What the Waves were always saying
Paul had never risen from his little bed. He lay there, listening to the noises in the street, quite tranquilly; not caring much how the time went, but watching it and watching everything about him with observing eyes.
When the sunbeams struck into his room through the rustling blinds, and quivered on the opposite wall like golden water, he knew that evening was coming on, and that the sky was red and beautiful. As the reflection died away, and a gloom went creeping up the wall, he watched it deepen, deepen, deepen, into night. Then he thought how the long streets were dotted with lamps, and how the peaceful stars were shining overhead. His fancy had a strange tendency to wander to the river, which he knew was flowing through the great city; and now he thought how black it was, and how deep it would look, reflecting the hosts of stars - and more than all, how steadily it rolled away to meet the sea.
As it grew later in the night, and footsteps in the street became so rare that he could hear them coming, count them as they passed, and lose them in the hollow distance, he would lie and watch the many-coloured ring about the candle, and wait patiently for day. His only trouble was, the swift and rapid river. He felt forced, sometimes, to try to stop it - to stem it with his childish hands - or choke its way with sand - and when he saw it coming on, resistless, he cried out! But a word from Florence, who was always at his side, restored him to himself; and leaning his poor head upon her breast, he told Floy of his dream, and smiled.
When day began to dawn again, he watched for the sun; and when its cheerful light began to sparkle in the room, he pictured to himself - pictured! he saw - the high church towers rising up into the morning sky, the town reviving, waking, starting into life once more, the river glistening as it rolled (but rolling fast as ever), and the country bright with dew. Familiar sounds and cries came by degrees into the street below; the servants in the house were roused and busy; faces looked in at the door, and voices asked his attendants softly how he was. Paul always answered for himself, 'I am better. I am a great deal better, thank you! Tell Papa so!'
By little and little, he got tired of the bustle of the day, the noise of carriages and carts, and people passing and repassing; and would fall asleep, or be troubled with a restless and uneasy sense again - the child could hardly tell whether this were in his sleeping or his waking moments - of that rushing river. 'Why, will it never stop, Floy?' he would sometimes ask her. 'It is bearing me away, I think!'
But Floy could always soothe and reassure him; and it was his daily delight to make her lay her head down on his pillow, and take some rest.
'You are always watching me, Floy, let me watch you, now!' They would prop him up with cushions in a corner of his bed, and there he would recline the while she lay beside him: bending forward oftentimes to kiss her, and whispering to those who were near that she was tired, and how she had sat up so many nights beside him.
Thus, the flush of the day, in its heat and light, would gradually decline; and again the golden water would be dancing on the wall.
He was visited by as many as three grave doctors - they used to assemble downstairs, and come up together - and the room was so quiet, and Paul was so observant of them (though he never asked of anybody what they said), that he even knew the difference in the sound of their watches. But his interest centred in Sir Parker Peps, who always took his seat on the side of the bed. For Paul had heard them say long ago, that that gentleman had been with his Mama when she clasped Florence in her arms, and died. And he could not forget it, now. He liked him for it. He was not afraid.
The people round him changed as unaccountably as on that first night at Doctor Blimber's - except Florence; Florence never changed - and what had been Sir Parker Peps, was now his father, sitting with his head upon his hand. Old Mrs Pipchin dozing in an easy chair, often changed to Miss Tox, or his aunt; and Paul was quite content to shut his eyes again, and see what happened next, without emotion. But this figure with its head upon its hand returned so often, and remained so long, and sat so still and solemn, never speaking, never being spoken to, and rarely lifting up its face, that Paul began to wonder languidly, if it were real; and in the night-time saw it sitting there, with fear.
'Floy!' he said. 'What is that?'
'Where, dearest?'
'There! at the bottom of the bed.'
'There's nothing there, except Papa!'
The figure lifted up its head, and rose, and coming to the bedside, said:
'My own boy! Don't you know me?'
Paul looked it in the face, and thought, was this his father? But the face so altered to his thinking, thrilled while he gazed, as if it were in pain; and before he could reach out both his hands to take it between them, and draw it towards him, the figure turned away quickly from the little bed, and went out at the door.
Paul looked at Florence with a fluttering heart, but he knew what she was going to say, and stopped her with his face against her lips. The next time he observed the figure sitting at the bottom of the bed, he called to it.
'Don't be sorry for me, dear Papa! Indeed I am quite happy!'
His father coming and bending down to him - which he did quickly, and without first pausing by the bedside - Paul held him round the neck, and repeated those words to him several times, and very earnestly; and Paul never saw him in his room again at any time, whether it were day or night, but he called out, 'Don't be sorry for me! Indeed I am quite happy!' This was the beginning of his always saying in the morning that he was a great deal better, and that they were to tell his father so.
How many times the golden water danced upon the wall; how many nights the dark, dark river rolled towards the sea in spite of him; Paul never counted, never sought to know. If their kindness, or his sense of it, could have increased, they were more kind, and he more grateful every day; but whether they were many days or few, appeared of little moment now, to the gentle boy.
One night he had been thinking of his mother, and her picture in the drawing-room downstairs, and thought she must have loved sweet Florence better than his father did, to have held her in her arms when she felt that she was dying - for even he, her brother, who had such dear love for her, could have no greater wish than that. The train of thought suggested to him to inquire if he had ever seen his mother? for he could not remember whether they had told him, yes or no, the river running very fast, and confusing his mind.
'Floy, did I ever see Mama?'
'No, darling, why?'
'Did I ever see any kind face, like Mama's, looking at me when I was a baby, Floy?'
He asked, incredulously, as if he had some vision of a face before him.
'Oh yes, dear!'
'Whose, Floy?'
'Your old nurse's. Often.'
'And where is my old nurse?' said Paul. 'Is she dead too? Floy, are we all dead, except you?'
