she retained Little Dorrit's hand in hers； with a cautious pressure； and
said； 'No； thank you。 But； if you will please to see if my boatman is
there； I shall be obliged to you。'
It left him no choice but to go down before them。 As he did so； hat in
hand； Mrs Gowan whispered：
'He killed the dog。'
'Does Mr Gowan know it？' Little Dorrit whispered。
'No one knows it。 Don't look towards me； look towards him。 He will turn
his face in a moment。 No one knows it； but I am sure he did。 You are？'
'I……I think so；' Little Dorrit answered。
'Henry likes him； and he will not think ill of him； he is so generous
and open himself。 But you and I feel sure that we think of him as he
deserves。 He argued with Henry that the dog had been already poisoned
when he changed so； and sprang at him。 Henry believes it； but we do not。
I see he is listening； but can't hear。
Good…bye； my love！ Good…bye！'
The last words were spoken aloud； as the vigilant Blandois stopped；
turned his head； and looked at them from the bottom of the staircase。
Assuredly he did look then； though he looked his politest； as if any
real philanthropist could have desired no better employment than to lash
a great stone to his neck； and drop him into the water flowing beyond
the dark arched gateway in which he stood。 No such benefactor to mankind
being on the spot； he handed Mrs Gowan to her boat； and stood there
until it had shot out of the narrow view； when he handed himself into
his own boat and followed。
Little Dorrit had sometimes thought； and now thought again as she
retraced her steps up the staircase； that he had made his way too easily
into her father's house。 But so many and such varieties of people did
the same； through Mr Dorrit's participation in his elder daughter's
society mania； that it was hardly an exceptional case。 A perfect fury
for making acquaintances on whom to impress their riches and importance；
had seized the House of Dorrit。
It appeared on the whole； to Little Dorrit herself； that this same
society in which they lived； greatly resembled a superior sort of
Marshalsea。 Numbers of people seemed to e abroad； pretty much
as people had e into the prison； through debt； through idleness；
relationship； curiosity； and general unfitness for getting on at home。
They were brought into these foreign towns in the custody of couriers
and local followers； just as the debtors had been brought into the
prison。 They prowled about the churches and picture…galleries； much in
the old； dreary； prison…yard manner。 They were usually going away again
to…morrow or next week； and rarely knew their own minds； and seldom did
what they said they would do； or went where they said they would go： in
all this again； very like the prison debtors。 They paid high for poor
acmodation； and disparaged a place while they pretended to like it：
which was exactly the Marshalsea custom。 They were envied when they went
away by people left behind； feigning not to want to go： and that again
was the Marshalsea habit invariably。 A certain set of words and phrases；
as much belonging to tourists as the College and the Snuggery belonged
to the jail； was always in their mouths。 They had precisely the same
incapacity for settling down to anything； as the prisoners used to have；
they rather deteriorated one another； as the prisoners used to do； and
they wore untidy dresses； and fell into a slouching way of life： still；
always like the people in the Marshalsea。
The period of the family's stay at Venice came； in its course； to an
end； and they moved； with their retinue； to Rome。 Through a repetition
of the former Italian scenes； growing more dirty and more haggard as
they went on； and bringing them at length to where the very air was
diseased； they passed to their destination。 A fine residence had been
taken for them on the Corso； and there they took up their abode； in a
city where everything seemed to be trying to stand still for ever on
the ruins of something else……except the water； which； following eternal
laws； tumbled and rolled from its glorious multitude of fountains。
Here it seemed to Little Dorrit that a change came over the Marshalsea
spirit of their society； and that Prunes and Prism got the upper hand。
Everybody was walking about St Peter's and the Vatican on somebody
else's cork legs； and straining every visible object through somebody
else's sieve。 Nobody said what anything was； but everybody said what the
Mrs Generals； Mr Eustace； or somebody else said it was。 The whole body
of travellers seemed to be a collection of voluntary human sacrifices；
bound hand and foot； and delivered over to Mr Eustace and his
attendants； to have the entrails of their intellects arranged according
to the taste of that sacred priesthood。 Through the rugged remains
of temples and tombs and palaces and senate halls and theatres and
amphitheatres of ancient days； hosts of tongue…tied and blindfolded
moderns were carefully feeling their way； incessantly repeating Prunes
and Prism in the endeavour to set their lips according to the received
form。 Mrs General was in her pure element。 Nobody had an opinion。 There
was a formation of surface going on around her on an amazing scale； and
it had not a flaw of courage or honest free speech in it。
Another modification of Prunes and Prism insinuated itself on Little
Dorrit's notice very shortly after their arrival。 They received an early
visit from Mrs Merdle； who led that extensive department of life in the
Eternal City that winter； and the skilful manner in which she and Fanny
fenced with one another on the occasion； almost made her quiet sister
wink； like the glittering of small…swords。
'So delighted；' said Mrs Merdle； 'to resume an acquaintance so
inauspiciously begun at Martigny。'
'At Martigny； of course；' said Fanny。 'Charmed； I am sure！'
'I understand；' said Mrs Merdle； 'from my son Edmund Sparkler； that
he has already improved that chance occasion。 He has returned quite
transported with Venice。'
'Indeed？' returned the careless Fanny。 'Was he there long？'
'I might refer that question to Mr Dorrit；' said Mrs Merdle； turning the
bosom towards that gentleman； 'Edmund having been so much indebted to
him for rendering his stay agreeable。'
'Oh； pray don't speak of it；' returned Fanny。 'I believe Papa had the
pleasure of inviting Mr Sparkler twice or thrice；……but it was nothing。
We had so many people about us； and kept such open house； that if he had
that pleasure； it was less than nothing。'
'Except； my dear；' said Mr Dorrit； 'except……ha……as it afforded me
unusual gratification to……hum……show by any means； however slight and
worthless； the……ha； hum……high estimation in which； in……ha……mon with
the rest of the world； I hold so distinguished and princely a character
as Mr Merdle's。'
The bosom received this tribute in its most engaging manner。 'Mr
Merdle；' observed Fanny； as a means of dismissing Mr Sparkler into the
background； 'is quite a theme of Papa's； you must know； Mrs Merdle。'
'I have been……ha……disappointed； madam；' said Mr Dorrit； 'to understand
from Mr Sparkler that there is no great……hum……probability of Mr Merdle's
ing abroad。'
'Why； indee