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- Авторы
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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 616/820
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She
rose
with
an
ill
-
favoured
smile
,
and
taking
a
few
steps
towards
a
wall
of
holly
that
was
near
at
hand
,
dividing
the
lawn
from
a
kitchen
-
garden
,
said
,
in
a
louder
voice
,
‘
Come
here
!
’
—
as
if
she
were
calling
to
some
unclean
beast
.
‘
You
will
restrain
any
demonstrative
championship
or
vengeance
in
this
place
,
of
course
,
Mr
.
Copperfield
?
’
said
she
,
looking
over
her
shoulder
at
me
with
the
same
expression
.
I
inclined
my
head
,
without
knowing
what
she
meant
;
and
she
said
,
‘
Come
here
!
’
again
;
and
returned
,
followed
by
the
respectable
Mr
.
Littimer
,
who
,
with
undiminished
respectability
,
made
me
a
bow
,
and
took
up
his
position
behind
her
.
The
air
of
wicked
grace
:
of
triumph
,
in
which
,
strange
to
say
,
there
was
yet
something
feminine
and
alluring
:
with
which
she
reclined
upon
the
seat
between
us
,
and
looked
at
me
,
was
worthy
of
a
cruel
Princess
in
a
Legend
.
‘
Now
,
’
said
she
,
imperiously
,
without
glancing
at
him
,
and
touching
the
old
wound
as
it
throbbed
:
perhaps
,
in
this
instance
,
with
pleasure
rather
than
pain
.
‘
Tell
Mr
.
Copperfield
about
the
flight
.
’
‘
Mr
.
James
and
myself
,
ma
’
am
—
—
’
‘
Don
’
t
address
yourself
to
me
!
’
she
interrupted
with
a
frown
.
‘
Mr
.
James
and
myself
,
sir
—
—
’
‘
Nor
to
me
,
if
you
please
,
’
said
I
.
Mr
.
Littimer
,
without
being
at
all
discomposed
,
signified
by
a
slight
obeisance
,
that
anything
that
was
most
agreeable
to
us
was
most
agreeable
to
him
;
and
began
again
.
