David Copperfield

Chapter 16 First Semester at Salem (2)
Chapter 7 First term at Salem (2)
On the morning I first arrived in London, I ate my breakfast to the whine of the flute and fell asleep under the feathers of a peacock; , in itself, is really serious.

One day, Mr. Krigul could not come to school due to illness, and of course a happy atmosphere permeated the whole school.Therefore, the noise in class in the morning is very loud.The ease and contentment with which the pupils feel, once they are out of the cage, is irresistible; and though two or three visits by the dreaded Tungai, and taking note of the names of the most troublesome pupils, do little good; We all know that no matter what, tomorrow will definitely be beaten, so there is no doubt that it is best to have fun in time today.

It was a half-holiday (because it was Saturday), but because the loud noises in the playground would disturb Mr. Krigul, and the weather was bad that day, everyone was willing to stay in the classroom and do some special preparations that were easier than usual homework.It was the day when Mr. Sharp went out to have his hair permed, so Mr. Meyer was alone in charge of the students.

Mr. Maier's softness is hardly reminiscent of a bull or a bear.But that afternoon, when the students were at their worst, it conjured up images of a bull or a bear being bitten and teased by a thousand dogs.I remember Mr Meyer resting his aching head on his thin hands, hunched over the books on his desk, trying to do his work amidst the din that would make the Speaker of the House of Commons dizzy.Those students came in and out of their seats and fought with other students; some laughed, some sang, some talked, some howled, some shuffled, some circled around him, and some barked Grinning and grimacing; imitating his strange appearance in front of his back, imitating his poor appearance, imitating his boots, coat, imitating his mother: in short, taking everything about him as a joke.

"Don't make any noise!" said Mr. Meyer, standing up suddenly, slapping his book on the table. "What are you trying to do! It's unbearable and maddening. How can you be so cruel!"

The book he used to slap the table was my book.Because I was next to him, I followed his gaze and looked around. All the students stopped making trouble, some were taken aback, some seemed a little scared, and some maybe felt ashamed.

Steerforth's seat was at the farthest rear, opposite the classroom.When Mr. Meyer looked at him, he was leaning against the wall, whistling with his hands in his pockets at Mr. Meyer.

"Master Steerforth, don't be noisy!" said Mr. Meyer.

"Be quiet yourself!" said Steerforth, blushing at the same time. "Who are you talking to?"

"Sit down," said Mr. Meyer.

Steerforth said: "Mind yourself!"

Some students were snickering, and some were applauding, but when they saw Mr. Meyer's face, they fell silent again; even one student who was going to jump behind him to imitate his mother changed his mind , pretending to repair the pen.

"If you think, Steerforth," said Mr. Meyer, "that I don't know everyone you control here" and he put his hand on my head (I think) intentionally or unconsciously, "or you think I don't Seeing that you used students younger than you to humiliate me in various ways, you were wrong."

"I don't want to trouble myself at all for you," said Steerforth calmly, "so, in fact, I'm not wrong at all."

"You take advantage of your favor here, sir," continued Mr. Meyer, his lips trembling with anger, "to insult a gentleman—"

"A what?—where?" said Steerforth.

"Jane Steerforth! You're out of character!" said Traddles, and Mr. Meyer stopped him immediately.

"Insulting an unfortunate person, young master, a person who has never offended you, at your age and intelligence, you should understand why you shouldn't do it," Mr. Meyer's lips trembled violently, "so your behavior is Very disgraceful. Do as you please! Read on, Copperfield."

"Little Copperfield," said Steerforth, coming forward, "wait a moment. I tell you the truth, Mr. Meyer, you call me mean, and you are a shameless beggar. You have always been a beggar." , you know this, but now, you have become a shameless beggar."

I couldn't tell whether he was going to beat Mr. Meyer, or Mr. Meyer was going to beat him, or if it was both.Suddenly I found that the whole classroom was stunned, like a stone.It turned out that Mr. Crigul came, and Tungai was standing aside, and Mrs and Miss Crigul looked in in surprise.Mr. Meyer sat motionless, his arms propped on the table, his face in his hands.

"Mr. Meyer," said Mr. Krigul, patting Mr. Meyer's shoulder, his voice was very clear this time, "remember your identity."

"I have not, sir," replied Mr. Meyer, showing his face, rubbing his hands excitedly, "Mr. Crigul, I have not. I wish you had remembered me earlier, and you would have been more merciful. Sir, that will save me trouble, sir."

Mr. Crigul, looking hard at Mr. Meyer, was sitting on a desk with his hands on Tungai's shoulders and his feet on a nearby bench.Mr. Meyer was still rubbing his hands nervously. Mr. Krigul gave Mr. Meyer another look, and then he turned to Steerforth and asked:

"Okay, so what's going on here?"

