Chapter 19 Chapter Eighteen

(As time goes by, how does Oliver spend his days among the group of good teachers and helpful friends.) At noon next day, while the Dodger and Master Bates were away at their old business, Mr. Fagin took the opportunity of delivering a long speech to Oliver, denouncing the heinous crime of ingratitude.He made it clear that Oliver's crime was so great that he had the heart to leave behind a group of friends who were always thinking of him, and that they had caused so much trouble and cost so much to get him back, He still wanted to escape.Mr. Fagin emphatically emphasized the fact that he took in and treated Oliver well, and Oliver might have starved to death if he hadn't offered his help in time.He related the sad and touching story of a young man whom he, out of pity, had helped under similar circumstances, but who, as it turned out, had betrayed his trust by attempting to tip off the police, and one morning, In the "Old Town" ① unfortunately hanged.Mr. Fagin made no secret of his own involvement in the tragedy, but lamented tearfully that the young man in question had been compelled to be reported to the Assizes as a victim of his obsession and treachery— Even if it wasn't all factual - it was imperative for his (Mr. Fagin's) safety and a few close friends.Mr. Fagin concluded his speech by drawing a rather disgusting picture of the discomforts of hanging.He expressed so many earnest wishes with courteousness and friendliness, that he would not subject Oliver to such an unpleasant treatment unless absolutely necessary.

①London Central Criminal Court. Little Oliver's blood ran cold as he listened to the old Jew's words, and vaguely recognized the sinister and vicious threats expressed in them.He had already experienced that when innocence and guilt accidentally intertwined, even judicial authorities were likely to confound them.As for how to get rid of guys who know too much or can't hide their words too much, the old Jew has long planned and planned. He has indeed designed and implemented such plans more than once.Oliver recalled the cause of the quarrel between this gentleman and Mr. Sikes, which seemed to be connected with some similar conspiracy in the past.He looked up timidly, but met the sharp eyes of the old Jew, and realized that the cautious old gentleman was neither indifferent to nor uninterested in his pale face and trembling limbs.The old Jew gave Oliver a sickly smile, and patted Oliver on the head, saying that they could be very good friends as before, if he kept his mind to his business and kept quiet.After finishing speaking, he put on his hat, wrapped in a patched overcoat, locked the door casually, and went out.

In this way, the whole day, and several days afterwards, from early morning to midnight, Oliver saw no one.During this long time, he has only his own imagination for company.He could never forget those good friends, and it was a sad thought that they must have thought of themselves as something else. After about a week the old Jew no longer locked the door, and he was free to go about the house as he pleased. The place is very dirty and filthy.The upstairs rooms have tall wooden mantelpieces and doors, and the walls are paneled with wainscotting to the ceiling.These things were dusty and dull from neglect, but they were variously and variedly adorned.From all these indications, Oliver concluded that, long ago, before the Jew was born, the house had belonged to some better off people, and had perhaps once been splendid, though it was now desolate.

In the corners of the walls and ceilings, spiders have already set up their webs.Sometimes, as Oliver went stealthily into a room, he would see the rat scurrying about the floor, and running back into its hole in a panic.Apart from this, there was no living thing to be seen or heard in the house.Many times, when it was dark, he wandered from room to room, and when he was tired, he would curl up in the corner of the corridor near the door, hoping to be as close as possible to the flesh and blood, and he stayed there, listening to the voices outside , Counting the time until Fagin or those youngsters come back.

The shutters of all the rooms were rotting day by day, and all were closed airtightly, and the horizontal bars of the shutters were screwed firmly into the wooden grooves.The only light slipped down from the round holes on the roof, making the room even darker and full of strange shadows.The top floor had a rear window with no shutters and a rusted grating.Oliver used to look out for hours with a sad face, but could make out nothing but a great jagged mass of roofs, dark chimneys, and gable peaks.Occasionally, indeed, a shaggy head could be seen protruding from the parapet of a house in the distance, but then disappeared in a flash.Oliver's lookout window was nailed down, and with years of rain and smoke, he looked out hazy. At best, he could distinguish the shapes of various things outside, as for trying to make others see him or hear him. His voice—it was as if he were in the dome of St. Paul's Cathedral, it didn't matter at all.

One afternoon, when the Dodger and Master Bates were discussing an evening out, the young gentleman who mentioned his name first had a whim, expressing some apprehension about his personal appearance (which, in all fairness, was by no means a habitual one of his). shortcoming).For this purpose, he did the honor of ordering Oliver to help him with his toilet. Oliver was a little flattered to find himself of use, and was glad to have some faces about him, if not pleasant ones.Besides, he really wanted to influence some people around him by doing things honestly. He had no objection to this proposal, and immediately expressed his willingness to oblige. On one leg, he knelt down on the floor and began what Mr. Dakins called "polishing the foot".To put this sentence in common language is to shine shoes for him.

