fault to find with the old lady for eliciting it； now that he was
relieved from the terrors of her presence； and they took a glass or
two of wine in peace。 Foreseeing then that the Pancks would shortly get
under weigh； and that the Patriarch would go to sleep； he pleaded the
necessity of visiting his mother； and asked Mr Pancks in which direction
he was going？
'Citywards； sir；' said Pancks。 'Shall we walk together？' said Arthur。
'Quite agreeable；' said Pancks。
Meanwhile Flora was murmuring in rapid snatches for his ear； that there
was a time and that the past was a yawning gulf however and that a
golden chain no longer bound him and that she revered the memory of the
late Mr F。 and that she should be at home to…morrow at half…past one
and that the decrees of Fate were beyond recall and that she considered
nothing so improbable as that he ever walked on the north…west side of
Gray's…Inn Gardens at exactly four o'clock in the afternoon。 He tried
at parting to give his hand in frankness to the existing Flora……not the
vanished Flora； or the mermaid……but Flora wouldn't have it； couldn't
have it； was wholly destitute of the power of separating herself and him
from their bygone characters。 He left the house miserably enough； and
so much more light…headed than ever； that if it had not been his good
fortune to be towed away； he might； for the first quarter of an hour；
have drifted anywhere。
When he began to e to himself； in the cooler air and the absence of
Flora； he found Pancks at full speed； cropping such scanty pasturage of
nails as he could find； and snorting at intervals。 These； in conjunction
with one hand in his pocket and his roughened hat hind side before； were
evidently the conditions under which he reflected。
'A fresh night！' said Arthur。
'Yes； it's pretty fresh；' assented Pancks。 'As a stranger you feel the
climate more than I do； I dare say。 Indeed I haven't got time to feel
it。'
'You lead such a busy life？'
'Yes； I have always some of 'em to look up； or something to look after。
But I like business；' said Pancks； getting on a little faster。 'What's a
man made for？'
'For nothing else？' said Clennam。
Pancks put the counter question； 'What else？' It packed up； in the
smallest pass； a weight that had rested on Clennam's life； and he
made no answer。
'That's what I ask our weekly tenants；' said Pancks。 'Some of 'em will
pull long faces to me； and say； Poor as you see us； master； we're always
grinding； drudging； toiling； every minute we're awake。
I say to them； What else are you made for？ It shuts them up。 They
haven't a word to answer。 What else are you made for？ That clinches it。'
'Ah dear； dear； dear！' sighed Clennam。
'Here am I；' said Pancks； pursuing his argument with the weekly tenant。
'What else do you suppose I think I am made for？ Nothing。
Rattle me out of bed early； set me going； give me as short a time as you
like to bolt my meals in； and keep me at it。 Keep me always at it； and
I'll keep you always at it； you keep somebody else always at it。 There
you are with the Whole Duty of Man in a mercial country。'
When they had walked a little further in silence； Clennam said： 'Have
you no taste for anything； Mr Pancks？'
'What's taste？' drily retorted Pancks。
'Let us say inclination。'
'I have an inclination to get money； sir；' said Pancks； 'if you will
show me how。' He blew off that sound again； and it occurred to his
panion for the first time that it was his way of laughing。 He was a
singular man in all respects； he might not have been quite in earnest；
but that the short； hard； rapid manner in which he shot out these
cinders of principles； as if it were done by mechanical revolvency；
seemed irreconcilable with banter。
'You are no great reader； I suppose？' said Clennam。
'Never read anything but letters and accounts。 Never collect anything
but advertisements relative to next of kin。 If that's a taste； I have
got that。 You're not of the Clennams of Cornwall； Mr Clennam？'
'Not that I ever heard of。' 'I know you're not。 I asked your mother；
sir。 She has too much character to let a chance escape her。'
'Supposing I had been of the Clennams of Cornwall？' 'You'd have heard of
something to your advantage。'
'Indeed！ I have heard of little enough to my advantage for some time。'
'There's a Cornish property going a begging； sir； and not a Cornish
Clennam to have it for the asking；' said Pancks； taking his note…book
from his breast pocket and putting it in again。 'I turn off here。 I wish
you good night。'
'Good night！' said Clennam。 But the Tug； suddenly lightened； and
untrammelled by having any weight in tow； was already puffing away into
the distance。
They had crossed Smithfield together； and Clennam was left alone at the
corner of Barbican。 He had no intention of presenting himself in his
mother's dismal room that night； and could not have felt more depressed
and cast away if he had been in a wilderness。 He turned slowly down
Aldersgate Street； and was pondering his way along towards Saint Paul's；
purposing to e into one of the great thoroughfares for the sake of
