Дэвид Копперфильд

The Beginning of a Long Journey

           ButwhatneedIknoworcareaboutthisfellow,andhiscommonniece?’

           ‘MissDartle,’Ireturned,‘youdeepentheinjury.Itissufficientalready.Iwillonlysay,atparting,thatyoudohimagreatwrong.’

           ‘Idohimnowrong,’shereturned.‘Theyareadepraved,worthlessset.Iwouldhaveherwhipped!’

           Mr.Peggottypassedon,withoutaword,andwentoutatthedoor.

           ‘Oh,shame,MissDartle!shame!’Isaidindignantly.‘Howcanyoubeartotrampleonhisundeservedaffliction!’

           ‘Iwouldtrampleonthemall,’sheanswered.‘Iwouldhavehishousepulleddown.Iwouldhaveherbrandedontheface,dressedinrags,andcastoutinthestreetstostarve.IfIhadthepowertositinjudgementonher,Iwouldseeitdone.Seeitdone?Iwoulddoit!Idetesther.IfIevercouldreproachherwithherinfamouscondition,Iwouldgoanywheretodoso.IfIcouldhunthertohergrave,Iwould.Iftherewasanywordofcomfortthatwouldbeasolacetoherinherdyinghour,andonlyIpossessedit,Iwouldn’tpartwithitforLifeitself.’

           Themerevehemenceofherwordscanconvey,Iamsensible,butaweakimpressionofthepassionbywhichshewaspossessed,andwhichmadeitselfarticulateinherwholefigure,thoughhervoice,insteadofbeingraised,waslowerthanusual.NodescriptionIcouldgiveofherwoulddojusticetomyrecollectionofher,ortoherentiredeliveranceofherselftoheranger.

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