Oliver Twist. Volume 2 of 3. Чарльз Диккенс
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Название: Oliver Twist. Volume 2 of 3
Автор: Чарльз Диккенс
Издательство: Public Domain
Жанр: Зарубежная классика
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The attendant stooped over the bed to ascertain, and nodded in the affirmative.
“Then perhaps she’ll go off in that way, if you don’t make a row,” said the young man. “Put the light on the floor, – she wont see it there.”
The attendant did as she was bidden, shaking her head meanwhile to intimate that the woman would not die so easily; and having done so, resumed her seat by the side of the other nurse, who had by this time returned. The mistress, with an expression of impatience, wrapped herself in her shawl and sat at the foot of the bed.
The apothecary’s apprentice, having completed the manufacture of the toothpick, planted himself in front of the fire and made good use of it for ten minutes or so, when, apparently growing rather dull, he wished Mrs. Corney joy of her job, and took himself off on tiptoe.
When they had sat in silence for some time the two old women rose from the bed, and crouching over the fire, held out their withered hands to catch the heat. The flame threw a ghastly light on their shrivelled faces, and made their ugliness appear perfectly terrible, as in this position they began to converse in a low voice.
“Did she say any more, Anny dear, while I was gone?” inquired the messenger.
“Not a word,” replied the other. “She plucked and tore at her arms for a little time; but I held her hands, and she soon dropped off. She hasn’t much strength in her, so I easily kept her quiet. I ain’t so weak for an old woman, although I am on parish allowance; – no, no!”
“Did she drink the hot wine the doctor said she was to have?” demanded the first.
“I tried to get it down,” rejoined the other; “but her teeth were tight set, and she clenched the mug so hard that it was as much as I could do to get it back again. So I drank it, and it did me good.”
Looking cautiously round to ascertain that they were not overheard, the two hags cowered nearer to the fire, and chuckled heartily.
“I mind the time,” said the first speaker, “when she would have done the same, and made rare fun of it afterwards.”
“Ay, that she would,” rejoined the other; “she had a merry heart. A many many beautiful corpses she laid out, as nice and neat as wax-work. My old eyes have seen them – ay, and these old hands touched them too; for I have helped her scores of times.”
Stretching forth her trembling fingers as she spoke, the old creature shook them exultingly before her face, and fumbling in her pocket brought out an old time-discoloured tin snuff-box, from which she shook a few grains into the outstretched palm of her companion, and a few more into her own. While they were thus employed, the matron, who had been impatiently watching until the dying woman should awaken from her stupor, joined them by the fire, and sharply asked how long she was to wait.
“Not long, mistress,” replied the second woman, looking up into her face. “We have none of us long to wait for Death. Patience, patience! he’ll be here soon enough for us all.”
“Hold your tongue, you doting idiot!” said the matron, sternly. “You, Martha, tell me; has she been in this way before?”
“Often,” answered the first woman.
“But will never be again,” added the second one; “that is, she’ll never wake again but once – and mind, mistress, that wont be for long.”
“Long or short,” said the matron, snappishly, “she wont find me here when she does, and take care, both of you, how you worry me again for nothing. It’s no part of my duty to see all the old women in the house die, and I wont – that’s more. Mind that, you impudent old harridans. If you make a fool of me again, I’ll soon cure you, I warrant you!”
She was bouncing away, when a cry from the two women, who had turned towards the bed, caused her to look round. The sick woman had raised herself upright, and was stretching her arms towards them.
“Who’s that?” she cried, in a hollow voice.
“Hush, hush!” said one of the women, stooping over her – “lie down, lie down!”
“I’ll never lie down again alive!” said the woman, struggling. “I will tell her! Come here – nearer. Let me whisper in your ear.”
She clutched the matron by the arm, and forcing her into a chair by the bedside was about to speak, when looking round, she caught sight of the two old women bending forward in the attitude of eager listeners.
“Turn them away,” said the woman, drowsily; “make haste – make haste!”
The two old crones, chiming in together, began pouring out many piteous lamentations that the poor dear was too far gone to know her best friends, and uttering sundry protestations that they would never leave her, when the superior pushed them from the room, closed the door, and returned to the bedside. On being excluded, the old ladies changed their tone, and cried through the keyhole that old Sally was drunk; which, indeed, was not unlikely, since, in addition to a moderate dose of opium prescribed by the apothecary, she was labouring under the effects of a final taste of gin and water which had been privily administered in the openness of their hearts by the worthy old ladies themselves.
“Now listen to me,” said the dying woman, aloud, as if making a great effort to revive one latent spark of energy. “In this very room – in this very bed – I once nursed a pretty young creetur’, that was brought into the house with her feet cut and bruised with walking, and all soiled with dust and blood. She gave birth to a boy, and died. Let me think – what was the year again?”
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