David Copperfield

Chapter 8
Chapter 4 Humiliated and humiliated (1)
If this new bedroom I have moved into is a sentient thing that can witness, then today, now I can ask it—who sleeps there now, I wonder—let it prove, that it brings How heavy my heart is.The dogs in the yard barked wildly as I went upstairs.I walked in there, and I saw the room as foreign as the room looked at me, and I sat down with my hands crossed, thinking.

All I think about are the oddities.Thinking of the way the house looks like, the cracks in the ceiling, the wallpaper on the walls, the swirling cracks in the window panes, the three-legged washstand, which seems to have a whining air, reminds me of gummi Mrs. Zhi missed the situation of her old man.At that time, I kept crying, but apart from being deserted and lonely, I dare say I didn't think of why I was so sad.Then at last in my solitude I began to think that only little Em'ly and I were really in love, but were forcibly separated, and came to this place where nobody treated me like she did.The thought made me so sad that I wrapped the corner of the sheet around me and cried myself to sleep.

In my dream, I vaguely heard someone say: "There he is!"; at the same time, I felt someone poking my hot head out of the quilt.I opened my eyes and saw that it was my mother and Peggotty who had come to see me, and it was one of them who had woken me.

"Wei," my mother said, "what's the matter with you?"

I thought it was weird that she should ask me that, so I said, "It's nothing." I remember turning my face inward so that she wouldn't see those trembling lips that were more telling.

"Wei," said the mother, "my boy!"

I daresay nothing she could say at that time moved me more than this.I covered my face hard to hide my tears, and when she was about to pick me up, I pushed her away with my hands.

"This is all your work, Peggotty, you cruel fellow!" said my mother. "I'm sure it was you who instigated my boy against me and against his relatives. What kind of heart do you have?" ? What do you mean, Peggotty?"

Poor Peggotty could only reply in the words of my usual after-dinner prayer: "God forgive you, Mrs. Copperfield, and may you never regret what you have just said!"

"It's driving me nuts," my mother cried. "I haven't even had my honeymoon yet! Even people who have a deep hatred against me should soften their hearts and not be jealous of my little peace and happiness." Well, you naughty boy! Peggotty, you cruel fellow! Oh, my God!" cried my mother petulantly, cursing at me, and turning to Peggotty, "I thought we were totally One has the right to expect the world to be as it pleases him, but with all these troubles, what a world it is!"

I felt a hand touching me, and I knew that it was neither my mother's nor Peggotty's, but that it was Mr. Murdstone's, and as he took mine, he said:

"What's the matter? Clara, my dear, how have you forgotten?—Be firm, dear!"

"I'm so sorry, Edward," my mother said, "I'd like to do better, too, but this is so hard!"

"Yes!" he replied. "It's just the beginning. Why do you say such nasty things, Clara?"

"It embarrasses me so much," my mother said, pursing her lips. "It's so embarrassing."

He pulled her over, whispered comfort beside her, and kissed her again.When I saw my mother's head on his shoulder and her arms against his neck, I knew that he could make her weak character whatever he wanted.Now I know that he did.

"You go down first, my dear," said Mr. Murdstone, "David and I will be down together in a moment." He nodded to his mother, and with a smile told her to go away, then turned sullenly to Peggotty , "Do you know what your wife's last name is?"

"After all these years, sir," said Peggotty, "how can I not know her name?"

"That's true," he answered, "but I thought I heard you not calling her by her name when I went upstairs. She's got mine, don't you see? You'll have to remember that, Did you hear that?"

Peggotty glanced at me anxiously, said nothing, but bent his knees, and left the room.I guess she must have seen that Murdstone wanted her out, and at the same time, she had no reason to want to stay.We were alone in the room now, and he closed the door, sat on a chair, grabbed me, and made me stand in front of him, looking me in the eye.I felt like I was staring at him involuntarily, too.When I think of our relative scene at that time, I seem to hear my heart beating fast again.

"David," he said, lips pursed and thin, "if I had to deal with a disobedient horse or dog, what do you think I'd do?"

"I do not know."

I began to answer in a weak whisper, and now I felt my breathing suddenly tighten.

"I beat him."

"I'm scaring it, it hurts. I'm going to subdue that guy. I'm going to do it, even if it bleeds. What's on your face?"

"Mud," I said.

Of course we all know that it is a tear stain.However, even if he asked twenty times, plus twenty fists each time, I believe I would rather my childish heart explode than admit it to him.

"Although you are young, you are smart," he said with a half-smile expression, "you are really sensible. Wash your face, young master, and come down with me."

He pointed to the washstand which made me look like Mrs. Gummidge, and told me to follow his orders.I knew that if I hesitated, he would knock me over.

When I did, he still took my arm and supervised me into the living room, where he said, "Clara, dear, I don't think you'll feel sick anymore. We'll be able to change this little kid soon." temper."

God, if he had said a kind word then, a word of encouragement and wisdom, a word of sympathy for my youth, a word of welcome home, a word of reassurance that this was really my home—just a word like that, Then I will not pretend to be filial to him, but sincerely filial to him, not only do not hate him but respect him.I think my mother was very sad to see me so scared and distant at that time.So I slipped to a chair, and she immediately followed me with worried eyes—perhaps reminiscing about the lively steps of my childhood.But the words were not uttered, and the opportunity to say them disappeared in an instant.

