Дэвид Копперфильд

A Greater Loss

           There’sababbyfuryou,intheformofagreatSeaPorkypine!’saidMr.Peggotty,relievinghisearnestnesswitharoaroflaughter.

           PeggottyandIbothlaughed,butnotsoloud.

           ‘It’smyopinion,yousee,’saidMr.Peggotty,withadelightedface,aftersomefurtherrubbingofhislegs,‘asthisisalongofmyhavin’playedwithhersomuch,andmadebelieveaswewasTurks,andFrench,andsharks,andeverywarietyofforinnersblessyou,yes;andlionsandwhales,andIdoen’tknowwhatall!-whenshewarn’tnohigherthanmyknee.I’vegotintothewayonit,youknow.Why,thisherecandle,now!’saidMr.Peggotty,gleefullyholdingouthishandtowardsit,‘Iknowwerywellthatartershe’smarriedandgone,Ishallputthatcandletheer,justthesameasnow.IknowwerywellthatwhenI’mhereo’nights(andwhereelseshouldIlive,blessyourarts,whateverfortun’Icomeinto!)andsheain’thereorIain’ttheer,Ishallputthecandleinthewinder,andsitaforethefire,pretendingI’mexpectingofher,likeI’madoingnow.THERE’Sababbyforyou,’saidMr.Peggotty,withanotherroar,‘intheformofaSeaPorkypine!Why,atthepresentminute,whenIseethecandlesparkleup,Isaystomyself,“She’salookingatit!Em’ly’sacoming!”THERE’Sababbyforyou,intheformofaSeaPorkypine!Rightforallthat,’saidMr.Peggotty,stoppinginhisroar,andsmitinghishandstogether;‘furheresheis!’

           ItwasonlyHam.

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