Little Dorrit Vol.1 f.015 recto

“H[?] Here!”[?? ???s ???] cried Monsieur Rigaud [??????? ?? ?????] . “You may drink. You may finish it this this it.”

It was no great gift, for there was mighty little wine left; but Signor Cavalletto, jumping to his feet, received the bottle gratefully, turned it upside down at his mouth, and smacked his lips.

“Put the bottle by with the rest,” said Rigaud.

The little man obeyed his orders, and stood ready to give him a lighted match; for he was now
rolling his tobacco into cigarettes by the aid of little squares of paper which had been brought in with it.

“Here! You may have one.”

“A thousand thanks my master!” John Baptist said thisit in his own language, and with the
quick [??]l[??????] conciliatory manner of his own countrymen.

Then Monsieur Rigaud arose, p[????]d lighted a cigarettes, put the rest of his stock into a breast-pocket and [??????] stretched
himself out at full length upon the bench. Cavalletto sat down on the pavement, holding one of his ankles in each hand, and
smoking [?????????] peacefully [??????????]. There seemed to be some uncomfortable attraction of Monsieur
Rigauds eyes to the immediate [?? ???????????????] neighbourhood of that part of the pavement where the thumb had been in the plan. They were so
drawn in that direction, that [???? ???????] the [??????????] Italian more than once followed them to and back from the pavement in some surprise.

“What an infernal hole this is!” said Monsieur Rigaud, breaking a long pause. “Look at the light of day. Day? the light of yesterday week, the light of six months ago, the light of six years ago. So slack and dead!”

It came languishing down a square funnel that blinded a window in the staircase wall, through which the
sky was never seen—nor [????? ????] anything else.

“Cavalletto,” said Monsieur Rigaud Rigaud, suddenly withdrawing his gaze
from this funnel to which they had both involuntarily turned their eyes, “you know me for a
gentleman?”

“Surely, surely!”

“How long have we been here?”

“I, [????????] [??????] eleven weeks, to-morrow night at midnight. You, [??????] nine weeks and three days, at five this
day afternoon.”

“Have I ever done anything here? Ever touched the broom, or spread the mats, or rolled them up, or found the draughts, or collected the dominoes, or put my hand to any kind of work?”

“Never!”

“Have you ever thought of asking looking to me to do any kind of work [??]?”

[???????] John Baptist answered with that peculiar back-handed shake of the right forefinger which is the most expressive negative in the Italian language.

“No! You knew from the first moment when you saw me here, that I was a gentleman?”

“ALTRO!” cried returned John Baptist, closing his eyes and giving his head a most vehement toss. The word being, according to its Genoese emphasis, a confirmation, a contradiction, an assertion, a denial, a taunt, a compliment, a joke, and fifty other things, became in the present instance, with a significance beyond all power of written expression, our familiar English “I believe you!”

“Haha! You are right! A gentleman I am! And a gentleman I’ll live, and a gentleman I’ll die! It’s my intent to be a gentleman. It’s my game. Death of my soul, I play it out wherever I go!”

He changed his posture to a sitting one, crying with a triumphant air: