Дэвид Копперфильд

I Fall into Disgrace

           Murdstone,andbegins,‘IfIgointoacheesemonger’sshop,andbuyfivethousanddouble-Gloucestercheesesatfourpence-halfpennyeach,presentpayment’atwhichIseeMissMurdstonesecretlyoverjoyed.Iporeoverthesecheeseswithoutanyresultorenlightenmentuntildinner-time,when,havingmadeaMulattoofmyselfbygettingthedirtoftheslateintotheporesofmyskin,Ihaveasliceofbreadtohelpmeoutwiththecheeses,andamconsideredindisgracefortherestoftheevening.

           Itseemstome,atthisdistanceoftime,asifmyunfortunatestudiesgenerallytookthiscourse.IcouldhavedoneverywellifIhadbeenwithouttheMurdstones;buttheinfluenceoftheMurdstonesuponmewaslikethefascinationoftwosnakesonawretchedyoungbird.EvenwhenIdidgetthroughthemorningwithtolerablecredit,therewasnotmuchgainedbutdinner;forMissMurdstonenevercouldenduretoseemeuntasked,andifIrashlymadeanyshowofbeingunemployed,calledherbrother’sattentiontomebysaying,‘Clara,mydear,there’snothinglikeworkgiveyourboyanexercise’;whichcausedmetobeclappeddowntosomenewlabour,thereandthen.Astoanyrecreationwithotherchildrenofmyage,Ihadverylittleofthat;forthegloomytheologyoftheMurdstonesmadeallchildrenouttobeaswarmoflittlevipers(thoughthereWASachildoncesetinthemidstoftheDisciples),andheldthattheycontaminatedoneanother.

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