The Shop of Ghosts: A Good Dream(2)

To shake off this dangerous and dreamy sense I went into the shop and tried to buy wooden soldiers. The man in the shop was very old and broken, with confused white hair covering his head and half his face, hair so startlingly white that it looked almost artificial. Yet though he was senile and even sick, there was nothing of suffering in his eyes; he looked rather as if he were gradually falling asleep in a not unkindly decay. He gave me the wooden soldiers, but when I put down the money he did not at first seem to see it; then he blinked at it feebly, and then he pushed it feebly away. No, no, he said vaguely. I never have. I never have. We are rather old fashioned here. Not taking money, I replied, seems to me more like an uncommonly new fashion than an old one. I never have, said the old man, blinking and blowing his nose; I've always given presents. Im too old to stop. Good heaven! I said. What can you mean? Why, you might be Father Christmas(크리스마스를 의인화, Santa Claus). I am Father Christmas, he said apologetically, and blew his nose again. The lamps could not have been lighted yet in the street outside. At any rate, I could see nothing against the darkness but the shining shop-window. There were no sounds of steps or voices in the street; I might have strayed into some new and sunless world. But something had cut the cords of common sense, and I could not feel even surprise except sleepily. Something made me say, You look ill, Father Christmas. I am dying, he said. I did not speak, and it was he who spoke again. All the new people have left my shop. I cannot understand it. They seem to object to me on such curious and inconsistent sort of grounds these scientific men, and these innovators. They say that I give people superstitions and make them too visionary; they say I give people sausages and make them too coarse. They say my heavenly parts are too heavenly; they want, Im sure. How can heavenly things be too heavenly or earthly things too earthly? How can one be too good, or too jolly? I dont understand. But I understand one thing well enough. These modern people are living and I am dead. Your may be dead, I replied. You ought to know. But as for what they are doing-do not call it living. * * * A silence fell suddenly between us, which I somehow expected to be unbroken. But it had not fallen for more than a few seconds when, in the utter stillness, I distinctly heard a very rapid step coming nearer and nearer along the street. The next moment a figure flung itself into the shop and stood framed in the doorway. He wore a large white hat tilted back as if in impatience; he had tight bright old-fashioned pantaloons, a gaudy old-fashioned stock(목도리) and waistcoat, and old fantastic coat. He had large wide-open luminous eyes like those of an arresting actor(인기배우); he had a fiery, nervous face, and a fringe of beard. He took in the shop and the old man in a look that seemed literally a flash and uttered the exclamation of a man utterly staggered. Good load, he cried out, it cant be you! It isnt you! I came to ask where your grave was. Im not dead yet, Mr. Dickens, said the old gentleman, with a feeble smile; but I'm dying, he hastened to add reassuringly. But, dash it all, you were dying in my time, said Mr. Charles Dickens with animation; and you dont look a day older(조금도 늙어보이지 않다). I've felt like this for a long time, said Father Christmas. Mr. Dickens turned his back and put his head out of the door into the darkness. Dick, he roared at the top of his voice, hes still alive. *Mr. Dickens: 소설가 Charles Dickens(1812~1870). Christmas carol, the cricket on the hearth 등의 Christmas books를 썼으므로 Father Christmas와는 인연이 깊다는 의미이다. 곧 마지막 세번째도 올리겠습니다.^^