There was a hurry in the room, for an instant - longer, perhaps; but it seemed no more - then all was still again; and Florence, with her face quite colourless, but smiling, held his head upon her arm. Her arm trembled very much.
'Show me that old nurse, Floy, if you please!'
'She is not here, darling. She shall come to-morrow.'
'Thank you, Floy!'
Paul closed his eyes with those words, and fell asleep. When he awoke, the sun was high, and the broad day was clear and He lay a little, looking at the windows, which were open, and the curtains rustling in the air, and waving to and fro: then he said, 'Floy, is it tomorrow? Is she come?'
Someone seemed to go in quest of her. Perhaps it was Susan. Paul thought he heard her telling him when he had closed his eyes again, that she would soon be back; but he did not open them to see. She kept her word - perhaps she had never been away - but the next thing that happened was a noise of footsteps on the stairs, and then Paul woke - woke mind and body - and sat upright in his bed. He saw them now about him. There was no grey mist before them, as there had been sometimes in the night. He knew them every one, and called them by their names.
'And who is this? Is this my old nurse?' said the child, regarding with a radiant smile, a figure coming in.
Yes, yes. No other stranger would have shed those tears at sight of him, and called him her dear boy, her pretty boy, her own poor blighted child. No other woman would have stooped down by his bed, and taken up his wasted hand, and put it to her lips and breast, as one who had some right to fondle it. No other woman would have so forgotten everybody there but him and Floy, and been so full of tenderness and pity.
'Floy! this is a kind good face!' said Paul. 'I am glad to see it again. Don't go away, old nurse! Stay here.'
His senses were all quickened, and he heard a name he knew.
'Who was that, who said "Walter"?' he asked, looking round. 'Someone said Walter. Is he here? I should like to see him very much.'
Nobody replied directly; but his father soon said to Susan, 'Call him back, then: let him come up!' Alter a short pause of expectation, during which he looked with smiling interest and wonder, on his nurse, and saw that she had not forgotten Floy, Walter was brought into the room. His open face and manner, and his cheerful eyes, had always made him a favourite with Paul; and when Paul saw him' he stretched Out his hand, and said 'Good-bye!'
'Good-bye, my child!' said Mrs Pipchin, hurrying to his bed's head. 'Not good-bye?'
For an instant, Paul looked at her with the wistful face with which he had so often gazed upon her in his corner by the fire. 'Yes,' he said placidly, 'good-bye! Walter dear, good-bye!' - turning his head to where he stood, and putting out his hand again. 'Where is Papa?'
He felt his father's breath upon his cheek, before the words had parted from his lips.
'Remember Walter, dear Papa,' he whispered, looking in his face. 'Remember Walter. I was fond of Walter!' The feeble hand waved in the air, as if it cried 'good-bye!' to Walter once again.
'Now lay me down,' he said, 'and, Floy, come close to me, and let me see you!'
Sister and brother wound their arms around each other, and the golden light came streaming in, and fell upon them, locked together.
'How fast the river runs, between its green banks and the rushes, 'Floy! But it's very near the sea. I hear the waves! They always said so!'
Presently he told her the motion of the boat upon the stream was lulling him to rest. How green the banks were now, how bright the flowers growing on them, and how tall the rushes! Now the boat was out at sea, but gliding smoothly on. And now there was a shore before him. Who stood on the bank! -
He put his hands together, as he had been used to do at his prayers. He did not remove his arms to do it; but they saw him fold them so, behind her neck.
'Mama is like you, Floy. I know her by the face! But tell them that the print upon the stairs at school is not divine enough. The light about the head is shining on me as I go!'
The golden ripple on the wall came back again, and nothing else stirred in the room. The old, old fashion! The fashion that came in with our first garments, and will last unchanged until our race has run its course, and the wide firmament is rolled up like a scroll. The old, old fashion - Death!
Oh thank GOD, all who see it, for that older fashion yet, of Immortality! And look upon us, angels of young children, with regards not quite estranged, when the swift river bears us to the ocean!
'Dear me, dear me! To think,' said Miss Tox, bursting out afresh that night, as if her heart were broken, 'that Dombey and Son should be a Daughter after all!'