A person sits down at the table in a very comfortable posture, smokes a pipe, and swings one leg carelessly to and fro, letting others shine his shoes, which saves the trouble of taking them off in the past , and saves the estimated pain when putting it on again, so as not to interrupt one's leisurely thoughts. Rational animals may experience this kind of leisurely feeling at this time, or the mellow tobacco makes them feel better. The Dodger was in good spirits, or perhaps the warm beer had calmed his mind, but at the moment he was evidently glowing with a sort of romantic and ardent interest which did not befit his nature.He looked down at Oliver thoughtfully.Then he raised his head again, sighed softly, partly distracted and partly directed at Master Bates, and said:

"It's a pity, he's not in our business." "Ah," said Master Charlie Bates, "he doesn't know what's good." The Dodger sighed again, and took up his pipe, and Charlie did the same.The two swallowed their clouds and smoke, and remained silent for a while. "Perhaps you don't even know what's going on with bag picking?" The clever ghost asked sadly. "I know that," replied Oliver, looking up, "that's the little--you're one, aren't you?" said Oliver, breaking off. "Yes," replied the Dodger, "I don't think much of anything else," expressed Mr. Dakins, pushing up his hat, and staring at Master Bates, as if wishing to He is welcome to express views contrary to this.

"Yes," repeated the Dodger, "Charlie is, and Fagin is, and Sikes, and Nancy, and Bet, are all thieves, down to the dog, who was the best of the gang." The slippery one." "And one of the surest mouths," added Charlie Bates. "Even on the witness stand, he won't bark for fear that something will happen to him. Yes, if he is tied up and left there for a fortnight without food, he won't bark. Will make a sound," said the witty ghost. "That's right," Charlie agreed. "He's a strange dog. He never looks fierce when a stranger laughs or sings," went on the Dodger. "He never growls when he hears a fiddle. He's not the same family. Dog, he never hated. Oh, no."

"A real Christian," said Charlie. This sentence is just a compliment to the ability of this beast, but Master Bates does not know, this sentence is quite pertinent in another sense, because there are countless ladies and gentlemen in the world who claim to be authentic There is a very striking and curious resemblance between these people and Mr. Sykes' dog, Christians of the Way. "Come on, come on," said the Dodger, bringing back the subject which had been left aside, out of professional care which always dictated his words and actions. "Anyway, it has nothing to do with this little doll."

