David Copperfield

Chapter 5 Gradually Understand Personnel (3)
Chapter 2 Gradually understand personnel (3)
Mr. Murdstone and I rode off in a moment, and trotted down the green pastures beside the road.Mr. Murdstone put his arm around me easily, and I knew I was not very active, but I sat in front of him and turned my head from time to time to look into his face.He had shallow dark eyes--for lack of a better word for eyes that were not very deep--and when in ecstasy, every squint appeared distorted, perhaps by the peculiar light.I peeked at him several times, but every time I was very scared. I didn't know what he was thinking so intently.His hair and beard were much darker than I had thought at this close.The lower part of his face is square, and the bruises of his rough black beard, which he shaved off every day, reminded me of the wax figure that came to our village for exhibition about half a year ago.This, combined with his neat eyebrows, his moist white skin--such a moist white, black, brown; his white skin, I hate it when I think about it!--all this made me suspicious of him, but also felt He is very handsome.I think my poor sweet mother thought he was handsome too.

We came to a hotel by the sea where two men were smoking cigars in one room.They were reclining on chairs, occupying at least four chairs each, all dressed in rough jackets.In one corner was a pile of coats, and a flag, tied together.

As soon as we were inside, they both rolled lazily out of their chairs, and said, "Hey, Mordstone! We thought you were in heaven!"

"Not yet," said Murdstone.

"Who is this little guy?" one of them asked, pointing at me.

"This is David," replied Mordstone.

"What's your last name?" asked the man. "Jones?"

"Copperfield," said Murdstone.

"What, is that charming Mrs. Copperfield's child?" cried the man, "that pretty little widow?"

"Quinine," said Murdstone, "be careful what you say, for some people have sharp ears."

"Who?" the man asked with a smile.

I looked up, wondering who it was.

"It's just Brooks of Sheffield," said Mr. Murdstone.

I was relieved; because I thought they were talking about me.

There seemed to be something a little funny about Brooks of Sheffield, for at the mention of him the two laughed together, and Mr. Murdstone was delighted.After they had laughed for a while, the man called Quinine said:

"What's the attitude of Brooks of Schiffer regarding this planned business deal?"

"Well, I don't think Brooks of Sheffield knows much about the matter," replied Mr. Murdstone, "but I don't think he at least approves of it."

Here they laughed again, and Mr. Quinn was to ring for some wine to bless Brooks.When the wine came, he told me to have a little drink and a biscuit, but before I could drink it, he made me stand up and say, "Down with Brooks of Sheffield!" They laughed.When I smiled, they laughed even more, and generally speaking, we were very happy at the time.

After drinking, we went for a walk on the sea cliffs, sat on the grass, and looked into the distance through the binoculars--when they showed me the binoculars, I saw nothing, but I pretended to see--and then We went back to the hotel and went to have an early dinner [Note: Dinner is the most important meal of the day, and it is eaten at noon and dinner. ] The two had been smoking while we were walking together—I think they must have been smoking continuously since the time their two rough coats were brought home from the tailor, as the smell of the coats showed. Totally determined.Another point, the three of them got on the yacht and went down to the cabin, busy with some paperwork.When I looked down through the open skylight, I saw them working like hell.At this time they entrusted me to a very gentle man.The man was a large, red-haired man with a shiny cap on his head; he wore a denim shirt or waistcoat with the word "Skylark" in large letters on the chest.I thought it was his name at the time; as he lived on a boat, and had no street gate, and couldn't find a place to hang his name, so he put it there; but he explained that it was his boat's name.

After a whole day of observation, I decided that Murdstone was more serious and sedate than those two.Both of them were giggling.They banged and joked with each other, but they didn't often joke with Mr. Murdstone.I thought he seemed smarter and calmer than them; they seemed to feel the same way as I did.Once or twice, I saw Mr. Quining cast his eyes at Mr. Murdstone as he spoke, as if he were afraid he would be displeased; Wink him, and call his attention to Mr. Murdstone.I don't remember Mr. Murdstone laughing that day, except at the Schiffer joke--but it was his own joke, after all.

We got home before dark.The evening was fine, and my mother and he walked again by the rose hedge, while I was called to tea.When he was gone, my mother asked me about the day, what they said and did.I told her what they had said, and she laughed and said they were bullshit--but I knew she was glad to hear it.I knew it then, as I know it now.I cut in and asked her if she knew Mr. Brooks of Sheffield, but she said she didn't, but she said he was a knife and fork maker. [Note: Xifeier is famous for its production of knives and forks. 】

Although, at this very moment, her face was clearly before me, how could I say that her face—although I remembered it changed, though it was no longer alive—had ceased to exist? She Shall I say that her beauty withered, when the lively fresh breath of that day came upon my cheeks, as it was that night? Since my memory revived her (as just said), since my memory How can I say she has changed when youth is more alive than youth that I, or anyone, has always cherished, and all that it represents is always in my memory?

