Kitabı oku: «Большие надежды. Уровень 2 / Great Expectations», sayfa 4

Chapter 6

When I was old enough, I was to be apprenticed to Joe.

“Didn’t you ever go to school, Joe, when you were as little as me?” asked I one day.

“No, Pip.”

“Why didn’t you ever go to school?”

“Well, Pip,” said Joe; “I’ll tell you. My father, Pip, liked to drink much. So my mother and me we ran away from my father several times. Sometimes my mother said, ‘Joe, you must go to school, child.’ And she put me to school. But my father couldn’t live without us. So he came with a crowd and took us from the houses where we were. He took us home and hammered us.”

“Certainly, poor Joe!”

“My father said I must work. So I went to work. In time I was able to keep him, and I kept him till he went off.”

Joe’s blue eyes turned a little watery. He rubbed first one of them, and then the other, in a most uncongenial and uncomfortable manner, with the round knob on the top of the poker.

“I met your sister,” said Joe, “she was living here alone. Now, Pip,”Joe looked firmly at me; “your sister is very nice and clever.”

“I am glad you think so, Joe.”

“Yes,” returned Joe. “That’s it. You’re right, old chap! When I met your sister, she was bringing you. Very kind of her too, all the folks said, and I said, along with all the folks. When your sister was willing and ready to come to the forge, I said to her, ‘And bring the poor little child. God bless the poor little child,’ I said to your sister, ‘there’s room for him at the forge!’”

I hugged Joe round the neck. He dropped the poker to hug me and said,

“We are the best friends; aren’t we, Pip? Don’t cry, old chap!”

When this little interruption was over, Joe resumed:

“Well, you see; here we are! Your sister a master-mind.¹⁶ A master-mind. However, here comes the mare!”

Mrs. Joe and Uncle Pumblechook were soon near. Then we were soon all in the kitchen.

“Now,” said Mrs. Joe, with haste and excitement, “if this boy isn’t grateful this night, he never will be! Miss Havisham wants this boy to go and play in her house. And of course he’ll go.”

I heard of Miss Havisham – everybody heard of her – as an immensely rich and grim lady. She lived in a large and dismal house and led a life of seclusion¹⁷.

“But how did she know Pip?” said Joe, astounded.

“Who said she knew him?” cried my sister. “She just asked Uncle Pumblechook if he knew of a boy to go and play there. Uncle Pumblechook thinks that that is the boy’s fortune. So he offered to take him into town tonight in his own chaise-cart, and to take him with his own hands to Miss Havisham’s tomorrow morning.”

I was then delivered over to Mr. Pumblechook. He said:

“Boy, be forever grateful!”

“Good-bye, Joe!”

“God bless you, Pip, old chap!”

I never parted from him before. I did not understand why I was going to play at Miss Havisham’s, and what to play at.

Chapter 7

Mr. Pumblechook and I breakfasted at eight o’clock in the parlor behind the shop. I didn’t like Mr. Pumblechook. He said, pompously,

“Seven times nine, boy?¹⁸”

I was very hungry, but the math lesson lasted all through the breakfast.

“Seven?” “And four?” “And eight?” “And six?” “And two?” “And ten?” And so on.

For such reasons, I was very glad when ten o’clock came and we started for Miss Havisham’s. Miss Havisham’s house was of old brick, and dismal, and had many iron bars. While we waited at the gate, Mr. Pumblechook said, “And fourteen?” but I did not answer.

A window was raised, and a clear voice demanded,

“What name?”

My conductor replied,

“Pumblechook.”

The voice returned, “Quite right,” and the window was shut again. Then a young lady came across the courtyard, with keys in her hand.

“This,” said Mr. Pumblechook, “is Pip.”

“This is Pip, is it?” returned the young lady, who was very pretty and seemed very proud; “come in, Pip.”

Mr. Pumblechook was coming in also, when she stopped him.

“Oh!” she said. “Did you wish to see Miss Havisham?”

“If Miss Havisham wished to see me,” returned Mr. Pumblechook, discomfited.

“Ah!” said the girl; “but you see she didn’t.”

Mr. Pumblechook did not protest. My young conductress locked the gate, and we went across the courtyard. It was paved and clean, but grass was growing in every crevice. The cold wind seemed to blow colder there than outside the gate.

“Now, boy, you are at the Manor House,” said the girl.

“Is that the name of this house, miss?”

“One of its names, boy.”

She called me “boy” very often, but she was of about my own age. Anyway, she seemed much older than I, of course.

We went into the house by a side door. The great front entrance had two chains across it outside. The passages were all dark. At last we came to the door of a room, and the girl said, “Go in.”

I answered, more in shyness than politeness, “After you, miss.”

To this she returned:

“Don’t be ridiculous, boy; I am not going in.”

She scornfully walked away, and took the candle with her.

This was very uncomfortable, and I was afraid. However, I knocked and entered. I found myself¹⁹ in a large room. It was well lighted with wax candles. No glimpse of daylight. It was a dressing-room, but in it was a draped table with a gilded looking-glass.

In an arm-chair, sat a very strange lady. She was dressed in rich materials – satins, and lace, and silks – all of white. Her shoes were white. And she had a long white veil dependent from her hair. She had bridal flowers in her hair, but her hair was white. Some bright jewels sparkled on her neck and on her hands, and some other jewels lay on the table.

“Who is it?” said the lady.

“Pip, ma’am.”

“Come nearer; let me look at you. Come close.”

A clock in the room stopped at twenty minutes to nine.

“Look at me,” said Miss Havisham. “You are not afraid of me?”

“No.”

“Do you know what I touch here?” she laid her hands, one upon the other, on her left side.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What do I touch?”

“Your heart.”

“Broken!”

She uttered the word with strong emphasis, and with a weird smile.

“I am tired,” said Miss Havisham. “I want diversion. Play. I sometimes have sick fancies. There, there!” with an impatient movement of the fingers of her right hand; “play, play, play!”

I was looking at Miss Havisham.

“Are you sullen and obstinate?”

“No, ma’am, I am very sorry for you, and very sorry I can’t play just now. It’s so new here, and so strange, and so fine and melancholy…”

Before she spoke again, she turned her eyes from me, and looked at the dress she wore, and at the dressing-table, and finally at herself in the looking-glass.

“So new to him,” she muttered, “so old to me; so strange to him, so familiar to me; so melancholy to both of us! Call Estella.”