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,