David Copperfield

Chapter 62 Auspicious God and Fierce God (2)
Chapter 25 Lucky Gods and Bad Gods (2)
But now that she saw little by little that I was sober, and that I was still a modest and prudent young man, her attitude towards me softened greatly. First, she asked me if I often went to the park and if I had a lot of social life.When I answered both of these questions, she became more lenient with me.But she graciously concealed the fact and invited me to her house for dinner the next day.I agreed and said goodbye.After going out, I went to the office to visit Yulia, but he was not there, so I left a business card.

When I went to dinner the next day, because the street door was open, I just felt thrown into a steam bath of mutton, when I saw other guests.For at once I recognized the disguised porter, who was helping the servants of the family, and announced my name at the bottom of the stairs.When he asked my name in a low voice, he pretended not to know me, but I knew him clearly, and he knew me clearly.Conscience makes us all timid.

I saw Mr. Waterbrook a middle-aged man with a short neck and a wide stiff collar.He said he was delighted to know me; and after I had greeted Mr and Mrs Waterbrook, he introduced me respectfully to a very startling lady in a black velvet dress and big black velvet hat.I remember her looking like some kind of Hamlet's relative—her aunt, for instance.

The lady was Mrs. Henry Spike, and her husband was there, too, and he was very indifferent.His head is not white, but it seems to be covered with a layer of frost.The Henry Spike family, both male and female, were well respected.According to Agnes, it was because Mr. Henry Spike was a lawyer for some institution, or person (I don't know which) which had any connection with the Treasury Department.

Among the guests I found Julia Heep, dressed in black, with a very humble look.When I shook his hand, he said he was proud of my favour, and that he was very grateful that I condescended to be acquainted with him.I wish he thanked me less, because all evening, because of that, he was hanging around me; whenever I said a word to Agnes, he would use his undisguised eyes and pale face. Watching us fiercely from behind us.

There were other guests, one of whom attracted my attention before entering, for I heard his name announced by the servant as Mr. Traddles.I saw at last that, if my vision hadn't deceived me, he was the same unhappy Tom of old.

I went up to Mr. Waterbrook and said I thought I saw an old schoolmate there.

"Really!" said Mr. Waterbrook, startled. "Are you too young to have gone to school with Mr. Henry Spike?"

"I mean Mr. Traddles."

"Oh, oh, really!" My host lost a lot of interest, "Maybe."

"If it's the same guy," I said, looking at him, "we went to school together at a place called Salem School, and he's a very nice guy."

"Oh, yes. Traddles," said my host, nodding his head with reluctant condescension, "Traddles is a good fellow."

"What a coincidence," I said.

"Yes," continued my host, "Traddles did not intend to come; as Mrs. Henry Spike's brother was ill and could not come, and there was a seat vacant, Traddles were invited. Henry Mrs. Spike's brother is a very handsome man, Mr. Copperfield."

Because I didn't know this person at all, I just responded casually.I asked Traddles what he was doing.

"Traddles," replied Mr. Waterbrook, "is a young law student, and yes, he's a good fellow—no one is against him but himself."

"Is he against himself?" I asked melancholy.

"Ah," said Mr. Waterbrook, curling his lips in a sort of smug expression, playing with his watch-chain, "I think he's a man of inferiority. Yes, it may be said that he was never worth five hundred pounds. A A colleague recommended Traddles to me. Oh, yes, yes. He has a talent for drafting pleadings, and writing a case clearly with pen. I can give him a little of his work and a little of it in a year. Things—for him—are valuable. Oh, yes, yes."

Mr. Waterbrook made a deep impression on me from time to time when he uttered the very common word "yes" with the utmost satisfaction and satisfaction.He said these two words with a very wonderful expression. These two words fully express a person's origin.This man must have been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and stepped on a ladder, and actually climbed step by step through the various stages of life. At this time, he was on the top of the fortress, looking at the people in the trench with the attitude of a philosopher or patron. .

I continued to think about this question till, when dinner was announced, Mr. Waterbrook went downstairs on the arm of Hamlet's aunt.Agnes was supposed to be accompanied by me, but was preempted by a stupid guy who couldn't stand still.Yulia, Traddles and I were young men, so we had to stay back.It was all right that I could not accompany Agnes, since I would have had the opportunity of meeting Traddles.He greeted me with great joy; Yulia turned around with forced joyful humility, and I wished I could throw him over the railing.

Traddles and I were not together at the table, but were seated in two distant corners: he sat in the red light of a red velvet woman, and I sat in the shadow of Aunt Hamlet, eating for a long time , the table was about nobility—and blood.If there was anything wrong with her, Mrs. Whatbrook kept saying, it was blood.

It occurred to me a few times that if we weren't so respectable, we should be more comfortable.Because we are so respectable, our horizons are narrowed.There was a couple in the audience, Mr. and Mrs. Gulpige, who had an indirect relationship (at least Mr. Gulpige) with the bank's legal affairs.We talk exclusively about banks or treasuries like a court referral list.In order to change this situation, Hamlet's aunt has a habit of talking to herself from generation to generation. No matter what the problem is, she talks non-stop.These aren't many questions, but since we return to lineages from time to time, her abstract theories on the subject are as erudite as her nephew's.

