Дэвид Копперфильд

I Assist at an Explosion

           

           ‘But,myUry

           ‘Willyouholdyourtongue,mother,andleaveittome?’

           ThoughIhadlongknownthathisservilitywasfalse,andallhispretencesknavishandhollow,Ihadhadnoadequateconceptionoftheextentofhishypocrisy,untilInowsawhimwithhismaskoff.Thesuddennesswithwhichhedroppedit,whenheperceivedthatitwasuselesstohim;themalice,insolence,andhatred,herevealed;theleerwithwhichheexulted,evenatthismoment,intheevilhehaddoneallthistimebeingdesperatetoo,andathiswits’endforthemeansofgettingthebetterofusthoughperfectlyconsistentwiththeexperienceIhadofhim,atfirsttookevenmebysurprise,whohadknownhimsolong,anddislikedhimsoheartily.

           Isaynothingofthelookheconferredonme,ashestoodeyeingus,oneafteranother;forIhadalwaysunderstoodthathehatedme,andIrememberedthemarksofmyhanduponhischeek.ButwhenhiseyespassedontoAgnes,andIsawtheragewithwhichhefelthispoweroverherslippingaway,andtheexhibition,intheirdisappointment,oftheodiouspassionsthathadledhimtoaspiretoonewhosevirtueshecouldneverappreciateorcarefor,Iwasshockedbythemerethoughtofherhavinglived,anhour,withinsightofsuchaman.

           Aftersomerubbingofthelowerpartofhisface,andsomelookingatuswiththosebadeyes,overhisgrislyfingers,hemadeonemoreaddresstome,halfwhining,andhalfabusive.

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