保羅一直沒有從他的小床上起來過。他躺在那里，十分平靜地聽著街道上的喧囂聲；他不很關心時間怎么流逝，但卻用他留神的眼睛注視著它，并注視著周圍的一切。
當陽光透過颯颯拂動的窗簾射入他的房間，像金黃色的水一樣，在對面的墻上蕩漾時，他知道晚間即將來臨，天空紅而美麗。當返照的回光漸漸消失，幽暗的暮色漸漸爬上墻壁的時候，他注視著它加深，加深，最后變成了夜間。于是他想到了長長的街道上怎樣到處點綴著路燈，寧靜的星群怎樣在上空閃耀。奇怪的是，他的想像總愛飄浮到河邊，他知道河水正穿流過這座巨大的城市；現在他想到它是多么烏黑，當它映照著星群時看去是多么深邃，尤其是，它是多么一往直前、滔滔不絕地滾流進海洋里去。
夜?jié)u漸深了，街上的腳步聲漸漸稀少了，他可以聽見它們走近，當它們走過時可以數清它們的數目，然后聽憑它們在空曠寂靜的遠方消失；這時候，他就躺在那里，注視著蠟燭周圍五顏六色的光圈，耐心地等待著白天來臨。引起他不安的是那奔騰迅速、湍急的河流，有時他必須設法阻止它——用他孩子的手擋住它——或者用沙子堵住它的道路——，而當他看到它不可抗拒地繼續(xù)向前奔流的時候，他就哭出來！可是經常待在他身旁的弗洛倫斯只要講一句話就能使他恢復平靜；這時他就把他可憐的腦袋倚靠在她的胸前，把他的夢境講給她聽，并且微笑著。
當黎明重新來臨時，他盼望著太陽；當它那明亮喜人的光輝開始在房間里閃耀時，他為自己描繪了——，不，不是描繪了，而是看見了一幅圖景：高高的教堂鐘樓聳立在早晨的天空中；城市復活了，蘇醒了，重新開始了生活，河流滾滾奔流（但仍和往常一樣快），發(fā)出了閃閃的亮光；鄉(xiāng)間的田野覆蓋著亮晶晶的露珠，一片光輝。熟悉的聲音和喊叫聲逐漸從下面的街道中傳來；公館中的仆人們醒來了，忙忙碌碌，好些臉孔從門口往里探望，好些聲音在悄悄地問那些看護他的人，他怎么樣了。保羅總是自己回答道，“我好些了。我好多了，謝謝您！請這樣告訴我爸爸吧！”
白天的忙亂，馬車、大車的喧鬧聲和人們的來來往往漸漸使他感到厭倦，他會睡去，或者又會因為那迅猛奔騰的河流感到急躁不安，無法平靜——孩子不知道這是在他睡著的時候還是醒著的時候發(fā)生的事情。“唉，它就永遠也不停嗎，弗洛伊？”有時他會問她，“我覺得，它是要把我?guī)ё吣?！?BR> 但是弗洛伊總是安慰他，叫他安心；他總是讓她把頭躺在他的枕頭上，休息一會兒，這已成為他每天的快樂。
“你總一直在看護著我，弗洛伊，現在讓我來看護你吧！”他們會在他的床角放一個軟墊來支撐他；當她躺在他身旁時，他就斜靠在那里，不時彎下身去吻她，并跟床邊的人低聲說，她累了，她曾經怎樣許多夜坐在他的身旁。
就這樣，炎熱、光明的白天的亮光逐漸消逝了，金黃色的水波又重新在墻上蕩漾。
有三位重要的醫(yī)生來看他——他們通常在樓下開會，然后一起上來——；房間里非常安靜，保羅又非常注意地觀察他們（雖然他從來沒有向任何人問過他們說了些什么），所以他甚至可以分辨得出他們表聲的差別。但是他的興趣集中在經常坐在他床邊的帕克·佩普斯爵士身上。因為保羅好久以前曾聽他們說，當他媽媽把弗洛倫斯摟在懷里死去的時候，這位先生也在場?，F在他忘不了這件事。他由于這一點而喜歡他。他不害怕。
他周圍的人們在莫名其妙地變換著，就像在布林伯博士家里頭一個晚上一樣。只有弗洛倫斯一個人例外，她從來沒有被換走過。先前是帕克·佩普斯，現在卻換成了他的父親，坐在那里，用一只手支托著頭。在安樂椅里打瞌睡的老皮普欽太太時常變換成托克斯小姐或他的姑媽；這時保羅很樂意重新閉上眼睛，平平靜靜地等待著隨后發(fā)生的情況。但是這個用一只手支托著頭的人影兒這么頻繁地回來，待的時間這么長久，坐在那里那么呆板、嚴肅，從來不跟人說話，也從來沒有人跟他說話，又很少抬起臉來，因此保羅開始倦乏地納悶，他究竟是不是真的人，夜間看到他坐在那里的時候他感到害怕。
“弗洛伊！”他問道，“那是什么？”
“哪兒，親愛的？”
“那里！在床的那一頭！”
“那是爸爸，沒有別的?！?BR> 那人影兒抬起頭，站起來，走到床邊，說道，“我親愛的孩子，你不認識我了嗎？”
保羅看著那人影兒的臉，心里想，這是他的父親嗎？他覺得那張臉已經改變了許多；當他注視它的時候，它似乎由于痛苦而顫動著；他還來不及伸出兩只手捧住它，把它拉向身邊時，那人影兒就迅速從小床邊轉開，走向門口。
保羅懷著一顆忐忑不安的心望著弗洛倫斯，但是他知道她將要說什么，就用臉堵住她的嘴唇。他下一次看到那人影兒坐在床的那一頭時，他向它喊道：
“不要為我這么難過，親愛的爸爸！我確實是很快樂的！”
他父親很快走過來，沒有在床邊先停留一會兒，就立刻向他彎下身子；這時候保羅摟著他的脖子，把這些話很懇切地向他重復說了幾次；在這之后，不論是白天還是黑夜，保羅就沒有再看見他來到房間里來了；他經常喊道，“不要為我這樣難過，我確實是很快樂的！”也就是從這時候起，他開始每天早上總要說，他好多了，請他們這樣去告訴他的父親。
那金黃色的水波在墻上蕩漾了多少次，那烏黑烏黑的河流不顧他的不愿意，多少夜?jié)L滾流向海洋，保羅從來沒有計算過，也從來不想要知道。如果它們能夠更親切一些，或者他能感到它們對他更親切一些的話，那么，它們對他就會一天天更加親切了，而他對它們也就會一天天更為感激了。可是日子過去了多少，現在對這個溫順的孩子來說似乎并不重要。