"Well," said Charles, "Oliver, why don't you take Fagin as your teacher?" "Don't want to get rich quickly?" the Dodger added with a grin. "When you have money you can retire and be a gentleman, I mean, count four leap years back and one leap year back, which is the forty-second Tuesday of Trinity." Charlie Baze babbled. ① Religious festival, Trinity Festival, also known as Trinity Festival, in the eighth week after Easter, the Trinity means God the Father, Jesus the Son and the Holy Spirit as one. "I don't like that sort of thing," replied Oliver timidly. "They'll just let me go. I—I—would like to go." "Fagin doesn't," replied Charles. Oliver was perfectly aware of this, and yet, realizing that he might be leading to disaster by expressing himself more plainly, he sighed, and went on polishing his shoes. "Come on," shouted the Dodger, "hey, where's your ambition? Don't you have any self-respect? Want to go to your friends?" "Oh, what a bore," said Master Bates, taking two or three silk handkerchiefs from his pocket, and throwing them into the closet. "That's too boring, really." "I can't do anything like that," said the Dodger, with haughty contempt. "You may leave your friends, too," said Oliver, with a wry smile, "and let them pay for what you have done." "Well," said the Dodger, shaking his pipe, "it's all about Fagin, the police know we're going to eat together, and if we're unlucky, he'll be in trouble too, that's all, isn't it, Charlie? ?” Master Bates nodded in agreement, and was about to speak when the scene of Oliver running all the way last time suddenly appeared in his mind, which immediately entangled the cigarette he had just inhaled with his laughter, and went up It went straight to the forehead, and rushed down into the throat, which made him cough and stomp his feet again, which lasted about five minutes. "Look," said the Dodger, pulling out a handful of money, all in shillings and halfpence. "That's what a happy life is. Who cares where it got out of? Well, then, there's plenty of money in those places. Don't you want it, don't you? Oh, you sweet little fool." "No rules, is there, Oliver?" asked Charlie Bates. "He'd have his neck twisted, don't you think?" "I don't know what that means," replied Oliver. "That's it, old chap," said Master Bates, grabbing the end of the scarf and throwing it up into the air, and pulling his head on his shoulders, he made a strange sound through his teeth, through such a vivid A pantomime figure, implying that strangulation is the same thing as hanging. "That's what it means," said Charlie. "Jack, look how big his eyes are. I've never met such a good friend. He'll make me laugh to death. I know he will." Master Bates said happily again. Laughing, with tears in his eyes, he picked up his pipe. "You've been badly taught," said the Dodger, contentedly examining the boots, which Oliver had polished by this time. "Fagin will train you, though, or you'll be his first waste. You'd better get to work at once, because you're already human before you've got your head around it. You're a waste, Oliver." time." Master Bates threw out all his moral convictions in full support of the proposal.Having learned the lesson, he and his friend Mr. Dakins talked again, introducing the infinite pleasures that came with their life, and instructing Oliver with all kinds of hints. Delay any longer, and do what they have done to win Fagin's favor. "Keep this in your pipe all the time, Nolly," said the Dodger, changing the subject when he heard the old Jew's door open above. "If you didn't get the mouth mop and the tick box—" "What good does it do you to say that?" interrupted Master Bates; "he doesn't understand you." "If you don't get your handkerchief and gold watch," said the Dodger, adjusting the conversation to a level that Oliver could understand, "someone else will. Then woe to all who throw things, and woe to you." Mold, apart from the kid who caught the things, no one can share the benefits—you are no different from them, and you have the right to get those things." "It's true, it's true," said Fagin, coming in out of Oliver's sight. "It's not complicated at all, my dear, it's as simple as it gets, if you just take the Dodger's word for it. Ha ha! He's pretty good at it." Old man Fagin rubbed his hands happily, approving the witty ghost's sound reasoning, and he laughed with delight at seeing his apprentice so promising. This time there was no further conversation, for returning with the old Jew was another gentleman whom Miss Bett and Oliver did not know, whom the Smarty called Tom Chitling.The gentleman paused on the stairs, and after a few words of humility with the lady, he walked in. Mr. Kittling was a little older than the Smarty, and had probably counted eighteen winters, yet the difference in his behavior from that of the little gentleman seemed to indicate a slight degree of talent and professional skill in him. Humbled.He had small twinkling eyes, a face full of pockmarks, a fur cap, a black corduroy jacket, greasy dungarees, and an apron.His suit really needs a good repair.He apologized to those present, stating that he had only "come out" an hour earlier and hadn't bothered to think about civilian clothes, having been in uniform for the past six weeks.Mr. Kittling looked uncomfortable, and added that the whole new way of fumigation of clothes over there was lawless, with holes in them, and there was nothing to reason with the County.He has the same critique of the haircut regulations, which are absolutely illegal.Mr. Kittling concluded his review by stating that he had not touched a drop during forty-two days of deadly long and deadly weariness, and that he would “fry himself if he hadn’t been thirsty like a lime basket.” into ashes". "Where do you suppose this gentleman comes from, Oliver?" asked the old Jew, smiling, taking advantage of the other children's efforts to put a bottle of wine on the table. "I—I—don't know, sir," replied Oliver. "Who is that?" asked Tom Chitling, looking at Oliver contemptuously. "A little friend of mine, my dear," answered Fagin. "Then he's lucky," said the young man, looking at Fagin meaningfully. "Never mind where I come from, little fellow. You'll be at my door soon too, I'll bet five shillings." This witty remark caused the two boys to laugh, and they joked a little on the same subject, whispered a few words to Fagin, and went out. The intruder chatted with Fagin aside, and the chairs were drawn up before the fire, and Fagin beckoned Oliver to sit by his side, and directed the conversation into such subjects as would most excite the interest of the audience, such as, the profession of business. The great advantage of the Dodger, the shrewdness of the Dodger, the kindness of Charlie Bates, the generosity of the Old Jew himself.Finally, the subjects showed signs of being completely exhausted, as was the case with Mr. Chitling, for after a week or two in the reformatory school his energy was lost.Miss Bette backed out knowingly and let everyone rest. From this day Oliver was seldom left alone, but nearly all the time with the two boys, who had to play the old game with Fagin every day, whether for themselves or not. It is better for Oliver to make progress, only Mr. Fagin knows best.For the rest of the time the old man told them stories of robberies in his youth, with so many funny and wonderful episodes in them that even Oliver could not help laughing, which showed that he was amused, though his conscience was not lost. . In short, the scheming old Jew had led the boy into a trap, and he had fed Oliver's mind with solitude and melancholy, and made him feel that in such a dismal place, the company of anyone was better than being alone. It was better to wallow in sorrow and distress, and he was now slowly pouring poison into Oliver's soul, in an attempt to blacken that heart, and change its color forever.