Chapter 6 Chapter 03

In this chapter, the reader can see Mr. Dombey, the head of the family, as a man and as a father The funeral of the late lady was performed to the complete satisfaction of the undertaker and all the neighboring inhabitants (who are usually fastidious on such occasions, and would be offended at any omission or defect in ceremonies); After this, the various members of Mr. Dombey's family returned to their original positions in the family system.This little world, like the great world out in the open, easily forgets the dead; when the cook says, "She was a quiet lady," and the housekeeper says, "It is a After the butler said "Who would have expected this to happen?" the maid said "she couldn't believe it" and the manservant said "it seemed like a dream", they There was nothing more to say on the subject, and it began to feel that their mourning clothes were worn out.

Richards was accommodated upstairs in a respectable state of captivity; for her the dawn of her new life was cold and gray.Mr Dombey's mansion is a grand house situated on the shady side of a dark, very elegant street, in the area between Portland Crossroads and Bryant Square, lined with Tall houses.It was a house on the corner of the street, and it was very spacious inside, including cellars, frowning at them from the barred windows and squinting at them from the sideways door to the dustbin.It was a gloomy, dreary house, with a round back, and contained a whole set of drawing-rooms; in front of it was a stone-paved courtyard, in which stood two dead trees, their trunks and branches blackened, There was a rattling, not a rustling, because the leaves were all dried up by the smoke.The summer sun only shines on this street at breakfast time in the morning, when the water trucks, the second-hand clothes dealers, the geranium vendors, the umbrella mend The man whose bells jingle jingle came here with the sun.The sun soon disappears, and the day never returns; the orchestra and the punch show come next; A porcupine also came to perform acrobatics, for a change of entertainment; towards dusk the butlers (whose family had gone out to supper) began to stand at the door; The street, but every night without success.

-------- ① Punch: The protagonist in the British puppet show, his back is hunchback, his nose is very long, and it is hook-shaped, his wife named Judy (Judy), often quarreled with him. The inside of the mansion was as drab as the outside.When the funeral was over, Mr. Dombey ordered the furniture to be covered--perhaps to be reserved for the use of his son, with whom all his plans were connected--; Except for the used room, all other rooms are left unfurnished.Therefore, the tables and chairs were piled in the middle of the room, covered with large shrouds, forming all kinds of mysterious and fantastic shapes.Bell handles, curtains, mirrors, bound in the papers of magazines, dailies, and weeklies, were forced to give fragmentary accounts of the deaths and grisly murders they contained.Each chandelier or branch candlestick, wrapped in Dutch burlap, looked like a giant teardrop falling from the eye of the ceiling.The smell coming from the chimney was like coming from a catacomb or a damp place.The portrait of the dead and interred lady was framed in ghastly bandages, looking ghastly.At every gust of wind a few straws from the neighboring stables blew round the corner; these straws had been scattered in front of the house when she was ill, and the moldy remnants of them still cling to the the neighboring houses; which were often drawn by some unseen force to the threshold of the squalid houses directly opposite, waiting to be rented, now spouting, in mournful tones, to Mr. Dombey's window with.

The rooms Mr. Dombey reserved for himself were connected with the front hall, and they consisted of a sitting room, a library, and a small glass room for the conservatory or breakfast room.The library was really a powder room, so the smells of hot-pressed paper, vellum, Moroccan leather, Russian leather and several pairs of boots competed in the room.From the conservatory one could see the aforementioned two trees and several cats prowling.The three houses communicate with each other.In the morning, when Mr. Dombey was having breakfast in one of the first-mentioned rooms, or in the afternoon, when he came home to supper, a bell was rung to summon Richards to this She came to the glass room and walked around there holding the child she raised.At these times she could catch a glimpse of Mr Dombey sitting in the dark distance, over the dark heavy furniture (his father had lived in the mansion for many years, many of its furnishings were old-fashioned and dull), looking toward Looking out at the baby.From these glimpses she began to form some thoughts of him in his solitude, as if he were a lonely prisoner in a cell, or a strange ghost who could not speak to him or do anything to him. learn.

