David Copperfield

Chapter 48
Chapter 19 The Bystander (3)
The gentleman he was referring to had squinting eyes, a broad chin, a tall white hat with a narrow, flat brim, and a pair of dark beige trousers, tight as if from All the buttons from the heel to the thigh did their job.His chin jutted out over the coachman's shoulder, and the closeness made the back of my head itch with his breath.I looked back at him, and he was squinting at the harnessed horse with his eyes so that his eyes didn't seem to be squinting.

"Are you?" William said.

"What am I?" said the gentleman behind him.

"Ever bred Suffolk Penzies in groups?"

"It should be said," said the gentleman, "that I have kept every horse that can be called a name, and dogs, too. Some people just love horses and dogs. To me, horses and dogs are clothes and food. , is my home, wife, and children—all that I read, write, and count—all that is my snuff, my bag of food, and my sleep.”

"A man like that, you see him sitting in the back of the carriage, okay?" William whispered to me as he straightened the reins.

When he said this, he obviously hoped that I would give up my seat to that gentleman. I blushed and said that I would rather give up my seat to him.

"Well, if you don't mind, sir," said William, "I personally think that's more reasonable."

I will always consider this the first setback in my life.When I reserved a seat at the stagecoach office, I made a point of putting the words "carriage seat" next to my name, and paid the accountant half a crown for it.I put on my coat and shawl and sat in the car, wishing only that I could match the eminent position.I thought that I had added a lot of glory to the car, but before I finished a stop, I was pushed to the back by another person.Moreover, that man still has squinting eyes, disheveled clothes, and only the smell of a stable; at the same time, he also has the ability to crawl over me when the horse is trotting, as if he is not a human being, but Like flies.

In all my life I have always been needlessly discouraged on occasions of little importance; Discouragement did not stop growing.I tried to hide my discouragement by speaking in a brusque manner, but it didn't work.For the rest of the way, everyone talked hard, but I still felt that I was out of their sight, and I still felt that I was terribly childish.

Even so, sitting high behind the four big horses, well-educated, well-dressed, and full of money, I still find it interesting to look at the places where I used to sleep everywhere during the journey.From the car, I looked down at the vagrants we met, and looked up at us, as if the blackened hands of the tinker were grabbing my chest again.As our car was passing through Chatham Narrow Road, I saw the little street where the weird guy who bought my jacket lived.

At that time, I stretched my neck from morning to night, waiting to get my money.Later, when we were only one stop from London, passing Salem School, the Salem School in which Mr. Krigul used to make a fuss, I was tempted to get out of the car and give him a good meal. Eat the fruit and free all innocent schoolchildren.

We came to the "Golden Cross" hotel in Charles Cross, which was located in a densely populated area, but it was deserted, and the tables and chairs were almost moldy.A waiter led me to the coffee room, and another waiter then led me into a small room that smelled like a stable, was stagnant, and seemed like a tomb.I still realize that I am young and cannot be respected by others; the waitress ignores my opinions and only makes her own decisions for me.

"I said, hello," said the waiter, with a considerate tone, "what would you like for dinner? Young gentlemen generally like to eat chicken and duck. How about a chicken?"

I told him openly that I don't like to eat those.

"Don't like it?" said the waiter. "Young gentlemen, you are probably tired of eating beef and mutton, or you can have a plate of fried veal!"

Since I couldn't name any other dish, I had no choice but to follow suit.

"Do you like potatoes?" The waiter tilted his head slightly, smiling ironically, "Young gentlemen, of course you don't like potatoes."

In my most mature voice, I ordered him a plate of fried veal with potatoes, and the required ingredients.Tell him at the same time to ask in the bar if there is any letter from Lord Trowood Copperfield--I know very well that there is no letter from me.In fact, it is impossible. I just think that the look of expecting a letter should be unique to a man.

He returned in a short time, told me that there was no letter from me, and at the same time prepared dinner for me in a booth by the fire.As he spread the tablecloth, he asked me what I was drinking and I said I would like a half pint of wine.At this moment, he had a way to pour the remaining old wine from several wine bottles together, making up half a pint.I have a basis for this. He put the leftovers from several bottles into one bottle, just like a pharmacist dispensing medicine.When the wine arrived, I found no froth in it, but some English bread crumbs—this is by no means a clean foreign wine.But I was ashamed to argue with others, so I drank the wine silently.

I'm in a good mood now (I have a conclusion that people may feel very happy at a certain stage after being poisoned), so I want to go to a play.I sat in a box in the middle of the Covent Garden and saw "Julieus Caesar" and a new pantomime.Now, these noble-born Romans are no longer the strict supervisors of my studies, but the figures for entertainment in front of me. This change of role makes me feel fresh and happy.However, the performances, lines, lighting, music, audiences, and dazzlingly brilliant scenes in the play that blend fact and fiction frequently change.When I came from the theater to the street in the middle of the night when it was drizzling, I felt that I had returned to the mortal world from a fairyland in a dream. feel annoyed.

