Little Dorrit | Page 4

to the left here, Nice.
Round by the Cornice to Genoa. Genoa Mole and Harbour. Quarantine
Ground. City there; terrace gardens blushing with the bella donna. Here,
Porto Fino. Stand out for Leghorn. Out again for Civita Vecchia. so
away to-- hey! there's no room for Naples;' he had got to the wall by
this time; 'but it's all one; it's in there!'
He remained on his knees, looking up at his fellow-prisoner with a
lively look for a prison. A sunburnt, quick, lithe, little man, though
rather thickset. Earrings in his brown ears, white teeth lighting up his
grotesque brown face, intensely black hair clustering about his brown
throat, a ragged red shirt open at his brown breast. Loose, seaman-like
trousers, decent shoes, a long red cap, a red sash round his waist, and a
knife in it.
'Judge if I come back from Naples as I went! See here, my master!
Civita Vecchia, Leghorn, Porto Fino, Genoa, Cornice, Off Nice (which
is in there), Marseilles, you and me. The apartment of the jailer and his
keys is where I put this thumb; and here at my wrist they keep the
national razor in its case--the guillotine locked up.'
The other man spat suddenly on the pavement, and gurgled in his

throat.
Some lock below gurgled in its throat immediately afterwards, and then
a door crashed. Slow steps began ascending the stairs; the prattle of a
sweet little voice mingled with the noise they made; and the
prison-keeper appeared carrying his daughter, three or four years old,
and a basket.
'How goes the world this forenoon, gentlemen? My little one, you see,
going round with me to have a peep at her father's birds. Fie, then!
Look at the birds, my pretty, look at the birds.'
He looked sharply at the birds himself, as he held the child up at the
grate, especially at the little bird, whose activity he seemed to mistrust.
'I have brought your bread, Signor John Baptist,' said he (they all spoke
in French, but the little man was an Italian); 'and if I might recommend
you not to game--'
'You don't recommend the master!' said John Baptist, showing his teeth
as he smiled.
'Oh! but the master wins,' returned the jailer, with a passing look of no
particular liking at the other man, 'and you lose. It's quite another thing.
You get husky bread and sour drink by it; and he gets sausage of Lyons,
veal in savoury jelly, white bread, strachino cheese, and good wine by
it. Look at the birds, my pretty!'
'Poor birds!' said the child.
The fair little face, touched with divine compassion, as it peeped
shrinkingly through the grate, was like an angel's in the prison. John
Baptist rose and moved towards it, as if it had a good attraction for him.
The other bird remained as before, except for an impatient glance at the
basket.
'Stay!' said the jailer, putting his little daughter on the outer ledge of the
grate, 'she shall feed the birds. This big loaf is for Signor John Baptist.
We must break it to get it through into the cage. So, there's a tame bird

to kiss the little hand! This sausage in a vine leaf is for Monsieur
Rigaud. Again--this veal in savoury jelly is for Monsieur Rigaud.
Again--these three white little loaves are for Monsieur Rigaud. Again,
this cheese--again, this wine--again, this tobacco--all for Monsieur
Rigaud. Lucky bird!'
The child put all these things between the bars into the soft, Smooth,
well-shaped hand, with evident dread--more than once drawing back
her own and looking at the man with her fair brow roughened into an
expression half of fright and half of anger. Whereas she had put the
lump of coarse bread into the swart, scaled, knotted hands of John
Baptist (who had scarcely as much nail on his eight fingers and two
thumbs as would have made out one for Monsieur Rigaud), with ready
confidence; and, when he kissed her hand, had herself passed it
caressingly over his face. Monsieur Rigaud, indifferent to this
distinction, propitiated the father by laughing and nodding at the
daughter as often as she gave him anything; and, so soon as he had all
his viands about him in convenient nooks of the ledge on which he
rested, began to eat with an appetite.
When Monsieur Rigaud laughed, a change took place in his face, that
was more remarkable than prepossessing. His moustache went up under
his nose, and his nose came down over his moustache, in a very sinister
and cruel manner.
'There!' said the jailer, turning his basket upside down to beat the
crumbs out, 'I have expended all the money I received; here is the note
of it, and that's a thing accomplished. Monsieur Rigaud, as