href="#n_23" type="note">[23], Mrs. Quilp: these accidental parties are always the pleasantest,” said the dwarf, rubbing his hands very hard. “What? Not going, ladies? You are not going, surely?”
“And why not stop to supper, Quilp,” said the old lady, “if my daughter had a mind? There’s nothing dishonest or wrong in a supper, I hope?”
“Surely not,” returned the dwarf. “Why should there be?”
“My daughter’s your wife, Mr. Quilp, certainly,” said the old lady.
“So she is, certainly. So she is,” observed the dwarf.
“And she has a right to do as she likes, I hope, Quilp,” said the old lady trembling.
“Hope she has! Oh! Don’t you know she has? My dear,” said the dwarf, turning round and addressing his wife, “why don’t you always imitate your mother, my dear? She’s the ornament of her sex, your father said so every day of his life, I am sure he did.”
“Her father was a blessed man, Quilp, and worth twenty thousand of some people, twenty hundred million thousand.”
“I dare say,” remarked the dwarf, “he was a blessed man then; but I’m sure he is now. It was a happy release. I believe he had suffered a long time?”
The guests went down-stairs. Quilp’s wife sat trembling in a corner with her eyes fixed upon the ground, the little man planted himself before her, at some distance, and folding his arms looked steadily at her for a long time without speaking.
“Oh you nice creature!” were the words with which he broke silence. “Oh you precious darling! oh you delicious charmer!”
Mrs. Quilp sobbed, knowing that his compliments are the most extreme demonstrations of violence.
“She’s such,” said the dwarf, with a ghastly grin, “such a jewel, such a diamond, such a pearl, such a ruby, such a golden casket set with gems of all sorts! She’s such a treasure! I’m so fond of her!”
The poor little woman shivered from head to foot; and raising her eyes to his face, sobbed once more.
“The best of her is,” said the dwarf; “the best of her is that she’s so meek, and she’s so mild, and she has such an insinuating mother!”
Mr. Quilp stooped slowly down, and down, and down, until came between his wife’s eyes and the floor.
“Mrs. Quilp!”
“Yes, Quilp.”
“Am I nice to look at? Am I the handsomest creature in the world, Mrs. Quilp?”
Mrs. Quilp dutifully replied, “Yes, Quilp.”
“If ever you listen to these witches, I’ll bite you.”
Mr. Quilp made her clear the tea-board away, and bring the rum. Then he ordered cold water and the box of cigars; and after that he settled himself in an arm-chair with his little legs planted on the table.
5
The next day the dwarf was at the Quilp’s Wharf.
“Here’s somebody for you,” said the boy to Quilp.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ask!” said Quilp. “Ask, you dog.”
A little girl presented herself at the door.
“What, Nelly!” cried Quilp.
“Yes,” said the child; “it’s only me, sir.”
“Come in,” said Quilp. “Now come in and shut the door. What’s your message, Nelly?”
The child handed him a letter; Mr. Quilp began to read it. Little Nell stood timidly by and waited for his reply.
“Nelly!” said Mr. Quilp.
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you know what’s inside this letter, Nell?”
“No, sir!”
“Are you sure, quite sure, quite certain?”
“Quite sure, sir.”
“Well!” muttered Quilp. “I believe you. Hm! Gone already? Gone in four-and-twenty hours. What the devil has he done with it? That’s the mystery!”
He began to bite his nails.
“You look very pretty today, Nelly, charmingly pretty. Are you tired, Nelly?”
“No, sir. I’m in a hurry to get back.”
“There’s no hurry, little Nell, no hurry at all,” said Quilp. “How should you like to be my number two, Nelly?”
“To be what, sir?”
“My number two, Nelly; my second; my Mrs. Quilp,” said the dwarf.
The child looked frightened, but seemed not to understand him. Mr. Quilp hastened to explain his meaning more distinctly.
“To be Mrs. Quilp the second, when Mrs. Quilp the first is dead, sweet Nell,” said Quilp, “to be my wife, my little cherry-cheeked, red-lipped wife. Say that Mrs. Quilp lives five years, or only four, you’ll be just the proper age for me. Ha ha! Be a good girl, Nelly, a very good girl, and see one day you will become Mrs. Quilp of Tower Hill.”
The child shrunk from him, and trembled. Mr. Quilp only laughed.
“You will come with me to Tower Hill, and see Mrs. Quilp, that is, directly,” said the dwarf. “She’s very fond of you, Nell, though not so fond as I am. You will come home with me.”
“I must go back indeed,” said the child. “My grandfather told me to return directly I had the answer.”
“But you haven’t it, Nelly,” retorted the dwarf, “and won’t have it, and can’t have it, until we’re home, so you must go with me. Give me my hat, my dear, and we’ll go directly.”
With that, Mr. Quilp went outside, and saw two boys struggling.
“It’s Kit!” cried Nelly, clasping her hands, “poor Kit who came with me! Oh pray stop them, Mr. Quilp!”
“I’ll stop them,” cried Quilp, going into the little house and returning with a thick stick. “I’ll stop them. Now, my boys, I’ll fight you both. I’ll take both of you[24], both together, both together!”
With this the dwarf began to beat the fighters with his stick.
“I’ll beat you to a pulp, you dogs,” said Quilp. “I’ll bruise you till you’re copper-coloured, I’ll break your faces, I will!”
“Come, you drop that stick or it’ll be worse for you,” said the boy.
“Come
I’ll take both of you – я вам обоим всыплю
