David Copperfield

Chapter 49 Steerforth's House (1)
Chapter 20 Steerforth's House (1)
At eight o'clock, when the waitress knocked on my door and told me that the shaving cream was outside, I was deeply bored and blushed.When she told me, I suspect she laughed too.It annoyed me a great deal when I was getting dressed; and I also felt as though I'd look guilty when I went downstairs to breakfast and bumped into her.Indeed, I clearly feel that I am younger than I hoped, so sometimes I am troubled by this inferiority complex, and I dare not walk past her; seeing her there with a broom, I have been looking out the window The bronze statue of Charles V on horseback, surrounded by messy cabs, doesn't stand out at all in the misty drizzle and mist, I keep seeing the waiter tell me that there is a gentleman waiting I.

I found that Steerforth was not waiting for me in the coffee-room, but in a single room with red curtains and a Turkish rug, where the fire was blaring, and a steaming breakfast was served on a table covered with a clean tablecloth. .The little round mirror on the sideboard reflected the house, the fire, the breakfast, Steerforth, and everything about it in detail.I was a little shy at first, because Steerforth was so easy, so beautiful, and so elegant, and he surpassed me in everything (including age); but he took great care of me, and I soon became at ease. .Because of his presence, I admired how much the Golden Cross Hotel had changed, and I couldn't compare my boring and lonely state yesterday with the comfort of this morning.

As for the disdain that the waiter gave me, it has disappeared without a trace, as if it never happened.I may say, for example, that he was dressed in sackcloth, with ashes on his head. ] to serve us.

"Well, Copperfield," Steerforth asked me, when we were alone, "I want to know what you're going to do, where you're going, and about yourself. I'll see you Be a part of me."

I flushed with joy at finding that he still cared so much for me, and I told him how my aunt had proposed a short trip for me, and where.

"In that case," said Steerforth, "let's go to Hygate, and come and stay with me for a few days! You'll be sure to like my mother—she's a little complacent and nagging at me, but you'll forgive her— She will definitely like you too."

"I hope it's like what you said." I replied with a smile.

"Oh," said Steerforth, "whoever likes me, she likes, that's for sure."

"Then I'm bound to win her favor," I said.

"Yes," said Steerforth, "let's see, we'll have a tour of the town--it's fun to take a young man like yourself, Copperfield--and then we'll hitch a ride. To Hagette."

At that time, I thought I was dreaming, and I believed that when I woke up soon, I was still in No. 44, still sitting alone in the coffee room, and it was still the unwelcome waiter.I wrote to my aunt, telling her that I had been lucky enough to meet an old schoolmate whom I adored, and I took his advice.When it was finished we went out in a carriage, looked at some moving pictures, and a few other places, and had a look at the museum, where I could not fail to realize that Steerforth had a great knowledge on countless different subjects, and He doesn't seem to care about that.

"You're about to get a higher degree at the University, Steerforth," said I, "and if you don't get it you will get it, and they should be proud of you."

"I've got my degree," cried Steerforth, "and I won't! My dear Daisy—you don't mind my name being Daisy!"

"No!" I said.

"That's a good man, my dear Daisy!" laughed Steerforth. "I never tried to make a name for myself in that respect, for I've done a good deal for myself. I think, as now That's pedantic enough."

"But reputation—" I was about to say.

"You fancy daisy!" laughed Steerforth. "Why should I bother to make some stupid fellows look up? Let them flatter others. Fame is for those, and they are welcome to make it."

I feel ashamed to have made such a big mistake, so I want to change the subject.Happily it was easy, for Steerforth was a man who could pass from one subject to another with ease.

After the tour, we had lunch. The long nights and short days of winter passed so quickly, and it was already dusk when the post car drove us to an old brick house on the top of Hygate.When we got out of the car, an elderly woman greeted us with elegance and pomp and countenance.She stood at the door, called Steerforth "my dearest James," and took him in her arms.The woman introduced to me by Steerforth was his mother, and she received me with style.

The house was old in style, quiet and regular.From the bedroom where I live, I can see the whole of London, like a big cloud of water vapor floating in the distance, and the occasional sparse lights flicker through it.As I changed, I glanced at the solid, heavy furniture of the room, the embroidery in the picture frames (I guessed that Steerforth's mother must have embroidered it when the little girl was a child), and some of the hair and the whalebone bag Pastel figures of women in pink, flickering from the crackling and flickering light of the newborn fire, made them appear and disappear on the wall when the servant invited me to dinner.

There was a lady in the dining room, short in stature and dark in complexion, which seemed unpleasant but attractive.This woman caught my attention: perhaps because I was surprised to see her; perhaps because I sat opposite her; perhaps because there was something unusual about her.Her hair was black, her eyes were dark and piercing, and she was thin, with a scar on her lip.It was an old scar—more properly called a seam, since it had not changed color, but was long healed—and this scar must have been cut from the mouth down to the lower jaw, now across the table, except for the upper lip ( The appearance has changed a bit) and the upper part is almost invisible.I determined in my heart that she was about 30 years old and was determined to get married.She was like a house, in a state of disrepair, which had been rented out for too long; but, as I described it, there was something charming about it.Her thinness seemed to be caused by a consuming fire that arose within her and found vent in her terrible eyes.

She was Miss Dartle, known to Steerforth and his mother as Rosa, and Lady Steerforth's companion.I think she doesn't always say what she has to say, she always hints, and she seems to get her pleasure out of it.Mrs. Steerforth, for instance, said, more jokingly than seriously, that her son was leading a meaningless life at school, and Miss Dartle said:

"Is that so? How ignorant you are, I keep asking, is it always the case? I believe that life is treated as—?"

"A very serious vocational education, you might say, Rosa," replied Mrs. Steerforth, with some indifference.

"Oh! yes, that's quite true!" went on Miss Dartle, "but is it so?—if I'm wrong, I implore someone to correct me—is it really so?"

"What is it really?" said Mrs Steerforth.

"You mean it's not like that," said Miss Dartle. "Oh, I'm glad to hear that! I know what to do, and that's the good thing about asking. I'd never let anyone in my presence What a waste, absurd thing to say."

"You are right," said Mrs Steerforth, "my son's mentor was a man of honor. If I cannot absolutely trust my son, I should trust him."

"Yes?" said Miss Dartle. "Well, a man of honor, is he? A man of honor, really?"

"I'm absolutely convinced he's a man of honor," said Mrs Steerforth.

"That's very nice!" said Miss Dartle. "It's very reassuring. What a gentleman? Then he won't—of course he won't, if he's a gentleman. From now on I'll be very nice to him." Reward high hopes. You can't imagine, since I know he is a gentleman, I trust him so much!"

Her opinion on every question, every correction she proposes to every sentence she wants to refute, is expressed in the same way.Sometimes, I tried to hide it as much as possible, and pretended not to know if there was a conflict with Steerforth.Just before supper is over, there is such an incident as an illustration.Mrs Steerforth spoke of my intention of going to Suffolk, and I casually remarked how glad I would be if Steerforth would go with me; and I told him I was visiting my nurse, and Mr. Peggotty's family; Mr. Peggotty, I told him, was the boatman he had seen at school.

"Oh! that straightforward fellow!" said Steerforth. "His son came with him that time, didn't he?"

"No, his nephew," I replied, "but he treats him like a son, and he has a beautiful little niece, whom he also regards as a daughter. In short, his family (or not as good as Said his boat, because he lives in a boat, a boat on land) everyone accepts his love, you must want to know them."

(End of this chapter)