有一天夜里，他一直在想他的母親和掛在樓下客廳中的她的畫像；他想到，她一定比他爸爸更愛弗洛倫斯；正因為這樣，所以當她覺得自己快要死的時候，她曾經把弗洛倫斯擁抱在懷中，因為甚至是他，她的弟弟，一個這樣深深地愛著她的人，也沒有比這更為強烈的愿望了。沿著這條思路想下去，他覺得需要問一個問題：他是不是見過他的媽媽，因為他已記不起他們是不是曾經告訴過他“見過”還是“沒有見過”；河水流得十分迅速，使他的頭腦混亂不清。
“弗洛伊，我看見過媽媽沒有？”
“沒有，親愛的，為什么你要問這個問題？”
“當我還是個嬰兒的時候，我有沒有看見過像媽媽那樣仁慈的臉看著我，弗洛伊？”
他表示懷疑地問道，仿佛在他面前出現了一張臉孔的幻影。
“是的，你看見過，親愛的！”
“誰的臉，弗洛伊？”
“你從前的奶媽的，你常常見到它。”
“我從前的奶媽現在在哪里？”保羅問道，“她是不是也死了？弗洛伊，是不是除了你，我們大家全都死了？”
房間里一陣慌亂，持續(xù)了片刻——也許還長久些，但似乎也不會長久多少——，然后一切又平靜下來。弗洛倫斯臉上毫無血色，但卻微笑著，用胳膊枕著他的頭。她的胳膊顫抖得很厲害。
“請讓我看看我從前的那位奶媽吧，弗洛伊！”
“她不在這里，親愛的。她明天一定會來的。”
“謝謝你，弗洛伊！”
保羅講完這些話，合上眼睛，睡著了。當他醒來的時候，太陽已經升高，白天明亮、溫暖。他躺了一會兒，望著打開的窗子和在微風中颯颯作響、來回飄動的窗簾；然后他問道：
“弗洛伊，明天到了嗎？她來了嗎？”
似乎已經有人去找她了。也許是蘇珊。保羅覺得，當他重新合上眼睛的時候，他聽到她告訴他，她很快就會回來；但是他沒有張開眼睛看。她信守她的諾言——也許她先前從沒有離開過呢——可是接著，樓梯上傳來了一陣腳步聲，于是保羅醒來了——腦子和身體全都清醒了——，筆直地坐在床上。他現在看見他們都聚集在他的身旁。夜間有時出現的那一層灰蒙蒙的霧，已經在他們面前消失。他認識他們每一個人，并喊出他們每一個人的名字。
“這是誰呀？是我從前的奶媽嗎？”孩子容光煥發(fā)，滿臉笑容地望著走進來的一個人影兒問道。
是的，是的。不會有另一位陌生人見到他的時候會流出那些眼淚，會把他叫做她親愛的孩子，她寶貝的孩子，她可憐的多病多難的孩子。不會有另外一位婦女會在他的床旁彎下身來，舉起他消瘦的手，貼在她的嘴唇和胸脯上，像一個有權利愛撫他的人那樣。不會有另外一位婦女會這樣把所有在場的人全都忘記，而只記得他和弗洛伊兩人，會對他們兩人這樣充滿了親切與憐憫的感情。
“弗洛伊，她的臉多么慈祥、多么善良呀！”保羅說道，“我真高興，我又看到它了。別離開，老奶媽！待在這里吧?！?BR> 他所有的感官都敏銳起來了，他聽到一個他熟悉的名字。
“是誰說‘沃爾特’的？”他環(huán)顧四周，問道，“有人說到沃爾特，他在這里嗎？我非常想看到他。”
誰也沒有直接回答他，但是他的父親立刻對蘇珊說，“那就喊他回來吧，讓他上樓來！”在短暫的等待時間中，保羅懷著興趣與驚異，微笑地看著他的奶媽，看到她沒有忘記弗洛伊。不久，沃爾特被領進房間。他那坦誠的臉孔和態(tài)度，他那快活的眼睛，使他一直成為保羅所喜愛的人；保羅看到他時，伸出手說，“別了?！?BR> “別了，我的孩子！”皮普欽太太急忙跑到他的床頭，說道，“不是別了吧？”
保羅用沉思的臉色朝她望了一會兒，過去他在爐邊的角落里就經常用這種臉色凝視著她的?！鞍?，是的，”他平靜地說，“別了！親愛的沃爾特，別了！”他把頭轉向沃爾特站著的地方，再次伸出手?！鞍职衷谀睦?？”
這些話還沒有說出口來，他就感覺到了他父親貼住他臉頰時的呼吸。
“別忘記沃爾特，親愛的爸爸，”他望著他的臉，低聲說道，“別忘記沃爾特。我喜歡沃爾特！”那只虛弱的手在空中揮動著，仿佛它再一次向沃爾特喊道，“別了！”
“現在把我放下來躺著，”他說，“弗洛伊，走來挨近我，讓我看著你！”
姐姐和弟弟伸出胳膊互相擁抱著。金黃色的陽光射進房間，射到他們緊緊抱在一起的身上。
“河水在綠色的河岸與蘆葦中間流得多么快呀！弗洛伊！但是它離海很近了。我聽到了海浪的聲音！它們老是說著這樣的話！”
接著，他告訴她，小船在河流上漂動，正在向他催眠?，F在河岸多么蔥翠，上面長著的花朵是多么鮮艷，蘆葦是多么高！現在小船已經駛進海里了，但它仍舊繼續(xù)平穩(wěn)地向前滑行著。現在海岸出現在他前面。誰站在岸上？——他像平時祈禱時那樣合著雙手。他并沒有把雙手合攏。
“媽媽像你，弗洛伊。我從你的臉孔中認出了她！但請告訴他們，學校里樓梯上的那幅圣像沒有充分表現出神圣的氣概。我走的時候，他頭上的靈光正為我照耀著道路！”
墻上金黃色的漣漪又重新在蕩漾，房間里沒有別的在動。那古老而又古老的先例??！隨著我們有了最初的衣服，這先例就已創(chuàng)立了，它將永不改變地延續(xù)下去，直到我們的族類走完了他們的旅程為止，到那時遼闊的蒼穹就像一幅卷軸似地收卷了起來，那古老而又古老的先例——死亡??！
啊，凡是看見的人都要感謝上帝，為了那更為古老的先例——永生！天使般的孩子們啊，當湍急的河流運載著我們漂向海洋去的時候，請別那樣疏遠冷漠地看著我們吧！
Paul had never risen from his little bed. He lay there, listening to the noises in the street, quite tranquilly; not caring much how the time went, but watching it and watching everything about him with observing eyes.