Steerforth avoided answering the question for some time.He just looked at his opponent with contempt and anger, but said nothing.I remember that even at that moment his appearance was dignified, and Mr. Meyer was ashamed of himself in comparison.

"What does he mean when he says I'm favored?" said Steerforth at last.

"Favoured?" Krigul repeated, the veins on his forehead suddenly became more obvious, "Who said that?"

"He," said Steerforth.

"Well, what's the meaning of that, old man?" asked Mr. Crigul, looking angrily at his assistant teacher.

"I mean, Headmaster," replied Mr. Mell in a low voice, "that a student must not take advantage of his favor to insult me."

"Insulting you?" said Mr. Crigul, "I ask you, what kind of sir are you?" At this moment, Mr. Crigul held the stick and everything to his chest with both hands, frowned and frowned. Almost out of sight, "When you say 'favored,' don't you respect and treat me, man," said Mr. Creeker, thrusting his head forward suddenly, then back again, "I am the principal of this school, and also your boss!"

"I should admit that I said it inappropriately, sir," said Mr. Meyer. "If I had been a little more patient, I should not have said it."

Here Steerforth interrupted:

"He also said that I was mean, that I was mean, so I called him a beggar. If I had restrained a little at the time, I would not have said such things. However, since I said it, I will bear the consequences."

I didn't think about the consequences at the time, I was just excited about these beautiful words.This had an effect on the other students as well, for there was some commotion among them, although no one dared to speak up.

"You astonish me, Steerforth—but your confession is admirable," said Krigul. "Of course I must say, Steerforth, how can you say that at Salem School?" On the hired teachers, old man."

Steerforth smiled.

"That's not an answer to my question, my boy," said Crigul. "I wish you had explained it better, Steerforth."

If Mr. Meyer was ugly compared with that handsome student, Mr. Krigul was really ugly compared with him.

"Ask him, then, to see if he dares to deny my statement," said Steerforth.

"Deny it, Steerforth?" cried Creigle. "Well, where is he begging?"

"Although he was not a beggar, his nearest relative was," said Steerforth, "it makes no difference."

Steerforth glanced at me, and at the same time Mr. Meyer patted me lightly on the shoulder.I was ashamed, and looked up with shame in my heart.But Mr Meyer still patted me gently on the shoulder, but it was Steerforth he was looking at.

"Headmaster, as you expect me to defend myself," said Steerforth, "then I will say that his mother lives on the handouts in a workhouse."

Still looking at Steerforth, Mr. Meyer patted me on the shoulder, and said to himself in a low voice, if I heard me right: "That's true."

Mr. Crigul frowned sternly, and said politely to his assistant teacher:

"Then, Mr. Meyer, please announce in front of the whole school, whether it is true or not."

"He's right, it's a fact," replied Mr. Meyer indifferently.

"Then please be kind enough to announce it," said Mr. Crigul, tilting his head and looking at all the students, "did I know about this before?"

"I don't think you're directly clear," he replied.

"You mean, then, I don't know!" said Mr. Crigul, "don't you, old man?"

"I'm sure you never thought how well I lived," replied his assistant teacher. "You know how I am and what I was."

"What you're saying, then," said Mr. Krigul, his veins more swollen than ever, "is that you've been quite wrong. This is not a charity school. Mr. Meyer, please find another job." Just, sorry, the sooner the better."

"I think it's best now," said Mr. Meyer, rising.

"Well, sir, please!" said Mr. Crigul.

"Then I bid farewell to you, Mr. Crigul, and all of you." Mr. Meyer looked around the classroom, then patted me on the shoulder and said, "James Steerforth, the only thing I have for you The hope is that one day you will regret what you have done today. At this moment, I hope that I do not consider you a friend, neither to me nor to anyone I care about."

He patted me on the shoulder again, then picked up his flute and some books from the desk, left the key on the desk, and walked out of the classroom.Mr. Crigul then made a speech to the pupils through Tun Gay, and thanked Steerforth for maintaining the decency of Salem School (though perhaps a little too violently), and concluded with Steerforth We shook hands, and we cheered three times—I don't know why, I assumed it was for Steerforth, but I was very sad.Mr. Crigulle beat Traddles, for instead of cheering, he wept; and then Mr. Crigulle went back to his sofa, or his bed, or whatever.

I felt like we were the only ones left in the classroom, and we were all overwhelmed.As for me, because I was the culprit of that incident, I feel very guilty and regretful.Had it not been for the fear that Steerforth would find it unfriendly—or disrespectful to him (given our age difference and my feelings for him)—I would have shown my distressed expression, but I managed to bear it. Stop crying.Steerforth was very angry with Traddles, and said he liked to be beaten.

Poor Traddles, comforting himself, as usual, with a mass of drawings of skulls; he said he didn't mind being beaten! But Mr. Meyer was bullied!

"Who has bullied him, you soft-hearted little fellow?" said Steerforth.

"Anyone else, you," said Traddles.

(End of this chapter)