David Copperfield

Chapter 21: An Unforgettable Birthday (2)
Chapter 9 Unforgettable Birthday(2)
Now that the work was done, the two girls (whose names I never heard) brushed the lint and rags off their clothes, and went into the shop, where it was tidied up for customers.Minnie stayed behind and folded up what they had finished and put it in two baskets.She did so on her knees, humming a lilting tune.Yoram (her lover, no doubt) came in, kissed her secretly while she was busy (he didn't seem to care about me), and said her father was looking for a carriage, and he had to do it quickly Prepare.Then he went out again, and Minnie packed it up quickly, and got dressed.I saw her face full of spring breeze in the mirror.

This is what I observed while sitting at a table in the corner of the room, with my head on my hand, absent-minded.The carriage soon arrived in front of the shop.They put the basket in the car first, then they helped me into the car, and then they got into the car.I remember it was a half van, half van, painted a dismal black, drawn by black horses.We sat in the car and the place was spacious.

I remember how they acted, seeing them happily sitting in the car, I had a strange feeling that I had never felt before (maybe I am smarter now), I was not angry with them, I was just afraid They, as if I had been abandoned among animals with whom I had no nature in common.They are very happy.The old man was driving in the front, and the two young men were sitting in the back; whenever he talked with them, they leaned forward, one on the left side of his fat face, the other on the right side of his fat face, very close to each other. Listen attentively.They also wanted to talk to me, but I avoided it; I was so frightened by their teasing that I almost wondered why their hard-heartedness was not rewarded.

Thus, while they stopped to feed the horses, to eat, to drink, and to have fun, I remained motionless, maintaining my fast.So when we got home, I slipped out of the back of the carriage as quickly as I could, so as not to be with them at those quiet windows.Those windows used to be so bright, but now they stare blankly at me as if they had closed their eyes.Oh, to see my mother's window, and the window beside her (that was my bedroom in good times), I used to think what it was that made me sad when I came back, how unnecessary it was!

Before I could enter, I fell into Peggotty's arms, and she led me into the house.She wept as soon as she saw me; she soon ceased her grief, and walked softly, and spoke in low voices, as if she might disturb the dead.I found that she hadn't slept for many days, and she sat there all night with my mother.She said that as long as the poor, lovely person was buried, she would follow her forever.

Mr. Murdstone was in the drawing-room, paying no attention to me, but sitting before the fire, weeping silently, and thinking in his arm-chair.Miss Murdstone was busy at her desk.The table was full of letters and receipts.When she saw me, she stretched out her cold fingernails to me, and then asked me in a serious voice if I had measured the size of my clothes.

I said, "It's done."

"And your shirts," said Miss Murdstone, "have you brought them all?"

"Bring it back, miss."

That's all the questions her firmness gave me.Now I have no doubt that she must have enjoyed a chance of displaying to her heart's content all that she called firmness, self-control, and all the venomous things she called willpower, her common sense, and her ruthless temperament.She was very proud of her ability to get things done.She puts everything into words and is indifferent to anything.From then on, she always sat at the writing desk, wrote something calmly with a hard pen, and spoke to everyone with the same calm voice, never relaxing the muscles on her face or softening her tone of voice, Or mess up her clothes.

Her brother picked up a book sometimes, but as far as I could see, he never read a page.He opened the book, seemed to be reading it, but did not turn the pages for the whole hour, then put the book down again, and walked up and down the room.Hour after hour I sat there with my arms folded watching him and counting his steps.He rarely speaks to his sister, let alone me.Apart from the clock, he seemed to be the only restless thing in that dead house.

In the days leading up to the funeral I saw Peggotty very seldom, except when I went up and down the stairs I always saw her near the room where my mother and the baby lay; Head with me.A day or two before the burial--I think it was a day or two, because my mind was so confused during that time of grief, and nothing to make me notice the progress of the day--she took me to that house.I also remember that on a bed covered by a white cloth (the surroundings were fresh, fresh, and beautiful) lay the austere stillness of dwellings as if incarnated.When she was about to take off the veil, I yelled, "No, no!" and stopped her hand.

As if the funeral was yesterday, I vaguely remember the atmosphere when I walked into that best drawing room, the fire roaring in the stove, the wine glistening in the bottle and the pattern of cups and saucers, the dim sum. I remember the smell of Miss Murdstone and our clothes well.Mr. Qillpool was also in the room, and he came to talk to me.

"Master David, will you?" said Mr. Qilippe.

I just offered him my hand, and he held it tight.

"Why!" said Mr. Qillpool, smiling softly (something seemed to sparkle in his eyes), "the young man is grown up, and he looks so long that we don't know him, miss."

It was addressed to Miss Murdstone, but she did not answer.

"Isn't it better here than it was before, miss?" said Mr. Qillpool.

Miss Murdstone merely frowned, and nodded in answer.Mr. Qillip touched two nails, then walked into a corner, still holding my hand, and said no more.

I remember these things not because I care about myself, but because I remember everything that happened.