I stayed on the road for a while again, as if I really fell into the mortal world, but people bumped into me unceremoniously, which made me understand and walked towards the hotel.Along the way, I thought about the magnificent scene just like a dream.After arriving at the hotel, I drank some dark beer and ate some oyster yellow. It was past one o'clock, and I was still sitting in the coffee room, staring at the fire, thinking about the scene just now.

My head is full of stories in the play, and the past always comes to my mind—because the play seems to be a transparent shadow behind the scenes, and I think of my childhood. Time flies, and I can’t help but lament that things are different—— I didn't notice when a person—a young man with a handsome face and a well-proportioned figure, dressed in a suave manner—this person should be very familiar to me—appeared clearly in front of me.I still remember feeling him come into my bedroom and not knowing when—I sat by the fire in the coffee room, still thinking.

I finally got up and got ready to go to sleep.The waiter breathed a sigh of relief, he was already sleepy.Just after he came out of the food storage room, his legs were tired and stiff, so he kept bending and stretching, beating his legs.When I walked towards the door of the room, I suddenly saw the person who had already entered.When I woke up, I turned around and looked at him again.Although he didn't recognize me, I already knew who he was.

At any other time, I'm afraid I'd be afraid of being abrupt, or I don't know whether I should talk to him or not.Maybe it will pass him by.However, because the plot was still ups and downs in my heart at that time, that person's care for me in the past also made me want to thank him extraordinarily.Yuhi's admiration for him welled up in my heart, and I couldn't help but immediately walked up to him, and said with a beating heart:

"Steerforth! Don't you recognize me?"

He looked at me - the way he used to look at people - but he didn't seem to recognize me.

"I'm afraid you have forgotten me," I said.

"God!" He suddenly came to his senses, "You're little Copperfield!"

I held his hands tightly and refused to let go.Because of embarrassment and fear that he would be unhappy, I would definitely hug him and cry bitterly.

"I've never, never, never been happier! I'm so excited to meet you!"

"Me too!" he said, shaking my hands affectionately. "Now, Copperfield, you're a grown boy, don't be too sentimental!" If I'm so happy, he should be too.

I made the greatest determination, but I couldn't stop the tears of joy. After I wiped away the tears, I stopped crying, and the two of us sat side by side.

"Well, how did you come here?" said Steerforth.

"I came here by the Canterbury coach. I was adopted by an aunt who lived there and finished college. Why are you here, Steerforth?"

"Tell you, I'm what they call an Oxfordman," he answered, "and I'm sick of being there.—I'm going to my mother's now. You're a lovely little chap, Cole." Bofill. Now I see you exactly as you used to be!"

"I've known it from the beginning," I said. "Of course it's easy to remember you."

He laughed and stroked his curly hair, and said happily, "Yes. I'm doing my son's duty. My mother lives not far from the town. I should have driven home, but the road was not good." , I was bored at home, so I didn't go any further, and settled here. I've been in London for less than six hours, and I've just dozed off in the theater, complaining, and gone."

"I went too," said I, "at Covent Garden. Don't you think it's a delightful and brilliant play, Steerforth!"

Steerforth smiled smugly.

"My sweet little David," he said, "you are such a golden daisy, no daisy is tenderer than you when it is just born in the field at sunrise! That's a more ridiculous scene. Hey, man!"

He was calling to the waiter, who had already noticed our meeting from a distance, and now came over respectfully.

"Where did you put my friend?" said Steerforth.

"sorry sir."

"Where is he? What room? You see what I mean," asked Steerforth.

"Understood, sir." The waiter said in an apologetic tone, "He lives in Room 44, sir."

"You put Mr. Copperfield in that place above the stable," said Steerforth, "for what purpose?"

"Well, we don't understand, sir," said the waiter, in a more apologetic tone, "because Mr. Copperfield doesn't care much about rooms. We can put Mr. Copperfield in room 72, sir. If you like." If so, we will move, No. 72 is next door to you, sir."

"I am very satisfied," said Steerforth. "Arrange it quickly."

The waiter immediately withdrew and moved my things.Steerforth laughed again, and patted me on the shoulder, and asked me to dine with him at ten o'clock to-morrow morning, which was my wish. thing.It was late at night, we went upstairs with our respective candles, and after saying goodbye to him affectionately in front of his door, I went into the newly moved bedroom and found it was much better than the old one, and there was no sign of mildew at all. There is a large four poster bed.Almost a large piece of territory.On this pillow for six people, I soon fell asleep in a happy mood, dreaming of ancient Rome, Steerforth, until the early morning coach passed below, I dreamed of thunder and the gods , be regarded as giving up.

(End of this chapter)