His greed at dinner, too, was closely in keeping with the greed of
Monsieur Rigaud at breakfast. His avaricious manner of collecting all
the eatables about him, and devouring some with his eyes while devouring
others with his jaws, was the same manner. His utter disregard of
other people, as shown in his way of tossing the little womanly toys
of furniture about, flinging favourite cushions under his boots for a
softer rest, and crushing delicate coverings with his big body and his
great black head, had the same brute selfishness at the bottom of it.
The softly moving hands that were so busy among the dishes had the old
wicked facility of the hands that had clung to the bars. And when he
could eat no more, and sat sucking his delicate fingers one by one and
wiping them on a cloth, there wanted nothing but the substitution of
vine-leaves to finish the picture.
On this man, with his moustache going up and his nose coming down in
that most evil of smiles, and with his surface eyes looking as if they
belonged to his dyed hair, and had had their natural power of reflecting
light stopped by some similar process, Nature, always true, and never
working in vain, had set the mark, Beware! It was not her fault, if the
warning were fruitless.
She is never to blame in any such instance. Mr Blandois, having finished his repast and cleaned his fingers, took
a cigar from his pocket, and, lying on the window-seat again, smoked it
out at his leisure, occasionally apostrophising the smoke as it parted
from his thin lips in a thin stream:
'Blandois, you shall turn the tables on society, my little child. Haha!
Holy blue, you have begun well, Blandois! At a pinch, an excellent
master in English or French; a man for the bosom of families! You have
a quick perception, you have humour, you have ease, you have insinuating
manners, you have a good appearance; in effect, you are a gentleman! A
gentleman you shall live, my small boy, and a gentleman you shall die.
You shall win, however the game goes. They shall all confess your merit,
Blandois. You shall subdue the society which has grievously wronged
you, to your own high spirit. Death of my soul! You are high spirited by
right and by nature, my Blandois!'
To such soothing murmurs did this gentleman smoke out his cigar and
drink out his bottle of wine. Both being finished, he shook himself into
a sitting attitude; and with the concluding serious apostrophe, 'Hold,
then! Blandois, you ingenious one, have all your wits about you!' arose
and went back to the house of Clennam and Co.