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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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‘
I
suppose
,
’
said
my
aunt
,
eyeing
me
as
narrowly
as
she
had
eyed
the
needle
in
threading
it
,
‘
you
think
Mr
.
Dick
a
short
name
,
eh
?
’
‘
I
thought
it
was
rather
a
short
name
,
yesterday
,
’
I
confessed
.
‘
You
are
not
to
suppose
that
he
hasn
’
t
got
a
longer
name
,
if
he
chose
to
use
it
,
’
said
my
aunt
,
with
a
loftier
air
.
‘
Babley
—
Mr
.
Richard
Babley
—
that
’
s
the
gentleman
’
s
true
name
.
’
I
was
going
to
suggest
,
with
a
modest
sense
of
my
youth
and
the
familiarity
I
had
been
already
guilty
of
,
that
I
had
better
give
him
the
full
benefit
of
that
name
,
when
my
aunt
went
on
to
say
:
‘
But
don
’
t
you
call
him
by
it
,
whatever
you
do
.
He
can
’
t
bear
his
name
.
That
’
s
a
peculiarity
of
his
.
Though
I
don
’
t
know
that
it
’
s
much
of
a
peculiarity
,
either
;
for
he
has
been
ill
-
used
enough
,
by
some
that
bear
it
,
to
have
a
mortal
antipathy
for
it
,
Heaven
knows
.
Mr
.
Dick
is
his
name
here
,
and
everywhere
else
,
now
—
if
he
ever
went
anywhere
else
,
which
he
don
’
t
.
So
take
care
,
child
,
you
don
’
t
call
him
anything
BUT
Mr
.
Dick
.
’
I
promised
to
obey
,
and
went
upstairs
with
my
message
;
thinking
,
as
I
went
,
that
if
Mr
.
Dick
had
been
working
at
his
Memorial
long
,
at
the
same
rate
as
I
had
seen
him
working
at
it
,
through
the
open
door
,
when
I
came
down
,
he
was
probably
getting
on
very
well
indeed
.
I
found
him
still
driving
at
it
with
a
long
pen
,
and
his
head
almost
laid
upon
the
paper
.
He
was
so
intent
upon
it
,
that
I
had
ample
leisure
to
observe
the
large
paper
kite
in
a
corner
,
the
confusion
of
bundles
of
manuscript
,
the
number
of
pens
,
and
,
above
all
,
the
quantity
of
ink
(
which
he
seemed
to
have
in
,
in
half
-
gallon
jars
by
the
dozen
)
,
before
he
observed
my
being
present
.
‘
Ha
!
Phoebus
!
’
said
Mr
.
Dick
,
laying
down
his
pen
.
‘
How
does
the
world
go
?
I
’
ll
tell
you
what
,
’
he
added
,
in
a
lower
tone
,
‘
I
shouldn
’
t
wish
it
to
be
mentioned
,
but
it
’
s
a
—
—
’
here
he
beckoned
to
me
,
and
put
his
lips
close
to
my
ear
—
‘
it
’
s
a
mad
world
.
Mad
as
Bedlam
,
boy
!
’
said
Mr
.
Dick
,
taking
snuff
from
a
round
box
on
the
table
,
and
laughing
heartily
.
Without
presuming
to
give
my
opinion
on
this
question
,
I
delivered
my
message
.
‘
Well
,
’
said
Mr
.
Dick
,
in
answer
,
‘
my
compliments
to
her
,
and
I
—
I
believe
I
have
made
a
start
.
I
think
I
have
made
a
start
,
’
said
Mr
.
