Kitabı oku: «Большие надежды. Уровень 2 / Great Expectations», sayfa 10
Chapter 16
I took Biddy into our little garden, and talked to her.
“Biddy,” said I, “please help Joe, a little, when I’m in London.”
“How to help him?” asked Biddy.
“Well! Joe is a dear good fellow – in fact, I think he is the dearest fellow in the world – but he is rather backward in some things. For instance, Biddy, in his manners.”
Although I was looking at Biddy as I spoke, and although she opened her eyes very wide, she did not look at me.
“O, his manners!” said Biddy. “Don’t you think he may be proud?”
“Proud?” I repeated.
“There are many kinds of pride,” said Biddy. “He may be too proud.”
I put my best clothes on, and I went into town to visit the shops and presented myself before Mr. Trabb, the tailor.
“Well!” said Mr. Trabb. “What can I do for you?”
“Mr. Trabb,” said I, “I am going to London, and I want a fashionable suit of clothes.”
“My dear sir,” said Mr. Trabb, “May I congratulate you? Will you step into the shop?”
I selected the materials for a suit, with the assistance of Mr. Trabb. Mr. Trabb measured and calculated me in the parlor.
After this memorable event, I went to the hatter’s, and the bootmaker’s, and the hosier’s. I also went to the coach-office44 and took my place for seven o’clock on Saturday morning.
So, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, passed; and on Friday morning I went to pay my visit to Miss Havisham. I rang at the bell constrainedly. Sarah Pocket came to the gate, and reeled back when she saw me.
“You?” said she. “You? Good gracious! What do you want?”
“I am going to London, Miss Pocket,” said I, “and want to say goodbye to Miss Havisham.”
Miss Havisham was taking exercise in the room with the long spread table. She stopped and turned.
“Don’t go, Sarah,” she said. “Well, Pip?”
“I start for London, Miss Havisham, tomorrow, and I want to say goodbye.”
“Ay, ay!” said she. “I saw Mr. Jaggers and heard about your fortune, Pip. So you go tomorrow?”
“Yes, Miss Havisham.”
“And you are adopted by a rich person?”
“Yes, Miss Havisham.”
“Not named?”
“No, Miss Havisham.”
“And Mr. Jaggers is your guardian?”
“Yes, Miss Havisham.”
“Well!” she went on; “you have a career before you. Be good – deserve it – and abide by Mr. Jaggers’s instructions.”
She looked at me, and looked at Sarah.
“Goodbye, Pip! You will always keep the name of Pip, you know.”
“Yes, Miss Havisham.”
“Goodbye, Pip!”
She stretched out her hand, and I went down on my knee and put it to my lips. Sarah Pocket conducted me down. I said “Goodbye, Miss Pocket.”
Chapter 17
The journey from our town to the metropolis was a journey of about five hours. Mr. Jaggers sent me his address. We stopped in a gloomy street, at certain offices with an open door, whereon was painted MR. JAGGERS.
I went into the front office with my little portmanteau in my hand and asked,
“Is Mr. Jaggers at home?”
“He is not,” returned the clerk. “He is in Court at present. Am I addressing Mr. Pip?”
I signified that he was addressing Mr. Pip.
“Please wait in Mr. Jaggers’s room.”
Mr. Jaggers’s room was a very dismal place. There were not so many papers about; and there were some odd objects about – such as an old rusty pistol, a sword in a scabbard, several strange-looking boxes and packages.
My guardian took me into his own room, and informed me what arrangements he made for me. I must go to “Barnard’s Inn45,” to young Mr. Pocket’s rooms, where a bed was sent in for my accommodation.
“You will find it good, Mr. Pip,” said my guardian, “but I shall be able to check your bills.”
Chapter 18
Mr. Wemmick was a dry man, rather short in stature, with a square wooden face.
“So you were never in London before?” said Mr. Wemmick to me.
“No,” said I.
“I was new here once,” said Mr. Wemmick.
“You are well acquainted with it now?”
“Why, yes,” said Mr. Wemmick.
“Is it a very wicked place?” I asked.
“You may get cheated, robbed, and murdered in London. But there are plenty of people anywhere, who’ll do that for you.”
“Do you know where Mr. Matthew Pocket lives?” I asked Mr. Wemmick.
“Yes,” said he. “At Hammersmith, west of London.”
“Is that far?”
“Well! Say five miles.”
“Do you know him?”
“Yes, I know him. I know him!”
Barnard’s Inn. Is it Mr. Barnard’s hotel, indeed? But the realization of the first of my great expectations was imperfect. Mr. Wemmick led me into a corner and conducted me up a flight of stairs- to a set of chambers on the top floor. MR. POCKET, JUN., was painted on the door, and there was a label on the letter-box, “Return shortly46.”
“You don’t want me anymore?” asked Mr. Wemmick.
“No, thank you,” said I.
“As I keep the cash,” Mr. Wemmick observed, “we shall most likely meet pretty often. Good day.”
“Good day.”
When he left, I opened the staircase window. I was saying to myself that London was decidedly overrated.
Mr. Pocket, Junior, returned in half an hour. He had a paper-bag under each arm and a pottle of strawberries in one hand, and was out of breath.
“Mr. Pip?” said he.
“Mr. Pocket?” said I.
“Dear me!” he exclaimed. “I am extremely sorry. I think you will like a little fruit after dinner. So I went to Covent Garden Market47 to get it. Pray come in, allow me to lead the way. We will take a walk about London. I am sure I shall be very happy to show London to you. As to our table, you won’t find that bad, I hope, for it will be supplied from our coffee-house here48. As to our lodging, it’s not by any means splendid, because I have my own bread to earn, and my father hasn’t anything to give me. This is our sitting-room – just such chairs and tables and carpet and so forth, you see. This is your bedroom. If you want anything, I’ll go and fetch it. The chambers are retired, and we shall be alone together, but we shan’t fight, I dare say. But, I beg your pardon, you’re holding the fruit all this time. Pray let me take these bags from you. I am quite ashamed.”
Suddenly Mr. Pocket, Junior, said,
“Lord bless me, you’re the prowling boy!”
“And you,” said I, “are the pale young gentleman!”