their light and life； when a crowd of people flocked towards him on the
same pavement； and he stood aside against a shop to let them pass。 As
they came up； he made out that they were gathered around a something
that was carried on men's shoulders。 He soon saw that it was a litter；
hastily made of a shutter or some such thing； and a recumbent figure
upon it； and the scraps of conversation in the crowd； and a muddy bundle
carried by one man； and a muddy hat carried by another； informed him
that an accident had occurred。 The litter stopped under a lamp before it
had passed him half…a…dozen paces； for some readjustment of the burden；
and； the crowd stopping too； he found himself in the midst of the array。
'An accident going to the Hospital？' he asked an old man beside him； who
stood shaking his head； inviting conversation。
'Yes；' said the man； 'along of them Mails。 They ought to be prosecuted
and fined； them Mails。 They e a racing out of Lad Lane and Wood
Street at twelve or fourteen mile a hour； them Mails do。 The only wonder
is； that people ain't killed oftener by them Mails。'
'This person is not killed； I hope？'
'I don't know！' said the man； 'it an't for the want of a will in them
Mails； if he an't。' The speaker having folded his arms； and set in
fortably to address his depreciation of them Mails to any of the
bystanders who would listen； several voices； out of pure sympathy with
the sufferer； confirmed him； one voice saying to Clennam； 'They're a
public nuisance； them Mails； sir；' another； 'I see one on 'em pull up
within half a inch of a boy； last night；' another； 'I see one on 'em
go over a cat； sir……and it might have been your own mother；' and all
representing； by implication； that if he happened to possess any public
influence； he could not use it better than against them Mails。
'Why； a native Englishman is put to it every night of his life； to save
his life from them Mails；' argued the first old man； 'and he knows when
they're a ing round the corner； to tear him limb from limb。 What can
you expect from a poor foreigner who don't know nothing about 'em！'
'Is this a foreigner？' said Clennam； leaning forward to look。
In the midst of such replies as 'Frenchman； sir；' 'Porteghee； sir；'
'Dutchman； sir；' 'Prooshan； sir；' and other conflicting testimony； he
now heard a feeble voice asking； both in Italian and in French； for
water。 A general remark going round； in reply； of 'Ah； poor fellow；
he says he'll never get over it； and no wonder！' Clennam begged to be
allowed to pass； as he understood the poor creature。 He was immediately
handed to the front； to speak to him。
'First； he wants some water；' said he； looking round。 （A dozen good
fellows dispersed to get it。） 'Are you badly hurt； my friend？' he asked
the man on the litter； in Italian。
'Yes； sir； yes； yes； yes。 It's my leg； it's my leg。 But it pleases me to
hear the old music； though I am very bad。'
'You are a traveller！ Stay！ See； the water！ Let me give you some。' They
had rested the litter on a pile of paving stones。 It was at a convenient
height from the ground； and by stooping he could lightly raise the head
with one hand and hold the glass to his lips with the other。 A little；
muscular； brown man； with black hair and white teeth。 A lively face；
apparently。 Earrings in his ears。
'That's well。 You are a traveller？'
'Surely； sir。'
'A stranger in this city？'
'Surely； surely； altogether。 I am arrived this unhappy evening。'
'From what country？' 'Marseilles。'
'Why； see there！ I also！ Almost as much a stranger here as you； though
born here； I came from Marseilles a little while ago。 Don't be cast
down。' The face looked up at him imploringly； as he rose from wiping it；
and gently replaced the coat that covered the writhing figure。 'I won't
leave you till you shall be well taken care of。 Courage！ You will be
very much better half an hour hence。'
'Ah！ Altro； Altro！' cried the poor little man； in a faintly incredulous
tone； and as they took him up； hung out his right hand to give the
forefinger a back…handed shake in the air。
Arthur Clennam turned； and walking beside the litter； and saying an
encouraging word now and then； acpanied it to the neighbouring
hospital of Saint Bartholomew。 None of the crowd but the bearers and
he being admitted； the disabled man was soon laid on a table in a cool；
methodical way； and carefully examined by a surgeon who was as near at
hand； and as ready to appear as Calamity herself。 'He hardly knows an
English word；' said Clennam； 'is he badly hurt？'
'Let us know all about it first；' said the surgeon； continuing his
examination with a businesslike delight in it； 'before we pronounce。'
After trying the leg with a finger； and two fingers； and one hand and
two hands； and over and under； and up and down； and in this direction
and in that； and approvingly remarking on the points of interest to
another gentleman who joined him； the surgeon at last clapped the
patient on the shoulder； and said； 'He won't hurt。 He'll do very well。
It's difficult enough； but we shall not want him