Большие ожидания

Chapter 4

           NotbecauseIwassqueezedinatanacuteangleofthetablecloth,withthetableinmychest,andthePumblechookianelbowinmyeye,norbecauseIwasnotallowedtospeak(Ididn’twanttospeak),norbecauseIwasregaledwiththescalytipsofthedrumsticksofthefowls,andwiththoseobscurecornersofporkofwhichthepig,whenliving,hadhadtheleastreasontobevain.No;Ishouldnothavemindedthat,iftheywouldonlyhaveleftmealone.Buttheywouldn’tleavemealone.Theyseemedtothinktheopportunitylost,iftheyfailedtopointtheconversationatme,everynowandthen,andstickthepointintome.ImighthavebeenanunfortunatelittlebullinaSpanisharena,Igotsosmartinglytouchedupbythesemoralgoads.

           Itbeganthemomentwesatdowntodinner.Mr.Wopslesaidgracewiththeatricaldeclamation—asitnowappearstome,somethinglikeareligiouscrossoftheGhostinHamletwithRichardtheThird—andendedwiththeveryproperaspirationthatwemightbetrulygrateful.Uponwhichmysisterfixedmewithhereye,andsaid,inalowreproachfulvoice,"Doyouhearthat?Begrateful."

           "Especially,"saidMr.Pumblechook,"begrateful,boy,tothemwhichbroughtyouupbyhand."

           Mrs.Hubbleshookherhead,andcontemplatingmewithamournfulpresentimentthatIshouldcometonogood,asked,"Whyisitthattheyoungarenevergrateful?"ThismoralmysteryseemedtoomuchforthecompanyuntilMr.Hubbleterselysolveditbysaying,"Naterallywicious.

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