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- Авторы
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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 775/820
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I
found
it
not
difficult
,
in
the
excitement
of
Mr
.
Chillip
’
s
own
brain
,
under
his
potations
of
negus
,
to
divert
his
attention
from
this
topic
to
his
own
affairs
,
on
which
,
for
the
next
half
-
hour
,
he
was
quite
loquacious
;
giving
me
to
understand
,
among
other
pieces
of
information
,
that
he
was
then
at
the
Gray
’
s
Inn
Coffee
-
house
to
lay
his
professional
evidence
before
a
Commission
of
Lunacy
,
touching
the
state
of
mind
of
a
patient
who
had
become
deranged
from
excessive
drinking
.
‘
And
I
assure
you
,
sir
,
’
he
said
,
‘
I
am
extremely
nervous
on
such
occasions
.
I
could
not
support
being
what
is
called
Bullied
,
sir
.
It
would
quite
unman
me
.
Do
you
know
it
was
some
time
before
I
recovered
the
conduct
of
that
alarming
lady
,
on
the
night
of
your
birth
,
Mr
.
Copperfield
?
’
I
told
him
that
I
was
going
down
to
my
aunt
,
the
Dragon
of
that
night
,
early
in
the
morning
;
and
that
she
was
one
of
the
most
tender
-
hearted
and
excellent
of
women
,
as
he
would
know
full
well
if
he
knew
her
better
.
The
mere
notion
of
the
possibility
of
his
ever
seeing
her
again
,
appeared
to
terrify
him
.
He
replied
with
a
small
pale
smile
,
‘
Is
she
so
,
indeed
,
sir
?
Really
?
’
and
almost
immediately
called
for
a
candle
,
and
went
to
bed
,
as
if
he
were
not
quite
safe
anywhere
else
He
did
not
actually
stagger
under
the
negus
;
but
I
should
think
his
placid
little
pulse
must
have
made
two
or
three
more
beats
in
a
minute
,
than
it
had
done
since
the
great
night
of
my
aunt
’
s
disappointment
,
when
she
struck
at
him
with
her
bonnet
.
Thoroughly
tired
,
I
went
to
bed
too
,
at
midnight
;
passed
the
next
day
on
the
Dover
coach
;
burst
safe
and
sound
into
my
aunt
’
s
old
parlour
while
she
was
at
tea
(
she
wore
spectacles
now
)
;
and
was
received
by
her
,
and
Mr
.
Dick
,
and
dear
old
Peggotty
,
who
acted
as
housekeeper
,
with
open
arms
and
tears
of
joy
.
My
aunt
was
mightily
amused
,
when
we
began
to
talk
composedly
,
by
my
account
of
my
meeting
with
Mr
.
Chillip
,
and
of
his
holding
her
in
such
dread
remembrance
;
and
both
she
and
Peggotty
had
a
great
deal
to
say
about
my
poor
mother
’
s
second
husband
,
and
‘
that
murdering
woman
of
a
sister
’
,
—
on
whom
I
think
no
pain
or
penalty
would
have
induced
my
aunt
to
bestow
any
Christian
or
Proper
Name
,
or
any
other
designation
.
My
aunt
and
I
,
when
we
were
left
alone
,
talked
far
into
the
night
.
How
the
emigrants
never
wrote
home
,
otherwise
than
cheerfully
and
hopefully
;
how
Mr
.
Micawber
had
actually
remitted
divers
small
sums
of
money
,
on
account
of
those
‘
pecuniary
liabilities
’
,
in
reference
to
which
he
had
been
so
business
-
like
as
between
man
and
man
;
how
Janet
,
returning
into
my
aunt
’
s
service
when
she
came
back
to
Dover
,
had
finally
carried
out
her
renunciation
of
mankind
by
entering
into
wedlock
with
a
thriving
tavern
-
keeper
;
and
how
my
aunt
had
finally
set
her
seal
on
the
same
great
principle
,
by
aiding
and
abetting
the
bride
,
and
crowning
the
marriage
-
ceremony
with
her
presence
;
were
among
our
topics
—
already
more
or
less
familiar
to
me
through
the
letters
I
had
had
.
Mr
.
Dick
,
as
usual
,
was
not
forgotten
.
My
aunt
informed
me
how
he
incessantly
occupied
himself
in
copying
everything
he
could
lay
his
hands
on
,
and
kept
King
Charles
the
First
at
a
respectful
distance
by
that
semblance
of
employment
;
how
it
was
one
of
the
main
joys
and
rewards
of
her
life
that
he
was
free
and
happy
,
instead
of
pining
in
monotonous
restraint
;
and
how
(
as
a
novel
general
conclusion
)
nobody
but
she
could
ever
fully
know
what
he
was
.
‘
And
when
,
Trot
,
’
said
my
aunt
,
patting
the
back
of
my
hand
,
as
we
sat
in
our
old
way
before
the
fire
,
‘
when
are
you
going
over
to
Canterbury
?
’
‘
I
shall
get
a
horse
,
and
ride
over
tomorrow
morning
,
aunt
,
unless
you
will
go
with
me
?
’
‘
No
!
’
said
my
aunt
,
in
her
short
abrupt
way
.
‘
I
mean
to
stay
where
I
am
.
’
Then
,
I
should
ride
,
I
said
.
I
could
not
have
come
through
Canterbury
today
without
stopping
,
if
I
had
been
coming
to
anyone
but
her
.