Little Paul Dombey's nurse had led such a life herself, and had led little Paul with her for some weeks.She never went out without Mrs Chick.Mrs. Chick, usually accompanied by Miss Tox, came to visit on fine mornings, and led her and the baby out for a walk, or in other words, to walk solemnly up and down the sidewalk, like a pedestrian. Like a funeral procession.One day, when she had returned upstairs after wandering somberly through the deserted rooms, and was about to sit down in her own room, the door opened slowly and calmly, and a dark-eyed little girl Peek into the room. "This must be Miss Florence coming back from her aunt's," thought Richards, who had never seen the child before. "I hope you are well, miss."

"Is this my brother?" the girl asked, pointing to the baby. "Yes, my baby," Richards replied. "Come and kiss him." But the girl did not come forward, but looked at her face and asked: "What did you do to my mother?" "God bless the little man!" cried Richards. "What a sad question! What did I do? I didn't do anything, miss." "What did they do to my mother?" the girl asked. "I never saw anything so sentimental in my life!" remarked Richards, naturally substituting a child of her own for the girl in similar circumstances, and was seeking her whereabouts. . "Come closer here, my dear lady! Don't be afraid of me."

"I'm not afraid of you," said the girl, coming closer, "but I want to know what they did to my mother." "My dear," said Richards, "you wore that beautiful black gown in honor of your mother." "No matter what long dress I wear," replied the girl with tears welling up in her eyes, "I can still remember my mother." "But people wear black to honor those who have left us." "Where did we go?" the girl asked. "Come sit here with me," Richards said, "and I'll tell you a story." Little Florence quickly understood that the story had something to do with her question, and laying aside the bonnet which she had hitherto held, she sat down on the stool at her feet, and looked up into her face.

"Once upon a time," said Richards, "there was a lady—a very good lady, whose little daughter loved her very much." "A very good lady, whom her little daughter loves very much," repeated the girl. "She got sick and died when God thought it was right and should be." The girl trembled. "She died, and the world saw her no more. She was buried in the ground, where trees grew." "The cold place?" asked the girl, shivering again. "No, the warm ground," replied Polly, seizing the favorable moment, "where the ugly little seeds turn into beautiful flowers, into poisonous weeds and corn, and all the rest I don't know Stuff. There good people transform into shining angels and fly to heaven!"

The girl whose head had been lowered all the time raised her head again, and sat there looking at her intently. "That's it, let me see," said Polly; facing the earnest looking gaze, with a desire to comfort the girl, who had suddenly succeeded, and who had little confidence in her own abilities, She was in a rather flustered mood amidst these intricacies. "So, when the lady died, wherever they took her, or wherever they put her, she went to God! She prayed to him, yes, the lady prayed to him ’” said Polly, who was so moved by her sincerity, “to teach her little girl to believe it with all her heart; to know that her mother was happy there, still loving her, and letting She hoped and tried—oh, she tried all her life—to meet her there one day, never to be parted again."

"This is my mother!" The girl jumped up, hugging her neck tightly, and shouted loudly. "This girl's heart," said Polly, drawing her into his arms, "this little girl's heart believed all this with all her heart, though she had heard it from a strange nurse who could not tell Well, but she herself was a poor mother, and that was all; the girl was soothed—and not feeling so alone—and she lay on her bosom and sobbed and wailed and fell in love with the baby lying on her lap naturally - well, well, well!" Polly stroked the girl's curly hair, and tears fell on it, and said, "Okay , my poor boy!"

