Большие надежды. Уровень 2 / Great Expectations

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.”

As she was still looking at the reflection of herself, I thought she was still talking to herself.

“Call Estella,” she repeated. “You can do that. Call Estella. At the door.”

I called Estella. Soon her light came along the dark passage like a star. Miss Havisham beckoned her to come close, and took up a jewel from the table.

“Your own, one day, my dear, and you will use it well. Let me see you play cards with this boy.”

“With this boy? Why, he is a common laboring boy[20 - a common laboring boy – самый обыкновенный деревенский мальчишка]!”

Miss Havisham answered,

“Well? You can break his heart.”

“What do you play, boy?” asked Estella, with the greatest disdain.

“Nothing but beggar my neighbor[21 - Nothing but beggar my neighbor. – Ни во что другое, как кроме в «дурачка».], miss.”

“Beggar him[22 - Beggar him. – Оставь его в дураках.],” said Miss Havisham to Estella.

So we sat down to cards. The lady was corpse-like, as we played.

“What coarse hands he has, this boy!” said Estella with disdain. “And what thick boots!”

Her contempt for me was very strong. She won the game, and I dealt. I misdealt, and she called me a stupid, clumsy laboring-boy.

“You say nothing of her,” remarked Miss Havisham to me. “She says many hard things of you, but you say nothing of her. What do you think of her?”

“I don’t like to say,” I stammered.

“Tell me in my ear,” said Miss Havisham.

“I think she is very proud,” I replied, in a whisper.

“Anything else?”

“I think she is very pretty.”

“Anything else?”

“I think she is very insulting.”

“Anything else?”

“I want to go home.”

“And never see her again, though she is so pretty?”

“I am not sure. But I want to go home now.”

“You will go soon,” said Miss Havisham, aloud. “Play.”

I played the game to an end with Estella, and she beggared me. She threw the cards down on the table.

“When shall I have you here again?” said Miss Havisham. “Let me think. Come again after six days. You hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Estella, take him down. Let him have something to eat. Go, Pip.”

I followed the candle down. Estella opened the side entrance.

“Wait here, you boy,” said Estella.

She disappeared and closed the door.

She came back, with some bread and meat and a little mug of beer. She put the mug down on the stones of the yard, and gave me the bread and meat. She did not look at me. I was so humiliated, hurt, spurned, offended, angry. Tears started to my eyes. The girl looked at me with a quick delight, then she left me.

I looked about me for a place to hide my face in and cried. As I cried, I kicked the wall.

Then I noticed Estella. She laughed contemptuously, pushed me out, and locked the gate upon me. I went straight to Mr. Pumblechook’s. Then I walked to our forge. I remembered that I was a common laboring-boy; that my hands were coarse; that my boots were thick.

Chapter 8

When I reached home, my sister was very curious to know all about Miss Havisham’s. She asked many questions. Then old Pumblechook came over at tea-time.

“Well, boy,” Uncle Pumblechook began, as soon as he was seated in the chair of honor[23 - the chair of honor – почётное место] by the fire. “How did you get on up town?[24 - How did you get on up town?” – Как ты провел время в городе?]”

I answered, “Pretty well, sir,” and my sister shook her fist at me.

“Pretty well?” Mr. Pumblechook repeated. “Pretty well is no answer. Tell us what you mean by pretty well, boy?”

“I mean pretty well,” I answered.

My sister was ready to hit me. I had no defence, for Joe was busy in the forge. Mr. Pumblechook interposed,

“No! Don’t lose your temper. Leave this lad to me, ma’am; leave this lad to me.”

Then Mr. Pumblechook turned me towards him and said,