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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 180/820
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We
dined
soon
after
I
awoke
,
off
a
roast
fowl
and
a
pudding
;
I
sitting
at
table
,
not
unlike
a
trussed
bird
myself
,
and
moving
my
arms
with
considerable
difficulty
.
But
as
my
aunt
had
swathed
me
up
,
I
made
no
complaint
of
being
inconvenienced
.
All
this
time
I
was
deeply
anxious
to
know
what
she
was
going
to
do
with
me
;
but
she
took
her
dinner
in
profound
silence
,
except
when
she
occasionally
fixed
her
eyes
on
me
sitting
opposite
,
and
said
,
‘
Mercy
upon
us
!
’
which
did
not
by
any
means
relieve
my
anxiety
.
The
cloth
being
drawn
,
and
some
sherry
put
upon
the
table
(
of
which
I
had
a
glass
)
,
my
aunt
sent
up
for
Mr
.
Dick
again
,
who
joined
us
,
and
looked
as
wise
as
he
could
when
she
requested
him
to
attend
to
my
story
,
which
she
elicited
from
me
,
gradually
,
by
a
course
of
questions
.
During
my
recital
,
she
kept
her
eyes
on
Mr
.
Dick
,
who
I
thought
would
have
gone
to
sleep
but
for
that
,
and
who
,
whensoever
he
lapsed
into
a
smile
,
was
checked
by
a
frown
from
my
aunt
.
‘
Whatever
possessed
that
poor
unfortunate
Baby
,
that
she
must
go
and
be
married
again
,
’
said
my
aunt
,
when
I
had
finished
,
‘
I
can
’
t
conceive
.
’
‘
Perhaps
she
fell
in
love
with
her
second
husband
,
’
Mr
.
Dick
suggested
.
‘
Fell
in
love
!
’
repeated
my
aunt
.
‘
What
do
you
mean
?
What
business
had
she
to
do
it
?
’
‘
Perhaps
,
’
Mr
.
Dick
simpered
,
after
thinking
a
little
,
‘
she
did
it
for
pleasure
.
’
‘
Pleasure
,
indeed
!
’
replied
my
aunt
.
‘
A
mighty
pleasure
for
the
poor
Baby
to
fix
her
simple
faith
upon
any
dog
of
a
fellow
,
certain
to
ill
-
use
her
in
some
way
or
other
.
What
did
she
propose
to
herself
,
I
should
like
to
know
!
She
had
had
one
husband
.
She
had
seen
David
Copperfield
out
of
the
world
,
who
was
always
running
after
wax
dolls
from
his
cradle
.
She
had
got
a
baby
—
oh
,
there
were
a
pair
of
babies
when
she
gave
birth
to
this
child
sitting
here
,
that
Friday
night
!
—
and
what
more
did
she
want
?
’
Mr
.
Dick
secretly
shook
his
head
at
me
,
as
if
he
thought
there
was
no
getting
over
this
.
‘
She
couldn
’
t
even
have
a
baby
like
anybody
else
,
’
said
my
aunt
.
‘
Where
was
this
child
’
s
sister
,
Betsey
Trotwood
?
Not
forthcoming
.
Don
’
t
tell
me
!
’
