David Copperfield

Chapter 32 After the decision (3)
Chapter 13 After Resolution(3)
"In that case," replied my aunt, with much softening, "how can you pretend to be dumb when you are as sharp as a surgeon's needle? Now, David Copperfield is here, and I am sorry for you." The question that was raised was, what do I do with him?"

"What do you do with him?" said Mr. Dick timidly, scratching his head. "Oh, what do you do with him?"

"Yes," said my aunt, holding up her forefinger with solemn air, "tell me! I want a proper proposal."

"Well, if it were me," said Mr. Dick, looking at me thoughtfully and blankly, "I must—" he looked at me, and added suddenly and unexpectedly, "clean him up."

"Jenny," said my aunt, turning with a quiet sense of triumph (which I didn't understand at the time), "Mr. Dick has made a good suggestion for us. Boil water for a bath!"

Fascinating as this conversation was, I could not help looking at my aunt, Mr. Dick, and Jenny while they were talking, while completing my last observations of the house.

My aunt was a tall, stern-faced woman, but not ugly.There was a fortitude in her voice, in her gait and in her movements, that attested to the intimidation she had for such a soft being as my mother.Her features, though resolute and serious, were handsome.I particularly noticed her moving and bright eyes, her gray hair, beneath what I thought to be a turban (a sort of cap, more fashionable then than now, with chinstraps on either side), Divide into two simple parts.Her dress was light purple, very neat, but small in size, as if she wanted to be as light as possible.In my memory, her clothes are especially like a riding suit with the extra hem cut off.On her side she wears a gold watch with matching chain and pendant, which I presume from the size and shape of the watch is for a man; she has a collar at her neck roughly like a shirt collar and small shirts at her wrists Something like a cuff.

Mr. Dick, as I have said, is white-haired, red-faced, and hale.In addition to what has been said, he always had a strange drooping head, which was not due to age, but reminded me of being beaten at Salem School--his gray eyes were large and protruding, and there was a strange quality in them. The watery light, and the trance-like attitude.His obedience to my aunt, and his childlike delight when she boasted about him, made me suspect some dementia in him; To my aunt he was dressed like any other common gentleman, a baggy gray coat, white trousers; watch in his trouser pocket, money in his pocket, as if he always made a rattle of money , quite proud of it.

Jenny was a good-looking girl, about nineteen or twenty years old.Although I did not observe her further at the time, I can summarize what I later found out. She was one of the many apprentices of my aunt who taught them to avoid men, and most of them married bakers. , to show their education to alienate men.

That room was as tidy as Jenny's or my aunt's.I feel the sea breeze with the fragrance of flowers blowing in.I saw again the polished old furniture, my aunt's sacrosanct chair and table near the green fan in the bow window, the rough rug, the cat, the little potholder, the two canaries , that ancient china, that wine bowl full of dried rose petals, and the high cabinet full of all kinds of utensils, and my own incongruity with everything, lying on the sofa watching everything, covered in dust and dirt.

Jenny had already gone to prepare the bath water. At this time, I was extremely frightened, and my aunt suddenly became furious, trembling with anger, and could hardly yell: "Jenny, donkey!"

As soon as she heard this, as if the house was on fire, Jenny ran down the stairs in a hurry, rushed to the grass in front, and drove away the two female donkeys who dared to approach the grass; my aunt did the same. rushed out, seized the bridle of the donkey (which carried a child straddling it), pulled it back, led it out of the sacred place, and slapped the urchin for having the audacity to desecrate the sacred place Area.

To this day, I still don't understand whether my aunt has legal privileges over that green space, but she's pretty sure of that privilege in her own mind, so it doesn't make any difference.All her life she felt that the behavior that required constant punishment was the donkey trampling the clean green.No matter what she was doing, no matter how interesting a conversation she was having, a donkey would immediately affect her and she would keep jumping on it.She kept filled bottles and watering cans in hidden places, and ambushed sticks behind doors to punish offending children; there was always the possibility of conflict, and the war went on without interruption.For the children driving the donkeys, this was an interesting stimulus; the wiser donkeys seemed to understand this situation, and with their natural stubbornness, they chose to walk on the green field.I was well aware that there were three conflicts before the bathwater was ready.The last and worst I saw my great-aunt fight a 15-year-old red-haired boy, and before he seemed to understand, my great-aunt grabbed his brown-haired head and slammed it against her own door .These are really funny because she was giving me soup by the spoonful (I'm very hungry, I believe. Had to feed spoonfuls at first), but when I opened my mouth and waited for the spoon, she suddenly Put the spoon back into the basin, shouted: "Jenny, donkey!" and ran out again.

It is really comfortable to take a shower.Because I started to feel the pain in my limbs from sleeping in the fields for a long time, and I was so tired at that time, I couldn't even keep my eyes open for 5 minutes straight.After the bath, Jenny and Auntie put me in Mr. Dick's shirt and trousers, and tied me up with two or three shawls.I don't know what they pierced me with, but I felt a hot mass.I was so weak and exhausted that I fell on the sofa and soon fell asleep.

In my dreams, I often imagined my aunt caressing me, so that when I woke up, I still had the impression that my aunt approached me, leaned down, pushed my hair back, and put my head further. Get comfortable, then stand there and look at me.I still seem to hear the words "lovely person" or "poor person" in my ears.But when I woke up, nothing convinced me that those words came from my aunt, because she was sitting in the bow window looking at the sea from behind the green fan spinning freely on its pivot.

