and let them be punished for what you did。” 

“That;” rejoined the Dodger; with a wave of his pipe—“that was 
all out of consideration for Fagin; ’cause the traps know that we 
work together; and he might have got into trouble if we hadn’t 
made our lucky; that was the move; wasn’t it; Charley?” 

Master Bates nodded assent; and would have spoken; but the 
recollection of Oliver’s flight came so suddenly upon him; that the 
smoke he was inhaling got entangled with a laugh; and went up 
into his head; and down into his throat; and brought on a fit of 
coughing and stamping; about five minutes long。 

“Look here!” said the Dodger; drawing forth a handful of 
shillings and halfpence; “here’s a jolly life! What’s the odds where 
it comes from? Here; catch hold; there’s plenty more where they 
were took from。 You won’t; won’t you? Oh; you precious flat!” 

“It’s naughty; ain’t it; Oliver?” inquired Charley Bates。 “He’ll 
come to be scragged; won’t he?” 

“I don’t know what that means;” replied Oliver。 

“Something in this way; old feller;” said Charley。 As he said it; 
Master Bates caught up an end of his neckerchief; and; holding it 
erect in the air; dropped his head on his shoulder; and jerked a 
curious sound through his teeth; thereby indicating; by a lively 
pantomimic representation; that scragging and hanging were one 
and the same thing。 

“That’s what it means;” said Charley。 “Look how he stares; 

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Oliver Twist 191 

Jack! I never did see such prime company as that ’ere boy; he’ll be 
the death of me; I know he will。” Master Charles Bates; having 
laughed heartily again; resumed his pipe with tears in his eves。 

“You’ve been brought up bad;” said the Dodger; surveying his 
boots with much satisfaction when Oliver had polished them。 
“Fagin will make something of you; though; or you’ll be the first he 
ever had that turned out unprofitable。 You’d better begin at once; 
for you’ll come to the trade long before you think of it; and you’re 
only losing time; Oliver。” 

Master Bates backed this advice with sundry moral 
admonitions of his own; which; being exhausted; he and his friend 
Mr。 Dawkins launched into a glowing description of the numerous 
pleasures incidental to the life they led; interspersed with a variety 
of hints to Oliver that the best thing he could do; would be to 
secure Fagin’s favour without more delay; by the means which 
they themselves had employed to gain it。 

“And always put this in your pipe; Nolly;” said the Dodger; as 
the Jew was heard unlocking the door above; “if you don’t take 
fogles and tickers—” 

“What’s the good of talking in that way?” interposed Master 
Bates; “he don’t know what you mean。” 

“If you don’t take pocket…handkerchiefs and watches;” said the 
Dodger; reducing his conversation to the level of Oliver’s capacity; 
“some other cove will; so that the coves that lose ’em will be all the 
worse; and you’ll be all the worse too; and nobody half a ha’p’orth 
the better; except the chaps wot gets them—and you’ve just as 
good a right to them as they have。” 

“To be sure; to be sure!” said the Jew; who had entered; unseen 
by Oliver。 “It all lies in a nutshell; my dear; in a nutshell; take the 

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Dodger’s word for it。 Ha! ha! ha! He understands the catechism of 
his trade。” 

The old man rubbed his hands gleefully together; as he 
corroborated the Dodger’s reasoning in these terms; and chuckled 
with delight at his pupil’s proficiency。 

The conversation proceeded no further at this time; for the Jew 
had returned home accompanied by Miss Betsy; and a gentleman 
whom Oliver had never seen before; but who was accosted by the 
Dodger as To
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