"Ah, Miss Floy! Wouldn't your father be angry!" cried a quick voice at the door, from a short, brown girl of fourteen with the air of a grown woman. Yes, she had a small snub nose, and eyes as black as black marble beads. "He once specifically asked you not to come to the nanny and disturb her." "She didn't bother me," replied Polly, surprised. "I love children." "Oh, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Richards, it doesn't matter, you know," answered the dark-eyed girl, so sharp and aggressive that she seemed to bring tears to her eyes. "I may like snails very much, Mrs. Richards, but that doesn't mean I'll eat snails without tea." "Well, it's all right," Polly said. "Oh, thank you, Mrs. Richards, it's nothing!" replied the sharp-tongued girl, "if you'll take the trouble to remember, please remember that Miss Floy is in my charge. Master Paul is under your control." "But we still don't have to argue," Polly said. "Oh, yes, Mrs. Richards," replied the girl, who was as irascible as a flamethrower, "no need at all, I don't want a quarrel, we don't need a relationship like that, Miss Floy's care is a A long-term job, Master Paul's is a temporary job." The flamethrower uses only comma-like pauses; what she wants to say is shot in one sentence, if possible, Say it in one breath. "Miss Florence has just come home, hasn't she?" asked Polly. "Yes, Mrs. Richards, just came back, and you see, Miss Floy, you have only been home a quarter of an hour, and your wet face has stained the expensive mourning dress that Mrs. Richards wore for your mother." Got it!" After this rebuke, the flamethrower, whose real name was Susan Nipper, pulled the girl away from her new friend with a tooth-pulling twist.It seemed, however, that she did so not from willful ruthlessness, but from an unduly severe execution of her duties. "She'll be very happy now that she's home again," said Polly, nodding to her with an encouraging smile on her kind face. "She's going to see her dear papa this evening. How happy she must be!" "Why, Mrs. Richards!" said Miss Nipper, interrupting her at once, "come on! What to say to see her dear papa! I wish she could be like that!" "So she can't see?" Polly asked. "Why, Mrs. Richards, no, her father's mind is too much for another one, and she was never a favourite, and girls in this house Kicked it off, Mrs. Richards, I assure you." The girl's eyes moved quickly from one sitter to the other, as if she understood and felt what was being said. "You surprise me!" cried Polly. "Hasn't Mr. Dombey seen her since then?—" "No," interrupted Susan Nipper, "never since then, and he hadn't looked at her for months and months before that, and I He thought that if he had met her on the street before, he would not have recognized her as his own daughter, and if he had met her on the street tomorrow, he would not have recognized her as his His own daughter, Mrs. Richards, and as for me," the flamethrower said with a chuckle, "I wonder if he knows there is such a person as me in the world." "My dear darling!" said Richards, referring not to Miss Nipper but to Florence. "Ah, there's a Tatar within a hundred miles of our present conversation, and I can tell you, Mrs. Richards, that those who are present are always excluded," said Susan Nipper; Good morning, Mrs. Richards, and now Miss Floy, come with me, and don't dawdle like a naughty bad boy, don't be like that kid, don't be like that." In spite of this remonstrance, and in spite of a few rough tugs by Susan Nipper which nearly dislocated her right shoulder, little Florence broke free, and kissed her new friend affectionately. . "Good-bye!" said the girl. "God bless you! I shall come to see you soon, and will you come and see me? Susan will let us meet, won't you, Susan?" On the whole, the flamethrower seemed to be a good-natured little person, though she was a believer in the school of training children's intellect, which held that children, like coins, must be shaken, Clink them and bump them to make them shine.For, when Florence had thus entreated her, and made her affectionate gestures and caresses, she folded her arms, shook her head, and looked sympathetically in her wide-open black eyes. "It is not good for you to make such a request to me, Miss Floy, because you know I cannot refuse you, but Mrs. Richards and I will consider what to do, and if Mrs. Richards is willing, you know, I May wish to sail to China, Mrs. Richards, but I may not know how to get out of London Dock." Richards agrees. "This mansion isn't really joyful," said Miss Nipper. "A man needs to be very solitary, much more solitary than he should be. You Toxes, you Chicks can put My two front teeth have been taken out, Mrs. Richards, but I have no reason to dedicate my whole set to them." Richards also agrees with this opinion, because it is obvious and beyond doubt. "Therefore, there is no doubt," said Susan Nipper, "as long as Master Paul is in your charge, Mrs. Richards, and as long as we can find a way not to disobey orders