Девід Копперфільд

I Am Sent Away from Home

           ‘Do!’

           TheMaster,uponthis,puthishandunderneaththeskirtsofhiscoat,andbroughtouthisfluteinthreepieces,whichhescrewedtogether,andbeganimmediatelytoplay.Myimpressionis,aftermanyyearsofconsideration,thattherenevercanhavebeenanybodyintheworldwhoplayedworse.HemadethemostdismalsoundsIhaveeverheardproducedbyanymeans,naturalorartificial.Idon’tknowwhatthetuneswereifthereweresuchthingsintheperformanceatall,whichIdoubtbuttheinfluenceofthestrainuponmewas,first,tomakemethinkofallmysorrowsuntilIcouldhardlykeepmytearsback;thentotakeawaymyappetite;andlastly,tomakemesosleepythatIcouldn’tkeepmyeyesopen.Theybegintocloseagain,andIbegintonod,astherecollectionrisesfreshuponme.Oncemorethelittleroom,withitsopencornercupboard,anditssquare-backedchairs,anditsangularlittlestaircaseleadingtotheroomabove,anditsthreepeacock’sfeathersdisplayedoverthemantelpieceIrememberwonderingwhenIfirstwentin,whatthatpeacockwouldhavethoughtifhehadknownwhathisfinerywasdoomedtocometofadesfrombeforeme,andInod,andsleep.Theflutebecomesinaudible,thewheelsofthecoachareheardinstead,andIamonmyjourney.Thecoachjolts,Iwakewithastart,andtheflutehascomebackagain,andtheMasteratSalemHouseissittingwithhislegscrossed,playingitdolefully,whiletheoldwomanofthehouselooksondelighted.

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Roboto Lora
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