When the sunbeams struck into his room through the rustling blinds, and quivered on the opposite wall like golden water, he knew that evening was coming on, and that the sky was red and beautiful. As the reflection died away, and a gloom went creeping up the wall, he watched it deepen, deepen, deepen, into night. Then he thought how the long streets were dotted with lamps, and how the peaceful stars were shining overhead. His fancy had a strange tendency to wander to the river, which he knew was flowing through the great city; and now he thought how black it was, and how deep it would look, reflecting the hosts of stars - and more than all, how steadily it rolled away to meet the sea.
As it grew later in the night, and footsteps in the street became so rare that he could hear them coming, count them as they passed, and lose them in the hollow distance, he would lie and watch the many-coloured ring about the candle, and wait patiently for day. His only trouble was, the swift and rapid river. He felt forced, sometimes, to try to stop it - to stem it with his childish hands - or choke its way with sand - and when he saw it coming on, resistless, he cried out! But a word from Florence, who was always at his side, restored him to himself; and leaning his poor head upon her breast, he told Floy of his dream, and smiled.
When day began to dawn again, he watched for the sun; and when its cheerful light began to sparkle in the room, he pictured to himself - pictured! he saw - the high church towers rising up into the morning sky, the town reviving, waking, starting into life once more, the river glistening as it rolled (but rolling fast as ever), and the country bright with dew. Familiar sounds and cries came by degrees into the street below; the servants in the house were roused and busy; faces looked in at the door, and voices asked his attendants softly how he was. Paul always answered for himself, 'I am better. I am a great deal better, thank you! Tell Papa so!'
By little and little, he got tired of the bustle of the day, the noise of carriages and carts, and people passing and repassing; and would fall asleep, or be troubled with a restless and uneasy sense again - the child could hardly tell whether this were in his sleeping or his waking moments - of that rushing river. 'Why, will it never stop, Floy?' he would sometimes ask her. 'It is bearing me away, I think!'
But Floy could always soothe and reassure him; and it was his daily delight to make her lay her head down on his pillow, and take some rest.
'You are always watching me, Floy, let me watch you, now!' They would prop him up with cushions in a corner of his bed, and there he would recline the while she lay beside him: bending forward oftentimes to kiss her, and whispering to those who were near that she was tired, and how she had sat up so many nights beside him.
Thus, the flush of the day, in its heat and light, would gradually decline; and again the golden water would be dancing on the wall.
He was visited by as many as three grave doctors - they used to assemble downstairs, and come up together - and the room was so quiet, and Paul was so observant of them (though he never asked of anybody what they said), that he even knew the difference in the sound of their watches. But his interest centred in Sir Parker Peps, who always took his seat on the side of the bed. For Paul had heard them say long ago, that that gentleman had been with his Mama when she clasped Florence in her arms, and died. And he could not forget it, now. He liked him for it. He was not afraid.
The people round him changed as unaccountably as on that first night at Doctor Blimber's - except Florence; Florence never changed - and what had been Sir Parker Peps, was now his father, sitting with his head upon his hand. Old Mrs Pipchin dozing in an easy chair, often changed to Miss Tox, or his aunt; and Paul was quite content to shut his eyes again, and see what happened next, without emotion. But this figure with its head upon its hand returned so often, and remained so long, and sat so still and solemn, never speaking, never being spoken to, and rarely lifting up its face, that Paul began to wonder languidly, if it were real; and in the night-time saw it sitting there, with fear.
'Floy!' he said. 'What is that?'
'Where, dearest?'
'There! at the bottom of the bed.'
'There's nothing there, except Papa!'
The figure lifted up its head, and rose, and coming to the bedside, said:
'My own boy! Don't you know me?'
Paul looked it in the face, and thought, was this his father? But the face so altered to his thinking, thrilled while he gazed, as if it were in pain; and before he could reach out both his hands to take it between them, and draw it towards him, the figure turned away quickly from the little bed, and went out at the door.
Paul looked at Florence with a fluttering heart, but he knew what she was going to say, and stopped her with his face against her lips. The next time he observed the figure sitting at the bottom of the bed, he called to it.
'Don't be sorry for me, dear Papa! Indeed I am quite happy!'
His father coming and bending down to him - which he did quickly, and without first pausing by the bedside - Paul held him round the neck, and repeated those words to him several times, and very earnestly; and Paul never saw him in his room again at any time, whether it were day or night, but he called out, 'Don't be sorry for me! Indeed I am quite happy!' This was the beginning of his always saying in the morning that he was a great deal better, and that they were to tell his father so.
How many times the golden water danced upon the wall; how many nights the dark, dark river rolled towards the sea in spite of him; Paul never counted, never sought to know. If their kindness, or his sense of it, could have increased, they were more kind, and he more grateful every day; but whether they were many days or few, appeared of little moment now, to the gentle boy.
One night he had been thinking of his mother, and her picture in the drawing-room downstairs, and thought she must have loved sweet Florence better than his father did, to have held her in her arms when she felt that she was dying - for even he, her brother, who had such dear love for her, could have no greater wish than that. The train of thought suggested to him to inquire if he had ever seen his mother? for he could not remember whether they had told him, yes or no, the river running very fast, and confusing his mind.
'Floy, did I ever see Mama?'
'No, darling, why?'
'Did I ever see any kind face, like Mama's, looking at me when I was a baby, Floy?'
He asked, incredulously, as if he had some vision of a face before him.
'Oh yes, dear!'
'Whose, Floy?'
'Your old nurse's. Often.'
'And where is my old nurse?' said Paul. 'Is she dead too? Floy, are we all dead, except you?'
