Тяжкі часи

Mr. Bounderby

           Gradgrindonthecircumstanceofitsbeinghisbirthday.Hestoodbeforethefire,partlybecauseitwasacoolspringafternoon,thoughthesunshone;partlybecausetheshadeofStoneLodgewasalwayshauntedbytheghostofdampmortar;partlybecausehethustookupacommandingposition,fromwhichtosubdueMrs.Gradgrind.

           ‘Ihadn’tashoetomyfoot.Astoastocking,Ididn’tknowsuchathingbyname.Ipassedthedayinaditch,andthenightinapigsty.That’sthewayIspentmytenthbirthday.Notthataditchwasnewtome,forIwasborninaditch.’

           Mrs.Gradgrind,alittle,thin,white,pink-eyedbundleofshawls,ofsurpassingfeebleness,mentalandbodily;whowasalwaystakingphysicwithoutanyeffect,andwho,wheneversheshowedasymptomofcomingtolife,wasinvariablystunnedbysomeweightypieceoffacttumblingonher;Mrs.Gradgrindhopeditwasadryditch?

           ‘No!Aswetasasop.Afootofwaterinit,’saidMr.Bounderby.

           ‘Enoughtogiveababycold,’Mrs.Gradgrindconsidered.

           ‘Cold?Iwasbornwithinflammationofthelungs,andofeverythingelse,Ibelieve,thatwascapableofinflammation,’returnedMr.Bounderby.‘Foryears,ma’am,Iwasoneofthemostmiserablelittlewretcheseverseen.Iwassosickly,thatIwasalwaysmoaningandgroaning.Iwassoraggedanddirty,thatyouwouldn’thavetouchedmewithapairoftongs.’

           Mrs.Gradgrindfaintlylookedatthetongs,asthemostappropriatethingherimbecilitycouldthinkofdoing.

           ‘HowIfoughtthroughit,Idon’tknow,’saidBounderby.

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