I faithfully recorded the original scene. I went to bed after talking with her, and she said good night before going to bed.She knelt by the bed jokingly, resting her chin on her hands,

"What did they say, David? Say it again."

"Charming—" I began.

My mother tightly covered my mouth with both hands, not letting me speak.

"Certainly they don't say 'glamorous,'" she said with a laugh. "Certainly they don't say 'glamorous,' David. I know, that's not what they say."

"Yes, that's what it says, 'Charming Mrs. Copperfield,'" I said with absolute certainty, "and they say 'beautiful,' too."

"No, no, it must not be 'beautiful'." My mother put her finger on my lips again to keep me from saying it.

"That's what it says, 'Pretty little widow.'"

"These shameless fellows!" my mother cried, laughing and covering her face with her hands, "what a joke! Don't you, Wei—"

"Well, Mom."

"Don't tell Peggotty, she'll be offended. I'm offended myself, and I hope Peggotty doesn't know."

Of course I said yes, and we kissed and kissed, and I fell asleep in no time.

The next thing I want to say is the amazing advice that Peggotty made to me.That was about two months after the day after my conversation with my mother.But even after all these years, it feels like it just happened.

It was one evening and we were sitting together, as usual, with socks, yardsticks, wax heads, a sewing box with St. Paul's Church painted on it, and a book of crocodiles (my mother was away again at the neighbor's house).Then Peggotty looked and looked at me, opened her mouth to say something, but said nothing—I thought she was yawning, or I would have been surprised—and then she coaxed me to say: :

"Master Wei, I'll take you to Yarmouth to stay at my brother's house for two weeks, do you think it's okay?"

"Is he funny, Peggotty?" I said casually, having nothing to say.

"Oh, he's a very interesting fellow," cried Peggotty, throwing up his hands. "There's the sea, and the boats and boats, and the fishers, and the beach, and Eminem to play with you— —”

Peggotty was referring to her nephew Ham, whose name became part of the grammar in her mouth. [Note: Am should have been Ham, and uneducated people in the UK often cannot pronounce the H sound.The original text is Am fo play, which seems to be part of English law. 】

I'm glad to hear that.So I said, "That would be fun. But what would my mother say?"

"I'll bet a guinea she'll let us go," said Peggotty, staring into my face. "I'll ask her as soon as she comes back, if you like."

"But after we leave, how will she live alone! What can she do?" I put my elbows on the table and asked her worriedly.

If Peggotty was still going to find another small hole in the heel of the sock, it must be too small and too small to be worth mending.

"I say, Peggotty! She'll live alone, you know."

"No" I said.

"Oh, dear!" said Peggotty, looking at me again at last, "you don't know she's going to Mrs. Grapple's for a fortnight. Mrs. Grapple's going to have a lot of company."

Oh, if that's the case, then I'll just walk away.I waited anxiously for my mother to return from Mrs. Grable's (that is, the neighbourhood) to decide whether or not our grand plan was feasible.Unexpectedly, my mother readily agreed; and got everything ready that night.I will pay for my room and board during the trip.

The day we go out is coming soon.I was eagerly looking forward to that day.But even so, I feel that day is coming too soon.We're going to take a bike ride after breakfast.I don't mind how much it costs as long as I don't take off my clothes when I go to bed, and wear a hat and shoes.

Looking back now, I was so eager to leave my happy home, why I never thought that I would leave forever; although I describe it casually now, I am actually very sad in my heart.

I like to remember: when the bicycle stopped at the gate, my mother stood there and kissed me, a kind of longing for my mother and for the old place made me cry; I cried and my mother cried .I felt her heart beating against mine.

And what makes me happy is that when the car started to move, my mother ran out of the gate and asked the porter to stop the car so she could kiss me again. I like the sincerity and love she showed when she raised her face and kissed me. .

She was still standing by the roadside alone after I started, and Mr Murdstone then came up to her, as if to persuade her not to be so distressed.I leaned over the hood and looked back, wondering what this had to do with him.Peggotty, who was looking back from the other side, seemed very dissatisfied, which could be seen from the expression on her face when she got back into the car.

I sat there, looked at Peggotty, and thought to myself: If she was ordered to abandon me like a child in a fairy tale, would I be able to follow the button she dropped and go home?
(End of this chapter)