Now the bells started to ring, and Mr. Omer and another man came and told us to get ready.As Peggotty had told it many years ago, those who took my father's funeral were again getting ready in the same room.

Mr. Murdstone, our neighbour, Mr. Killipool, and myself were present at the funeral.When we got to the door, the coffin bearers were already in the garden carrying the coffin.They went ahead of us up the path, through the elm grove, past the gate, and into the churchyard--the cemetery where the birds are often heard on summer mornings.

We stand around the grave.I think that day seems to be different from any other day, and that day is also different from any other day, and it looks particularly bleak.Everyone is silent now, as if they were people resting under the mound.When we were standing with our heads bare, the priest said, "The Lord said, I am the resurrection and I am the life." That voice was particularly bright under the open air.I heard a sob; and saw that it was the good and faithful servant who sobbed.I loved her the most in the world, and my childish heart decided that one day God would say to her, "Well done."

Among that little group were faces I knew, some of them I had seen in church;I don't care about these faces, I care about my own sorrow--but I see them again, and I know them all; even at a distance, I see Minnie looking, and her lover looking at her .

It's over, we're going back.The house that stood before me was still beautiful, still connected with the dead in my mind, and all the sorrows were nothing compared to the sorrows it evoked.They lead me forward.Mr. Qillpool still talked to me; he gave me water when we got home; and he parted me kindly when I said I was going upstairs to my bedroom.

As I said, it seems like it happened yesterday.Many things that happened after that have drifted away from me to the other side of that unknown world, where all forgotten things will appear in the future, but this one towers like a high rock in the sea.

I understood that Peggotty was coming to my room.The Sabbath-like atmosphere of the day (it was so Sunday-like I forgot) suited us both very well.She sat on my bed; she took my hand, like a younger brother, and sometimes put it on her lips, touching it affectionately; she expressed everything that happened in her own unique way. come out.

"She was for a time," said Peggotty, "in a trance and unhappy. When the baby was born, she was supposed to get better, but she grew weaker and worse every day. After the baby was born Well, she always liked to sing to him—singing so softly that once I heard her sing, it seemed to me that it was disappearing in the air.

"Lately, she has become more timid, more frightened. To her, a harsh word is like a slap. But she is always the same to me. In my stupid and stupid To Peggotty she is still the same, and she will always be a lovely girl."

Here Peggotty stopped, and patted my hand for a moment.

"The last time I saw her the same as ever was the night you came home from school. When you went back, she said to me: 'I'll never see my sweet baby again, I know it's like that, I know , it must be so.'

"She's struggled since then. Whenever they say she's thoughtless and carefree, she's just pretending it's okay. But that's all in the past. She'll never tell her husband what she told me She didn't dare to say a word in front of others - until a week before she died, she said to him: 'My dear, I think I can't do it.'

"'I feel better now, Peggotty.' She said to me that night, as I put her to bed, 'he will come to believe, poor fellow, that what I say is true. If this It's sleep, so sit next to me while I'm sleeping and don't go away. God bless my two kids! God bless my dadless boy!'

"I have been at her service ever since," said Peggotty, "and she often talked to those two downstairs—for she loved them, and she, as a person, could not help loving those around her—but when She was always looking for me when they went away from her bed, as if there was peace only where Peggotty was; otherwise sleep was impossible.

"On the last night she kissed me and said to me: 'If my babies die too, Peggotty, please tell them to take my little ones in my arms and bury us together ! (I did as she said; for the poor little child outlived his mother by only a day) Let my dearest child accompany us to our resting place!' said she, 'and Tell him that his mother lies here blessing him forever, not once, but a thousand times.'”

Then there was silence again, and Peggotty patted my hand lightly again.

"Towards the end of the night," said Peggotty, "she asked me for something to drink; and when she had drunk, she smiled at me, and what a pretty smile!

"Then when the day came and the sun came up, he said how tender and considerate Mr. Copperfield had been to her, how he tolerated her, and when she had doubts, he told her that a loving heart is better than wisdom , stronger, and he was a happy man in her heart. 'Peggotty, my dear,' she said, 'let me draw nearer to you, (for she is weaker.) Put your arm on me under my neck,' she said, 'Let me get close to you, for your face seems to be getting farther and farther away from me, and I want to get closer to you.' I did as she was told. Oh, David, I parted with you for the first time When her words were proved—she would lay her poor head in the arms of her stupid, ill-tempered Peggotty—she went away like a sleeping child."

From the moment I learned of my mother's death, the passage in which Peggotty summed up her life has faded from my mind.From then on, I only remember her as the young mother in my earliest memories, who often twisted her shiny hair around her fingers and danced with me in the living room at dusk. .What Peggotty said to me did not bring me back to that period of her later life, but it made my earlier impressions more deeply imprinted on my mind.This may be strange, but it is true.She dies and goes back to her peaceful, carefree youth, all gone.

The resting mother is the mother I was when I was a child, and the child in her arms is myself.

(End of this chapter)