There was a hurry in the room, for an instant - longer, perhaps; but it seemed no more - then all was still again; and Florence, with her face quite colourless, but smiling, held his head upon her arm. Her arm trembled very much.
'Show me that old nurse, Floy, if you please!'
'She is not here, darling. She shall come to-morrow.'
'Thank you, Floy!'
Paul closed his eyes with those words, and fell asleep. When he awoke, the sun was high, and the broad day was clear and He lay a little, looking at the windows, which were open, and the curtains rustling in the air, and waving to and fro: then he said, 'Floy, is it tomorrow? Is she come?'
Someone seemed to go in quest of her. Perhaps it was Susan. Paul thought he heard her telling him when he had closed his eyes again, that she would soon be back; but he did not open them to see. She kept her word - perhaps she had never been away - but the next thing that happened was a noise of footsteps on the stairs, and then Paul woke - woke mind and body - and sat upright in his bed. He saw them now about him. There was no grey mist before them, as there had been sometimes in the night. He knew them every one, and called them by their names.
'And who is this? Is this my old nurse?' said the child, regarding with a radiant smile, a figure coming in.
Yes, yes. No other stranger would have shed those tears at sight of him, and called him her dear boy, her pretty boy, her own poor blighted child. No other woman would have stooped down by his bed, and taken up his wasted hand, and put it to her lips and breast, as one who had some right to fondle it. No other woman would have so forgotten everybody there but him and Floy, and been so full of tenderness and pity.
'Floy! this is a kind good face!' said Paul. 'I am glad to see it again. Don't go away, old nurse! Stay here.'
His senses were all quickened, and he heard a name he knew.
'Who was that, who said "Walter"?' he asked, looking round. 'Someone said Walter. Is he here? I should like to see him very much.'
Nobody replied directly; but his father soon said to Susan, 'Call him back, then: let him come up!' Alter a short pause of expectation, during which he looked with smiling interest and wonder, on his nurse, and saw that she had not forgotten Floy, Walter was brought into the room. His open face and manner, and his cheerful eyes, had always made him a favourite with Paul; and when Paul saw him' he stretched Out his hand, and said 'Good-bye!'
'Good-bye, my child!' said Mrs Pipchin, hurrying to his bed's head. 'Not good-bye?'
For an instant, Paul looked at her with the wistful face with which he had so often gazed upon her in his corner by the fire. 'Yes,' he said placidly, 'good-bye! Walter dear, good-bye!' - turning his head to where he stood, and putting out his hand again. 'Where is Papa?'
He felt his father's breath upon his cheek, before the words had parted from his lips.
'Remember Walter, dear Papa,' he whispered, looking in his face. 'Remember Walter. I was fond of Walter!' The feeble hand waved in the air, as if it cried 'good-bye!' to Walter once again.
'Now lay me down,' he said, 'and, Floy, come close to me, and let me see you!'
Sister and brother wound their arms around each other, and the golden light came streaming in, and fell upon them, locked together.
'How fast the river runs, between its green banks and the rushes, 'Floy! But it's very near the sea. I hear the waves! They always said so!'
Presently he told her the motion of the boat upon the stream was lulling him to rest. How green the banks were now, how bright the flowers growing on them, and how tall the rushes! Now the boat was out at sea, but gliding smoothly on. And now there was a shore before him. Who stood on the bank! -
He put his hands together, as he had been used to do at his prayers. He did not remove his arms to do it; but they saw him fold them so, behind her neck.
'Mama is like you, Floy. I know her by the face! But tell them that the print upon the stairs at school is not divine enough. The light about the head is shining on me as I go!'
The golden ripple on the wall came back again, and nothing else stirred in the room. The old, old fashion! The fashion that came in with our first garments, and will last unchanged until our race has run its course, and the wide firmament is rolled up like a scroll. The old, old fashion - Death!
Oh thank GOD, all who see it, for that older fashion yet, of Immortality! And look upon us, angels of young children, with regards not quite estranged, when the swift river bears us to the ocean!
'Dear me, dear me! To think,' said Miss Tox, bursting out afresh that night, as if her heart were broken, 'that Dombey and Son should be a Daughter after all!'