from above, I am quite ready for our friendly relations, but My God, Miss Floy, why don't you go anywhere, you naughty boy, don't you go anywhere, come with me!" Immediately after these words, Susan Nipper resorted to coercion, attacked her young dependant, and dragged her quickly from the room. A girl in a sad and neglected situation is so gentle, so quiet and uncomplaining; her heart is so full of affection that no one seems to need it; her heart is so sentimental that no one seems to care about it Or afraid of hurting it; so her heart ached when Polly was left alone again.In the simple conversation she had with the motherless little girl, her mother's heart was not less touched than the girl's.Like the girl, she felt that trust and care had grown between them from that moment on. Although Mr. Tudor has great trust in Polly, she may not be better than her in terms of knowledge and skills.Women whose characters are, on the whole, kinder, truer, superior, nobler, more sensitive, and more constant in their tenderness, compassion, self-sacrifice, and fidelity, than men's, she It is an excellent and obvious sample of this kind of female character.Although she had little cultural knowledge, she was able to keep Mr. Dombey informed at the very beginning, so that he would not be taken by surprise like a lightning bolt at the end. But we digress.All that Polly could think of at that time was to take the goodwill she had succeeded in getting from Miss Nipper a step further, and to find a way to keep little Florence at her side legally, and not against her master's will. Just that night, a great opportunity presented itself. As usual, when she heard the bell, she went downstairs to the glass room, and walked up and down with the baby in her arms for a long time, when suddenly, to her great surprise and dismay, Mr Dombey came out of it. , stopped in front of her. "Good evening, Richards." It was still the stern, blunt gentleman she had seen on the first day.Involuntarily she lowered her eyes and curtseyed at his stern look. "How is Master Paul, Richards?" "Strong, sir, and healthy." "It seems so to him," said Mr. Dombey, looking with great interest at the small face she had turned away for him to observe, but pretending not to care much about it. , said, "I hope they've given you everything you need?" "Ah, yes, thank you, sir." But when she answered, she suddenly revealed obvious hesitation, so Mr. Dombey, who had already walked away, stopped again, showed a questioning look, and turned around again. "I think, sir, there's no better way to keep children alive than to let them see other children playing around them," Polly ventured, voicing her opinion. "I remember telling you when you came here," said Mr Dombey, frowning, "that I wished you to visit your family as little as possible. If you like, you go on walking. " With these words he went into the inner room; Polly saw that he had completely misunderstood her; When she came downstairs the next evening she found him pacing the conservatory.Seeing this unusual situation, she hesitated in her heart, and stopped at the door, not knowing whether to go forward or back, at this moment, he called her in. "If you really think that such a company is good for the child," he said suddenly, as if no time had elapsed since her suggestion, "where is Miss Florence?" "Nothing could be better than Miss Florence, sir," said Polly enthusiastically, "but I've learned from her little nurse that they don't—" Mr. Dombey rang the bell, and then paced, waiting for the servant to come. "Tell them to let Miss Florence be with Richards, and go out with her, and so on, if Richards likes it. Tell them, to let both children be together, if Richards likes it." The iron was now hot, and Richards tapped it boldly--a good thing, so that though she was instinctively afraid of Mr. Send it downstairs at once, send it to her, and befriend her little brother. As the servant left to perform the task, she made an appearance of caressing the child, but she thought she saw Mr. Dombey's face change; , as if wanting to take back what he said, or what she said, or what both of them said, but hesitated to say it out of embarrassment. She is right.The last time he saw his snubbed daughter, she was hugging her dying mother in grief; it was both revelation and reproach to him.Let him devote all his energies to the son on whom he had placed such great hopes, but he could not forget the scene of the dying scene.He can't forget that he didn't participate in it.He could not forget that at the bottom of the clear river of intimacy and sincerity, lay the two people embracing each other in their arms, but he was just a bystander completely excluded, standing on the bank above them and going down. Look, not one of them. He could not banish these things from his memory, nor from his mind the meaning contained in the fragmentary images; he could still make out them through the fog of pride, and so his former indifferent affection for little Florence was