david copperfield(大卫.科波维尔)-第17章
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guarded captive brought to a condemned service。 Again; Miss
Murdstone; in a black velvet gown; that looks as if it had been
made out of a pall; follows close upon me; then my mother; then
her husband。 There is no Peggotty now; as in the old time。 Again; I
listen to Miss Murdstone mumbling the responses; and
emphasizing all the dread words with a cruel relish。 Again; I see
her dark eyes roll round the church when she says ‘miserable
sinners’; as if she were calling all the congregation names。 Again; I
catch rare glimpses of my mother; moving her lips timidly between
the two; with one of them muttering at each ear like low thunder。
Again; I wonder with a sudden fear whether it is likely that our
good old clergyman can be wrong; and Mr。 and Miss Murdstone
right; and that all the angels in Heaven can be destroying angels。
Again; if I move a finger or relax a muscle of my face; Miss
Murdstone pokes me with her prayer…book; and makes my side
ache。
Yes; and again; as we walk home; I note some neighbours
looking at my mother and at me; and whispering。 Again; as the
three go on arm…in…arm; and I linger behind alone; I follow some of
those looks; and wonder if my mother’s step be really not so light
as I have seen it; and if the gaiety of her beauty be really almost
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
David Copperfield
worried away。 Again; I wonder whether any of the neighbours call
to mind; as I do; how we used to walk home together; she and I;
and I wonder stupidly about that; all the dreary dismal day。
There had been some talk on occasions of my going to
boarding…school。 Mr。 and Miss Murdstone had originated it; and
my mother had of course agreed with them。 Nothing; however;
was concluded on the subject yet。 In the meantime; I learnt
lessons at home。 Shall I ever forget those lessons! They were
presided over nominally by my mother; but really by Mr。
Murdstone and his sister; who were always present; and found
them a favourable occasion for giving my mother lessons in that
miscalled firmness; which was the bane of both our lives。 I believe
I was kept at home for that purpose。 I had been apt enough to
learn; and willing enough; when my mother and I had lived alone
together。 I can faintly remember learning the alphabet at her
knee。 To this day; when I look upon the fat black letters in the
primer; the puzzling novelty of their shapes; and the easy good…
nature of O and Q and S; seem to present themselves again before
me as they used to do。 But they recall no feeling of disgust or
reluctance。 On the contrary; I seem to have walked along a path of
flowers as far as the crocodile…book; and to have been cheered by
the gentleness of my mother’s voice and manner all the way。 But
these solemn lessons which succeeded those; I remember as the
death…blow of my peace; and a grievous daily drudgery and
misery。 They were very long; very numerous; very hard—perfectly
unintelligible; some of them; to me—and I was generally as much
bewildered by them as I believe my poor mother was herself。
Let me remember how it used to be; and bring one morning
back again。
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David Copperfield
I come into the second…best parlour after breakfast; with my
books; and an exercise…book; and a slate。 My mother is ready for
me at her writing…desk; but not half so ready as Mr。 Murdstone in
his easy…chair by the window (though he pretends to be reading a
book); or as Miss Murdstone; sitting near my mother stringing
steel beads。 The very sight of these two has such an influence over
me; that I begin to feel the words I have been at infinite pains to
get into my head; all sliding away; and going I don’t know where。 I
wonder where they do go; by the by?
I hand the first book to my mother。 Perhaps it is a grammar;
perhaps a history; or geography。 I take a last drowning look at the
page as I give it into her hand; and start off aloud at a racing pace
while I have got it fresh。 I trip over a word。 Mr。 Murdstone looks
up。 I trip over another word。 Miss Murdstone looks up。 I redden;
tumble over half…a…dozen words; and stop。 I think my mother
would show me the book if she dared; but she does not dare; and
she says softly:
‘Oh; Davy; Davy!’
‘Now; Clara;’ says Mr。 Murdstone; ‘be firm with the boy。 Don’t
say; “Oh; Davy; Davy!” That’s childish。 He knows his lesson; or he
does not know it。’
‘He does not know it;’ Miss Murdstone interposes awfully。
‘I am really afraid he does not;’ says my mother。
‘Then; you see; Clara;’ returns Miss Murdstone; ‘you should just
give him the book back; and make him know it。’
‘Yes; certainly;’ says my mother; ‘that is what I intend to do; my
dear Jane。 Now; Davy; try once more; and don’t be stupid。’
I obey the first clause of the injunction by trying once more; but
am not so successful with the second; for I am very stupid。 I
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
David Copperfield
tumble down before I get to the old place; at a point where I was
all right before; and stop to think。 But I can’t think about the
lesson。 I think of the number of yards of net in Miss Murdstone’s
cap; or of the price of Mr。 Murdstone’s dressing…gown; or any such
ridiculous problem that I have no business with; and don’t want to
have anything at all to do with。 Mr。 Murdstone makes a movement
of impatience which I have been expecting for a long time。 Miss
Murdstone does the same。 My mother glances submissively at
them; shuts the book; and lays it by as an arrear to be worked out
when my other tasks are done。
There is a pile of these arrears very soon; and it swells like a
rolling snowball。 The bigger it gets; the more stupid I get。 The case
is so hopeless; and I feel that I am wallowing in such a bog of
nonsense; that I give up all idea of getting out; and abandon myself
to my fate。 The despairing way in which my mother and I look at
each other; as I blunder on; is truly melancholy。 But the greatest
effect in these miserable lessons is when my mother (thinking
nobody is observing her) tries to give me the cue by the motion of
her lips。 At that instant; Miss Murdstone; who has been lying in
wait for nothing else all along; says in a deep warning voice:
‘Clara!’
My mother starts; colours; and smiles faintly。 Mr。 Murdstone
comes out of his chair; takes the book; throws it at me or boxes my
ears with it; and turns me out of the room by the shoulders。
Even when the lessons are done; the worst is yet to happen; in
the shape of an appalling sum。 This is invented for me; and
delivered to me orally by Mr。 Murdstone; and begins; ‘If I go into a
cheesemonger’s shop; and buy five thousand double…Gloucester
cheeses at fourpence…halfpenny each; present payment’—at which
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
David Copperfield
I see Miss Murdstone secretly overjoyed。 I pore over these cheeses
without any result or enlightenment until dinner…time; when;
having made a Mulatto of myself by getting the dirt of the slate
into the pores of my skin; I have a slice of bread to help me out
with the cheeses; and am considered in disgrace for the rest of the
evening。
It seems to me; at this distance of time; as if my unfortunate
studies generally took this course。 I could have done very well if I
had been without the Murdstones; but the influence of the
Murdstones upon me was like the fascination of two snakes on a
wretched young bird。 Even when I did get through the morning
with tolerable credit; there was not much gained but dinner; for
Miss Murdstone never could endure to see me untasked; and if I
rashly made any show of being unemployed; called her brother’s
attention to me by saying; ‘Clara; my dear; there’s nothing like
work—give your boy an exercise’; which caused me to be clapped
down to some new labour; there and then。 As to any recreation
with other children of my age; I had very little of that; for the
gloomy theology of the Murdstones made all children out to be a
swarm of little vipers (though there was a chil