保羅一直沒有從他的小床上起來過。他躺在那里，十分平靜地聽著街道上的喧囂聲；他不很關心時間怎么流逝，但卻用他留神的眼睛注視著它，并注視著周圍的一切。
當陽光透過颯颯拂動的窗簾射入他的房間，像金黃色的水一樣，在對面的墻上蕩漾時，他知道晚間即將來臨，天空紅而美麗。當返照的回光漸漸消失，幽暗的暮色漸漸爬上墻壁的時候，他注視著它加深，加深，最后變成了夜間。于是他想到了長長的街道上怎樣到處點綴著路燈，寧靜的星群怎樣在上空閃耀。奇怪的是，他的想像總愛飄浮到河邊，他知道河水正穿流過這座巨大的城市；現在他想到它是多么烏黑，當它映照著星群時看去是多么深邃，尤其是，它是多么一往直前、滔滔不絕地滾流進海洋里去。
夜?jié)u漸深了，街上的腳步聲漸漸稀少了，他可以聽見它們走近，當它們走過時可以數清它們的數目，然后聽憑它們在空曠寂靜的遠方消失；這時候，他就躺在那里，注視著蠟燭周圍五顏六色的光圈，耐心地等待著白天來臨。引起他不安的是那奔騰迅速、湍急的河流，有時他必須設法阻止它——用他孩子的手擋住它——或者用沙子堵住它的道路——，而當他看到它不可抗拒地繼續(xù)向前奔流的時候，他就哭出來！可是經常待在他身旁的弗洛倫斯只要講一句話就能使他恢復平靜；這時他就把他可憐的腦袋倚靠在她的胸前，把他的夢境講給她聽，并且微笑著。
當黎明重新來臨時，他盼望著太陽；當它那明亮喜人的光輝開始在房間里閃耀時，他為自己描繪了——，不，不是描繪了，而是看見了一幅圖景：高高的教堂鐘樓聳立在早晨的天空中；城市復活了，蘇醒了，重新開始了生活，河流滾滾奔流（但仍和往常一樣快），發(fā)出了閃閃的亮光；鄉(xiāng)間的田野覆蓋著亮晶晶的露珠，一片光輝。熟悉的聲音和喊叫聲逐漸從下面的街道中傳來；公館中的仆人們醒來了，忙忙碌碌，好些臉孔從門口往里探望，好些聲音在悄悄地問那些看護他的人，他怎么樣了。保羅總是自己回答道，“我好些了。我好多了，謝謝您！請這樣告訴我爸爸吧！”
白天的忙亂，馬車、大車的喧鬧聲和人們的來來往往漸漸使他感到厭倦，他會睡去，或者又會因為那迅猛奔騰的河流感到急躁不安，無法平靜——孩子不知道這是在他睡著的時候還是醒著的時候發(fā)生的事情。“唉，它就永遠也不停嗎，弗洛伊？”有時他會問她，“我覺得，它是要把我?guī)ё吣?！?BR> 但是弗洛伊總是安慰他，叫他安心；他總是讓她把頭躺在他的枕頭上，休息一會兒，這已成為他每天的快樂。
“你總一直在看護著我，弗洛伊，現在讓我來看護你吧！”他們會在他的床角放一個軟墊來支撐他；當她躺在他身旁時，他就斜靠在那里，不時彎下身去吻她，并跟床邊的人低聲說，她累了，她曾經怎樣許多夜坐在他的身旁。
就這樣，炎熱、光明的白天的亮光逐漸消逝了，金黃色的水波又重新在墻上蕩漾。
有三位重要的醫(yī)生來看他——他們通常在樓下開會，然后一起上來——；房間里非常安靜，保羅又非常注意地觀察他們（雖然他從來沒有向任何人問過他們說了些什么），所以他甚至可以分辨得出他們表聲的差別。但是他的興趣集中在經常坐在他床邊的帕克·佩普斯爵士身上。因為保羅好久以前曾聽他們說，當他媽媽把弗洛倫斯摟在懷里死去的時候，這位先生也在場?，F在他忘不了這件事。他由于這一點而喜歡他。他不害怕。
他周圍的人們在莫名其妙地變換著，就像在布林伯博士家里頭一個晚上一樣。只有弗洛倫斯一個人例外，她從來沒有被換走過。先前是帕克·佩普斯，現在卻換成了他的父親，坐在那里，用一只手支托著頭。在安樂椅里打瞌睡的老皮普欽太太時常變換成托克斯小姐或他的姑媽；這時保羅很樂意重新閉上眼睛，平平靜靜地等待著隨后發(fā)生的情況。但是這個用一只手支托著頭的人影兒這么頻繁地回來，待的時間這么長久，坐在那里那么呆板、嚴肅，從來不跟人說話，也從來沒有人跟他說話，又很少抬起臉來，因此保羅開始倦乏地納悶，他究竟是不是真的人，夜間看到他坐在那里的時候他感到害怕。
“弗洛伊！”他問道，“那是什么？”
“哪兒，親愛的？”
“那里！在床的那一頭！”
“那是爸爸，沒有別的?！?BR> 那人影兒抬起頭，站起來，走到床邊，說道，“我親愛的孩子，你不認識我了嗎？”
保羅看著那人影兒的臉，心里想，這是他的父親嗎？他覺得那張臉已經改變了許多；當他注視它的時候，它似乎由于痛苦而顫動著；他還來不及伸出兩只手捧住它，把它拉向身邊時，那人影兒就迅速從小床邊轉開，走向門口。
保羅懷著一顆忐忑不安的心望著弗洛倫斯，但是他知道她將要說什么，就用臉堵住她的嘴唇。他下一次看到那人影兒坐在床的那一頭時，他向它喊道：
“不要為我這么難過，親愛的爸爸！我確實是很快樂的！”
他父親很快走過來，沒有在床邊先停留一會兒，就立刻向他彎下身子；這時候保羅摟著他的脖子，把這些話很懇切地向他重復說了幾次；在這之后，不論是白天還是黑夜，保羅就沒有再看見他來到房間里來了；他經常喊道，“不要為我這樣難過，我確實是很快樂的！”也就是從這時候起，他開始每天早上總要說，他好多了，請他們這樣去告訴他的父親。
那金黃色的水波在墻上蕩漾了多少次，那烏黑烏黑的河流不顧他的不愿意，多少夜?jié)L滾流向海洋，保羅從來沒有計算過，也從來不想要知道。如果它們能夠更親切一些，或者他能感到它們對他更親切一些的話，那么，它們對他就會一天天更加親切了，而他對它們也就會一天天更為感激了。可是日子過去了多少，現在對這個溫順的孩子來說似乎并不重要。