As soon as I woke up, we ate roast chicken and pudding.I sat upright at the table, rather like a bound bird, moving my arms with great difficulty.Since it was my aunt who tied me up like this, I can't complain about the inconvenience.I want to know how my aunt will arrange for me.But when she was eating, she didn't say anything, but sometimes she stared at me (I sat opposite her) and said "My God", but this sentence couldn't relieve my panic.

When dinner was over, a wine was placed on the table (I had a glass too), and my aunt sent for Mr. Dick to stay with us.When my aunt asked him to listen carefully to my story, he tried to appear sensible and sensible.My aunt used many words to pull out my story one by one.While I narrated, she kept looking at Mr. Dick, who otherwise would have fallen asleep.

"What on earth is it that makes my poor, unfortunate, suckling child have to remarry?" said my aunt when I had finished, "I really don't understand."

"Perhaps she's in love with him," said Mr. Dick.

"In love!" repeated the aunt. "What does that mean? Why does she do it?"

"Perhaps," said Mr. Dick, thinking for a moment and forcing a smile, "for her pleasure."

"Pleasure! Yes!" replied the aunt, "that 'poor child' takes an astonishing pleasure in obsessing over the bastard who is bound to mistreat her so-and-so. How does she explain to herself , I'd like to know. She had a baby—oh, that Friday night, when she gave birth to this baby sitting here—what could she be dissatisfied with?"

Mr. Dick shook his head secretly at me, as if my aunt would go on forever.

"My children are not like other people's," said my great-aunt. "Where is this boy's older sister, Bessie? Trowood? Unborn? Say no more!"

Mr. Dick seemed surprised.

"That little doctor with his head hanging on one side," my aunt said, "Qilip? Whatever his name, what can he do? He can only say to us like a robin, 'It's a boy,' a Boy! Yes, they're all dumbass!"

This sudden scream surprised both Mr. Dick and I, if I tell the truth.

"As if that weren't enough, how much she has done to this boy's sister Bessie Trowood," said my aunt, "she married a second time—to a murderer—or named like a murderer the child—and thus ruined the child! Anyone but the suckling child could have known in advance that the inevitable result would be that he wandered about, and the child was a wretched child!"

Mr. Dick looked at me hard, as if to confirm that I was such a character.

"Later, there was that woman named 'Heretic,'" my aunt said, "and that Peggotty got married too. Because she didn't understand the misfortune of being married, she got married along with her." .I just hope," said my aunt, shaking her head, "that her husband is one of those devilish husbands you see in the papers, who beat her so hard with an iron bar."

I can't bear to hear my old nurse being vilified like that.I told my aunt that she had actually misunderstood.Peggotty was the best, most reliable, most faithful, most devoted, most unselfish friend and servant in the world; she always loved me; she always loved my mother very much; she held me when my mother was dying Mother's head, my mother gave her one last grateful kiss on the face.As I spoke, I could not help crying when I recalled my mother and Peggotty.I want to say that her home is like my home, everything about her is mine.If I hadn't been afraid of inconveniencing her, I would have settled down with her—when I wanted to say this, as I said, I burst into tears and buried my face in my hands on the table .

"Come on!" said my aunt. "The boy is very fond of those who protect him, yes.—Jenny! Donkey!"

I am sure that my aunt and I would have gained mutual understanding if it hadn't been for those unfortunate donkeys, for my aunt once put her hand on my shoulder, and in that gesture I was already inclined to hug her, beg Protect.But this interlude and the struggle outside the door prevented my aunt from being gentle. On the contrary, my aunt yelled at Mr. Dick angrily, determined to use the laws of the country to punish all the crimes of the donkey industry. So when it comes to tea time.

After tea, we sat by the window—judging from the stern look on my aunt's face, we were always on guard against the invaders again—sat until dusk, and Jenny put the candles and Shuanglu plates on the table. On the table, draw the curtain blinds.

"Mr. Dick," my aunt raised her index finger and said with her usual solemn expression, "then I want to ask you a question. What should I do with this child?"

"David's boy?" said Mr. Yoke intently and inexplicably.

"Exactly," said my aunt. "What are you going to do with him now?"

"What about David's boy?" said Mr. Dick.

"Yes," said my aunt, "to deal with David's son."

"Oh!" said Mr. Dick, "yes, dispose—I should take him to bed."

"Jenny!" cried my aunt, with the same contented triumph I have mentioned before, "Mr. Dick gave us all directions. If the bed is ready, we will put him to bed. "

I was taken to rest when Jenny reported that the bed was ready.They led me in a friendly manner, but a little bit like a prisoner: my aunt went in front and Jenny followed.The only thing that gave me hope was that my aunt stopped on the stairs to ask about the strong smell of cigarettes that permeated there.Jenny replied that she had started a fire in the kitchen with my old shirt.However, I have no clothes in my bedroom other than the ridiculous pile of stuff I wear.They left me a small candle, and my aunt warned me that it was only lit for 5 minutes. When I recalled this incident, I felt that my aunt didn't believe me at all, and suspected that I had the habit of running away, so I took precautions , locked me in the house and sealed it off.

It was a fine little cottage, on the top floor of the house, overlooking the sea, where the moon shone brightly.I remember, after I finished praying and the candles were burnt out, I still sat there, watching the moonlight on the water, sometimes I even felt that the moonlight on the water was like a book from which I could read my destiny; Looking at her child, came from heaven along that moonlit road, and looked at me as the last time I saw her loving face.I remember, how I turned my face away, and transferred the solemn feeling to gratitude for the soft and warm bed! I remember, how I remembered all the desolate places where I slept under the night sky, how I Pray never to be homeless and always remember the homeless.I remember how I followed the dim light of that path over the sea afterward, and fell asleep.

(End of this chapter)