transformed into one. A strange uneasiness.He almost felt that she was watching him and distrusting him.As if she held the clue to something secret in his heart, the nature of which he did not know himself.It was as if she had an innate knowledge of that piercing, dissonant string in his heart, which she could make sound with a single breath. His affection for the girl had been negative from her birth.He never hated her, it wasn't worth it, and it wasn't his intention.He never thought of her as an absolute nuisance.But now he felt awkward with her.She disturbed his peace.He would have put aside all thoughts of her if he knew what to do.Perhaps—who can answer such mysterious questions! —he was afraid he would grow to hate her. Mr Dombey stopped pacing up and down, and looked at her when little Florence came in with apprehension.If he had looked with greater interest, and looked with his father's eyes, he might have read in her keen eyes the excitement and terror that roiled her, her ardent longing to run and hug her. He, hiding his face in his arms, cried, "O father, try to love me, I have no other kin!", seeing her wretched need for some reassurance and encouragement as she stood there; see It shows that her overburdened young heart is wandering, trying to find a natural resting place for its grief and affection. But he saw nothing of these.He saw only her standing hesitantly at the door, looking at him; he saw nothing else. "Come in," he said, "come in. What is the boy afraid of?" She went in; and after looking about her for a moment with a half-believing air, she clasped her little hands close to the door. "Come here, Florence," said her father icily, "do you know who I am?" "Yes, Dad." "Have you nothing to say to me?" When she raised her eyes quickly to his face, the expression on that face made the tears freeze in her eyes.She lowered her eyes again, and stretched out her trembling hand. Mr Dombey held it loosely in his hand, and stood looking down at her for a moment, as if he, like the girl, did not know what to say or do. "Well! Be a good boy!" he said, stroking her head, and looking at her as if furtively, with disturbed and uncertain eyes, "Go to Richards! Go!" His little girl hesitated for another moment, as if she still wanted to cuddle up to him or had a glimmer of hope that he would lift her into his arms and kiss her.She raised her eyes to his face again.He thought how similar her expression was to that night when she looked around and finally looked at the doctor, so he instinctively put down her hand and walked away. It is not difficult to see that Florence is in an extremely disadvantaged position before her father.It not only makes the child feel restricted psychologically, but also prevents her from natural behavior, grace and freedom of movement.Polly, seeing this scene, remained courageous and undeterred; and her silent appeal to poor little Florence's mourning dress, according to her own judgment of Mr. Dombey, had great hopes in it. "It would be cruel if he loved only one motherless child and another motherless child was right in front of his eyes," thought Polly. So Polly kept her as long as possible in his sight, and took care of little Paul, so that it was evident that he grew more lively in his sister's company.When it came time to go back upstairs, she would have taken Florence to the inner room to say good night to her father, but the girl was timid and withdrew; and when Polly urged her again, She stretched out her palms to cover her eyes, as if to cover up her humble image, "Oh, no, no! He doesn't need me! He doesn't need me!" The little quarrel which had taken place between them attracted the attention of Mr. Dombey; who was sitting at the table drinking, asked what happened. "Miss Florence is afraid she will disturb you by coming in to say good-night, sir." "That's all right," replied Mr Dombey. "You can let her come and go without me." The girl recoiled at this, and left before her lowly friend could turn her head. At any rate, Polly was so pleased with her success in conceiving this well-intentioned device, and carrying it out with such dexterity, that when she was safely up-stairs again, she put the These circumstances were disclosed to the flamethrower in detail.In doing so, Polly expressed confidence in Miss Nipper, but Miss Nipper reacted rather coldly to this, and to the prospect of their future free association.She was not at all enthusiastic about her pleasure. "I thought you'd be happy," Polly said. "Oh, yes, Mrs. Richards, I'm very glad, thank you," replied Susan; suddenly she straightened up, as if another bone had been thrust into her bodice. "You don't show your pleasure," Polly said. "Ah! I'm only a permanent worker here, and I can't be expected to be as happy as a temporary worker," said Susan Nipper. "I've found that the temps always have the upper hand here. But though there's a very pretty wall separating this house from the next one, I'd probably hate to go into that house, Richard. Mrs. Zi."