有一天夜里，他一直在想他的母親和掛在樓下客廳中的她的畫像；他想到，她一定比他爸爸更愛弗洛倫斯；正因為這樣，所以當她覺得自己快要死的時候，她曾經把弗洛倫斯擁抱在懷中，因為甚至是他，她的弟弟，一個這樣深深地愛著她的人，也沒有比這更為強烈的愿望了。沿著這條思路想下去，他覺得需要問一個問題：他是不是見過他的媽媽，因為他已記不起他們是不是曾經告訴過他“見過”還是“沒有見過”；河水流得十分迅速，使他的頭腦混亂不清。
“弗洛伊，我看見過媽媽沒有？”
“沒有，親愛的，為什么你要問這個問題？”
“當我還是個嬰兒的時候，我有沒有看見過像媽媽那樣仁慈的臉看著我，弗洛伊？”
他表示懷疑地問道，仿佛在他面前出現了一張臉孔的幻影。
“是的，你看見過，親愛的！”
“誰的臉，弗洛伊？”
“你從前的奶媽的，你常常見到它。”
“我從前的奶媽現在在哪里？”保羅問道，“她是不是也死了？弗洛伊，是不是除了你，我們大家全都死了？”
房間里一陣慌亂，持續(xù)了片刻——也許還長久些，但似乎也不會長久多少——，然后一切又平靜下來。弗洛倫斯臉上毫無血色，但卻微笑著，用胳膊枕著他的頭。她的胳膊顫抖得很厲害。
“請讓我看看我從前的那位奶媽吧，弗洛伊！”
“她不在這里，親愛的。她明天一定會來的。”
“謝謝你，弗洛伊！”
保羅講完這些話，合上眼睛，睡著了。當他醒來的時候，太陽已經升高，白天明亮、溫暖。他躺了一會兒，望著打開的窗子和在微風中颯颯作響、來回飄動的窗簾；然后他問道：
“弗洛伊，明天到了嗎？她來了嗎？”
似乎已經有人去找她了。也許是蘇珊。保羅覺得，當他重新合上眼睛的時候，他聽到她告訴他，她很快就會回來；但是他沒有張開眼睛看。她信守她的諾言——也許她先前從沒有離開過呢——可是接著，樓梯上傳來了一陣腳步聲，于是保羅醒來了——腦子和身體全都清醒了——，筆直地坐在床上。他現在看見他們都聚集在他的身旁。夜間有時出現的那一層灰蒙蒙的霧，已經在他們面前消失。他認識他們每一個人，并喊出他們每一個人的名字。
“這是誰呀？是我從前的奶媽嗎？”孩子容光煥發(fā)，滿臉笑容地望著走進來的一個人影兒問道。
是的，是的。不會有另一位陌生人見到他的時候會流出那些眼淚，會把他叫做她親愛的孩子，她寶貝的孩子，她可憐的多病多難的孩子。不會有另外一位婦女會在他的床旁彎下身來，舉起他消瘦的手，貼在她的嘴唇和胸脯上，像一個有權利愛撫他的人那樣。不會有另外一位婦女會這樣把所有在場的人全都忘記，而只記得他和弗洛伊兩人，會對他們兩人這樣充滿了親切與憐憫的感情。
“弗洛伊，她的臉多么慈祥、多么善良呀！”保羅說道，“我真高興，我又看到它了。別離開，老奶媽！待在這里吧?！?BR> 他所有的感官都敏銳起來了，他聽到一個他熟悉的名字。
“是誰說‘沃爾特’的？”他環(huán)顧四周，問道，“有人說到沃爾特，他在這里嗎？我非常想看到他。”
誰也沒有直接回答他，但是他的父親立刻對蘇珊說，“那就喊他回來吧，讓他上樓來！”在短暫的等待時間中，保羅懷著興趣與驚異，微笑地看著他的奶媽，看到她沒有忘記弗洛伊。不久，沃爾特被領進房間。他那坦誠的臉孔和態(tài)度，他那快活的眼睛，使他一直成為保羅所喜愛的人；保羅看到他時，伸出手說，“別了?！?BR> “別了，我的孩子！”皮普欽太太急忙跑到他的床頭，說道，“不是別了吧？”
保羅用沉思的臉色朝她望了一會兒，過去他在爐邊的角落里就經常用這種臉色凝視著她的?！鞍?，是的，”他平靜地說，“別了！親愛的沃爾特，別了！”他把頭轉向沃爾特站著的地方，再次伸出手?！鞍职衷谀睦?？”
這些話還沒有說出口來，他就感覺到了他父親貼住他臉頰時的呼吸。
“別忘記沃爾特，親愛的爸爸，”他望著他的臉，低聲說道，“別忘記沃爾特。我喜歡沃爾特！”那只虛弱的手在空中揮動著，仿佛它再一次向沃爾特喊道，“別了！”
“現在把我放下來躺著，”他說，“弗洛伊，走來挨近我，讓我看著你！”
姐姐和弟弟伸出胳膊互相擁抱著。金黃色的陽光射進房間，射到他們緊緊抱在一起的身上。
“河水在綠色的河岸與蘆葦中間流得多么快呀！弗洛伊！但是它離海很近了。我聽到了海浪的聲音！它們老是說著這樣的話！”
接著，他告訴她，小船在河流上漂動，正在向他催眠?，F在河岸多么蔥翠，上面長著的花朵是多么鮮艷，蘆葦是多么高！現在小船已經駛進海里了，但它仍舊繼續(xù)平穩(wěn)地向前滑行著。現在海岸出現在他前面。誰站在岸上？——他像平時祈禱時那樣合著雙手。他并沒有把雙手合攏。
“媽媽像你，弗洛伊。我從你的臉孔中認出了她！但請告訴他們，學校里樓梯上的那幅圣像沒有充分表現出神圣的氣概。我走的時候，他頭上的靈光正為我照耀著道路！”
墻上金黃色的漣漪又重新在蕩漾，房間里沒有別的在動。那古老而又古老的先例??！隨著我們有了最初的衣服，這先例就已創(chuàng)立了，它將永不改變地延續(xù)下去，直到我們的族類走完了他們的旅程為止，到那時遼闊的蒼穹就像一幅卷軸似地收卷了起來，那古老而又古老的先例——死亡??！
啊，凡是看見的人都要感謝上帝，為了那更為古老的先例——永生！天使般的孩子們啊，當湍急的河流運載著我們漂向海洋去的時候，請別那樣疏遠冷漠地看著我們吧！