Дэвид Копперфильд

The Beginning of a Long Journey

           Ihaveseenpassioninmanyforms,butIhaveneverseenitinsuchaformasthat.

           WhenIjoinedMr.Peggotty,hewaswalkingslowlyandthoughtfullydownthehill.Hetoldme,assoonasIcameupwithhim,thathavingnowdischargedhismindofwhathehadpurposeddoinginLondon,hemeant‘tosetoutonhistravels’,thatnight.Iaskedhimwherehemeanttogo?Heonlyanswered,‘I’magoing,sir,toseekmyniece.’

           Wewentbacktothelittlelodgingoverthechandler’sshop,andthereIfoundanopportunityofrepeatingtoPeggottywhathehadsaidtome.Sheinformedme,inreturn,thathehadsaidthesametoherthatmorning.SheknewnomorethanIdid,wherehewasgoing,butshethoughthehadsomeprojectshapedoutinhismind.

           Ididnotliketoleavehim,undersuchcircumstances,andweallthreedinedtogetheroffabeefsteakpiewhichwasoneofthemanygoodthingsforwhichPeggottywasfamousandwhichwascuriouslyflavouredonthisoccasion,Irecollectwell,byamiscellaneoustasteoftea,coffee,butter,bacon,cheese,newloaves,firewood,candles,andwalnutketchup,continuallyascendingfromtheshop.Afterdinnerwesatforanhourorsonearthewindow,withouttalkingmuch;andthenMr.Peggottygotup,andbroughthisoilskinbagandhisstoutstick,andlaidthemonthetable.

           Heaccepted,fromhissister’sstockofreadymoney,asmallsumonaccountofhislegacy;barelyenough,Ishouldhavethought,tokeephimforamonth.

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