Дэвид Копперфильд

My First Dissipation

           Isaiditwasnotarespectfulwayofproposingthetoast,andIwouldneverpermitthattoasttobedrunkinmyhouseotherwisethanas‘TheLadies!’Iwasveryhighwithhim,mainlyIthinkbecauseIsawSteerforthandGraingerlaughingatme—orathim—oratbothofus.Hesaidamanwasnottobedictatedto.Isaidamanwas.Hesaidamanwasnottobeinsulted,then.Isaidhewasrightthere—neverundermyroof,wheretheLaresweresacred,andthelawsofhospitalityparamount.Hesaiditwasnoderogationfromaman’sdignitytoconfessthatIwasadevilishgoodfellow.Iinstantlyproposedhishealth.

           Somebodywassmoking.Wewereallsmoking.Iwassmoking,andtryingtosuppressarisingtendencytoshudder.Steerforthhadmadeaspeechaboutme,inthecourseofwhichIhadbeenaffectedalmosttotears.Ireturnedthanks,andhopedthepresentcompanywoulddinewithmetomorrow,andthedayafter—eachdayatfiveo’clock,thatwemightenjoythepleasuresofconversationandsocietythroughalongevening.Ifeltcalledupontoproposeanindividual.Iwouldgivethemmyaunt.MissBetseyTrotwood,thebestofhersex!

           Somebodywasleaningoutofmybedroomwindow,refreshinghisforeheadagainstthecoolstoneoftheparapet,andfeelingtheairuponhisface.Itwasmyself.Iwasaddressingmyselfas‘Copperfield’,andsaying,‘Whydidyoutrytosmoke?Youmighthaveknownyoucouldn’tdoit.’Now,somebodywasunsteadilycontemplatinghisfeaturesinthelooking-glass.ThatwasItoo.

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