Don't blame me for this public
interference. You have brought it upon yourself; not I.'
'Sit down, beggar!' screamed Squeers, almost beside himself with rage,
and seizing Smike as he spoke.
'Wretch,' rejoined Nicholas, fiercely, 'touch him at your peril! I will
not stand by, and see it done. My blood is up, and I have the strength
of ten such men as you. Look to yourself, for by Heaven I will not spare
you, if you drive me on!'
'Stand back,' cried Squeers, brandishing his weapon.
'I have a long series of insults to avenge,' said Nicholas, flushed with
passion; 'and my indignation is aggravated by the dastardly cruelties
practised on helpless infancy in this foul den. Have a care; for if you
do raise the devil within me, the consequences shall fall heavily upon
your own head!'
He had scarcely spoken, when Squeers, in a violent outbreak of wrath,
and with a cry like the howl of a wild beast, spat upon him, and struck
him a blow across the face with his instrument of torture, which raised
up a bar of livid flesh as it was inflicted. Smarting with the agony
of the blow, and concentrating into that one moment all his feelings
of rage, scorn, and indignation, Nicholas sprang upon him, wrested the
weapon from his hand, and pinning him by the throat, beat the ruffian
till he roared for mercy.
Pages:
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293