The three of us ate together.He seems to love my mother--but I'm afraid I don't like him for that--and my mother loves him.I knew from the conversation between the two of them that one of his older sisters was coming to live with him.And she was there that night, and Mr. Murdstone was not involved in any business himself, but had a share in a distillery in London, and drew a small dividend every year; My sister also holds the same share in that factory.I don't know whether I knew this at the time or later; but I can mention it here a little bit, whether it's true or not.

Sitting by the fire after dinner, I thought of some way of sneaking to Peggotty without offending the head of the house.While I was worrying, a carriage came up to the garden gate, and he went out to meet his guests, followed by my mother, and I followed her timidly.Taking advantage of Ye Mu at the door of the living room, she hugged me tightly as usual, and whispered in my ear that I should love my new father and listen to him.She does it secretly, hastily, but with great kindness.She put her hand behind my back and took mine, and we walked together to where Mr Murdstone was standing, then she let go of my hand and took his arm.

It was Miss Murdstone who came.She was a stern-faced woman with a dark complexion and a loud voice; she had thick eyebrows that almost caught her nose.On the lids of the two black and hard boxes she carried with her, the initials of her name were nailed with very hard copper nails.When she paid for the car she drew money from a stiff brass purse that was securely carried in a handbag hung from her arm by a thick chain.I had never seen a woman so iron as Miss Murdstone before that time.

After many gestures of welcome, Miss Murdstone was shown into the drawing-room, where my mother was formally recognized as next of kin.Then looked at me and said:

"This is your son, brother and sister?"

My mother said yes.

"Usually," said Miss Murdstone, "I don't like boys. Hello, boy."

With such encouragement, I replied that I was fine and wished her well too.But being not very respectful, Miss Murdstone dismissed me with three words:

"Impolite!"

After saying those words clearly, she wanted to look around her room.Since then, the house has been a forbidding place, where the two black boxes were never opened and never unlocked, and where (for in her absence I peeped a Twice), Miss Murdstone's little brass shackles and rivets hung grimly over the mirror.

In my opinion, when she comes, she plans to stay for a long time, and if she has no intention of leaving, she will leave.Early the next morning, she started "helping" my mother, walking in and out of the storage room all day, nominally "tidying things up" but actually destroying the arrangement.The most striking and salient feature I found in Miss Murdstone was that she always suspected that the maids had a man in the house.Driven by such whims, she always rushed into the coal cellar unexpectedly, opened the dark cupboard, and then slammed the door behind her, thinking she had caught the man.

Clumsy as Miss Murdstone was, she was absolutely nimble in getting up early.She got up earlier than anyone else in the family (until now, I always believed that she was going to catch men).It seemed to Peggotty that Miss Murdstone slept with one eye closed.

On the first morning after her arrival, she rang the bell as soon as the cock crowed.When my mother came down to breakfast to prepare morning tea, Miss Murdstone gave her a peck on the cheek, which was her kiss, and said:

"Clara, dear, you know I'm here to relieve all trouble. Because you're too beautiful to think!"—My mother blushed a little, but smiled again, as if not disgusted This kind of saying - "If you have to do everything, you can't do it, so if I can do my best, don't be shy, give me your key, and I will take care of everything in the future."

Thereafter, Miss Murdstone locked the keys in her little prison during the day, and kept them under her pillow at night, and my mother had no more access to them than I did.

My mother did not willingly transfer sovereignty.Miss Murdstone was talking with her brother about the house one evening, and she suggested some plans, which he thought would be all right.At this time, my mother burst into tears, because she thought she would discuss it with her.

"Clara!" snapped Mr. Murdstone, "Clara, I don't understand how you can do that?"

"Oh, it's wrong to say you don't understand me, Edward!" cried my mother. "You say I should be firm, but you don't do it yourself."

I can say that firmness is the great principle of the Murdstone brothers and sisters.Though I have my own opinion on this, if I were asked to speak of it, I would take it as an alias for tyranny, the sullen, haughty, diabolical temperament that both of them had in common.Mr. Murdstone is firm. In his world, no one can be as firm as Mr. Murdstone; in his world, no one else can be a little bit firm, because everyone succumbs to his firmness under.Except Miss Murdstone.She can be steadfast, but only for low-level vassals.My mother is another exception.She can be firm, and must be firm, but she is limited to enduring their firmness, firmly believing that there is no other firmness above the world.

"It's so sad," said my mother, "in my own house—"

"My own home?" repeated Mr. Murdstone. "Clara!"

"I mean our home," my mother said slowly, visibly frightened, "I think you know what I mean, Edward—in your own home I can't interject a word about domestic matters. I Dare I say, before we were married, my house was very well run, and there is evidence for that," my mother cried, "ask Peggotty, when no one interfered, I did not manage well?"

"Edward," said Miss Murdstone, "I'm leaving to-morrow."

"Jane Murdstone," said her brother, "you don't talk, you sound like you don't understand my temper, how can you!"

(End of this chapter)