Дэвид Копперфильд

I Fall into Disgrace

           

           HewalkedmeuptomyroomslowlyandgravelyIamcertainhehadadelightinthatformalparadeofexecutingjusticeandwhenwegotthere,suddenlytwistedmyheadunderhisarm.

           ‘Mr.Murdstone!Sir!’Icriedtohim.‘Don’t!Praydon’tbeatme!Ihavetriedtolearn,sir,butIcan’tlearnwhileyouandMissMurdstoneareby.Ican’tindeed!’

           ‘Can’tyou,indeed,David?’hesaid.‘We’lltrythat.’

           Hehadmyheadasinavice,butItwinedroundhimsomehow,andstoppedhimforamoment,entreatinghimnottobeatme.ItwasonlyamomentthatIstoppedhim,forhecutmeheavilyaninstantafterwards,andinthesameinstantIcaughtthehandwithwhichheheldmeinmymouth,betweenmyteeth,andbititthrough.Itsetsmyteethonedgetothinkofit.

           Hebeatmethen,asifhewouldhavebeatenmetodeath.Aboveallthenoisewemade,Iheardthemrunningupthestairs,andcryingoutIheardmymothercryingoutandPeggotty.Thenhewasgone;andthedoorwaslockedoutside;andIwaslying,feveredandhot,andtorn,andsore,andraginginmypunyway,uponthefloor.

           HowwellIrecollect,whenIbecamequiet,whatanunnaturalstillnessseemedtoreignthroughthewholehouse!HowwellIremember,whenmysmartandpassionbegantocool,howwickedIbegantofeel!

           Isatlisteningforalongwhile,buttherewasnotasound.

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Roboto Lora
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