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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 261/820
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Being
then
in
a
pleasant
frame
of
mind
(
from
which
I
infer
that
poisoning
is
not
always
disagreeable
in
some
stages
of
the
process
)
,
I
resolved
to
go
to
the
play
.
It
was
Covent
Garden
Theatre
that
I
chose
;
and
there
,
from
the
back
of
a
centre
box
,
I
saw
Julius
Caesar
and
the
new
Pantomime
.
To
have
all
those
noble
Romans
alive
before
me
,
and
walking
in
and
out
for
my
entertainment
,
instead
of
being
the
stern
taskmasters
they
had
been
at
school
,
was
a
most
novel
and
delightful
effect
.
But
the
mingled
reality
and
mystery
of
the
whole
show
,
the
influence
upon
me
of
the
poetry
,
the
lights
,
the
music
,
the
company
,
the
smooth
stupendous
changes
of
glittering
and
brilliant
scenery
,
were
so
dazzling
,
and
opened
up
such
illimitable
regions
of
delight
,
that
when
I
came
out
into
the
rainy
street
,
at
twelve
o
’
clock
at
night
,
I
felt
as
if
I
had
come
from
the
clouds
,
where
I
had
been
leading
a
romantic
life
for
ages
,
to
a
bawling
,
splashing
,
link
-
lighted
,
umbrella
-
struggling
,
hackney
-
coach
-
jostling
,
patten
-
clinking
,
muddy
,
miserable
world
.
I
had
emerged
by
another
door
,
and
stood
in
the
street
for
a
little
while
,
as
if
I
really
were
a
stranger
upon
earth
:
but
the
unceremonious
pushing
and
hustling
that
I
received
,
soon
recalled
me
to
myself
,
and
put
me
in
the
road
back
to
the
hotel
;
whither
I
went
,
revolving
the
glorious
vision
all
the
way
;
and
where
,
after
some
porter
and
oysters
,
I
sat
revolving
it
still
,
at
past
one
o
’
clock
,
with
my
eyes
on
the
coffee
-
room
fire
.
I
was
so
filled
with
the
play
,
and
with
the
past
—
for
it
was
,
in
a
manner
,
like
a
shining
transparency
,
through
which
I
saw
my
earlier
life
moving
along
—
that
I
don
’
t
know
when
the
figure
of
a
handsome
well
-
formed
young
man
dressed
with
a
tasteful
easy
negligence
which
I
have
reason
to
remember
very
well
,
became
a
real
presence
to
me
.
But
I
recollect
being
conscious
of
his
company
without
having
noticed
his
coming
in
—
and
my
still
sitting
,
musing
,
over
the
coffee
-
room
fire
.
At
last
I
rose
to
go
to
bed
,
much
to
the
relief
of
the
sleepy
waiter
,
who
had
got
the
fidgets
in
his
legs
,
and
was
twisting
them
,
and
hitting
them
,
and
putting
them
through
all
kinds
of
contortions
in
his
small
pantry
.
In
going
towards
the
door
,
I
passed
the
person
who
had
come
in
,
and
saw
him
plainly
.
I
turned
directly
,
came
back
,
and
looked
again
.
He
did
not
know
me
,
but
I
knew
him
in
a
moment
.
At
another
time
I
might
have
wanted
the
confidence
or
the
decision
to
speak
to
him
,
and
might
have
put
it
off
until
next
day
,
and
might
have
lost
him
.
But
,
in
the
then
condition
of
my
mind
,
where
the
play
was
still
running
high
,
his
former
protection
of
me
appeared
so
deserving
of
my
gratitude
,
and
my
old
love
for
him
overflowed
my
breast
so
freshly
and
spontaneously
,
that
I
went
up
to
him
at
once
,
with
a
fast
-
beating
heart
,
and
said
:
‘
Steerforth
!
won
’
t
you
speak
to
me
?
’
He
looked
at
me
—
just
as
he
used
to
look
,
sometimes
—
but
I
saw
no
recognition
in
his
face
.
‘
You
don
’
t
remember
me
,
I
am
afraid
,
’
said
I
.
‘
My
God
!
’
he
suddenly
exclaimed
.
‘
It
’
s
little
Copperfield
!
’