We were like a pack of cannibals, and the conversation about blood was a bloody scene.

"I agree with Mrs. Whatbrook," said Mr. Whatbrook, raising his glass. "Everything else is in place, but blood is what I want."

"Oh!" said Hamlet's aunt, "there's nothing more desirable than blood. In all things of that kind, it's not so wonderful. There are some fools (not many, fortunately, but there are some) , like to do silly things. Completely idols, worship knowledge, worship career, etc. But these are elusive matters. Blood is different. We see blood on a nose, we recognize it. We see blood on a chin Seeing it on the Internet, we said: 'It's there! That's the lineage!' It's a real problem. We can point to that beyond dispute."

The wobbly fellow who accompanies Agnes puts the matter more decisively, I think.

"Oh, we know," said the guy, looking around the table for a week with a goofy look, "we have to talk about blood. We have to talk about blood, and some young people, some unworthy of their status, may and a little behind in behavior, maybe doing a little wrong thing, but getting yourself into trouble - and that sort of thing - but, after all, their blood is a joy! Myself, I'd rather call a man of blood to a party I don’t want to be lifted up by a person without blood.”

The subject of descent was summed up in an incomparable manner in this conversation, to the utmost satisfaction of all, and the fellow attracted a great deal of attention before the ladies retired.After that, I saw Mr. Gulpige and Mr. Henry Spike, who has always been very cold, form an alliance, regard us as a common enemy, and exchange a mysterious dialogue across the table to defeat us and overthrow us. .

"That £[-] Type A bond case didn't go as well as expected, did it, Spike?" said Mr. Gulpige.

"You mean Earl A?" said Mr. Spike.

"Earl B's bonds!" said Mr. Gulpige.

Mr. Spike raised his eyebrows in concern.

"The bond was brought to Sir So-and-so—I don't need to name names," said Mr. Gulpige, breaking off abruptly—

"I see," said Mr. Spike, "C."

Mr. Gulpige nodded ambiguously—"When brought up to him, his answer was: 'Repay the money or go to jail.'"

"Oh, my God!" said Mr. Spike.

"Repay the money, or go to prison," repeated Mr. Gulpige again, "and the second heir—do you understand?"

"V," said Mr. Spike grimly.

"-E flatly refused to sign it, he was under surveillance at Newmarket to get him to sign, and he flatly refused to do so."

Mr. Spike was so concerned that he was completely dumbfounded by this.

"Let's leave the matter at that for the present," said Mr. Gulpige, leaning back in his chair. "As the interests are so great, I cannot describe them all. Our friend Mr. Walterbrook will forgive me."

It seems to me that Mr. Waterbrook must have felt the greatest honor at his party to hear these hints.He assumed an air of vague understanding (in fact, I don't think he knew any more than I did), and praised the deliberation he had taken.It was natural for Mr. Spike to have a conversation of his own when he heard this anecdote, but in this speech it was Mr. Gulpige's turn to express surprise.And it goes on and on like this.And all this time, we little people have been constantly oppressed by these conversations; our masters proudly look upon us as victims of horrified terror.

I'm glad I could go upstairs to see Agnes and introduce Traddles to her.Traddles was shy, but a lovable good-natured fellow, and Traddles, who had to leave early the next morning as he was lodging elsewhere, could not have a deep conversation with him.But we exchanged addresses and booked him back in London and we were reunited.He heard that I had seen Steerforth, and was very interested, and praised him with such enthusiasm that I made him pass his remarks on Steerforth to Agnes.But Agnes just looked at me, shaking her head only slightly when I looked at her.

Because I don't think she can be happy here, I didn't feel sorry when she said she was going away for a few days, though I thought of being separated from her again so soon.This thought kept me with her till all the guests were gone.Talking to her, hearing her sing, brought me joyful remembrances of the happy life in the old house where I once lived--a house made beautiful by her presence.I could have stayed till midnight, but when the guests at Mr. Whatbrook's party disappeared like the stars, I had no reason to stay, and was obliged to take my leave.At that time, I felt that she was my lucky god.When I think of her lovely face and peaceful smile, shining on me like an angel looking far away, I believe I am not mistaken.

I have already said that all the guests are gone, but I should exclude Yulia.He hovered near us all night.He was right behind me as I went downstairs.He was close beside me as I walked out of the house, sticking his long, thin fingers into the finger tubes of a much longer glove than this one.

I asked Yulia if he would come to my place for a cup of coffee. I didn't mean to make friends with him, but I did when I remembered Agnes' request.

"Oh, indeed, Master Copperfield," he replied, "if you will excuse me, Mr. Copperfield, but that is more natural—I do not wish you to force yourself to have a man as low as myself apartment."

"It's not forced," I said, "will you come?"

"I would like to." Yulia replied with a twist.

"Well, come on!" I said.

I couldn't help being rude to him, he didn't seem to care.We took a shortcut and didn't talk much along the way.

(End of this chapter)