Дэвид Копперфильд

A Retrospect

           Ecstasy!Whataremyagonyandindignationnextday,whenIhearaflyingrumourthattheMissesNettingallhavestoodMissShepherdinthestocksforturninginhertoes!

           MissShepherdbeingtheonepervadingthemeandvisionofmylife,howdoIevercometobreakwithher?Ican’tconceive.AndyetacoolnessgrowsbetweenMissShepherdandmyself.WhispersreachmeofMissShepherdhavingsaidshewishedIwouldn’tstareso,andhavingavowedapreferenceforMasterJones—forJones!aboyofnomeritwhatever!ThegulfbetweenmeandMissShepherdwidens.Atlast,oneday,ImeettheMissesNettingalls’establishmentoutwalking.MissShepherdmakesafaceasshegoesby,andlaughstohercompanion.Allisover.Thedevotionofalifeitseemsalife,itisallthesame—isatanend;MissShepherdcomesoutofthemorningservice,andtheRoyalFamilyknowhernomore.

           Iamhigherintheschool,andnoonebreaksmypeace.Iamnotatallpolite,now,totheMissesNettingalls’youngladies,andshouldn’tdoteonanyofthem,iftheyweretwiceasmanyandtwentytimesasbeautiful.Ithinkthedancing-schoolatiresomeaffair,andwonderwhythegirlscan’tdancebythemselvesandleaveusalone.IamgrowinggreatinLatinverses,andneglectthelacesofmyboots.DoctorStrongreferstomeinpublicasapromisingyoungscholar.Mr.Dickiswildwithjoy,andmyauntremitsmeaguineabythenextpost.

           Theshadeofayoungbutcherrises,liketheapparitionofanarmedheadinMacbeth.

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