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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Дэвид Копперфильд
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- Стр. 685/820
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‘
Why
,
what
a
question
!
’
cried
my
aunt
.
‘
What
a
fancy
!
’
said
I
.
‘
Yes
!
I
know
I
am
a
silly
little
thing
!
’
said
Dora
,
slowly
looking
from
one
of
us
to
the
other
,
and
then
putting
up
her
pretty
lips
to
kiss
us
as
she
lay
upon
her
couch
.
‘
Well
,
then
,
you
must
both
go
,
or
I
shall
not
believe
you
;
and
then
I
shall
cry
!
’
I
saw
,
in
my
aunt
’
s
face
,
that
she
began
to
give
way
now
,
and
Dora
brightened
again
,
as
she
saw
it
too
.
‘
You
’
ll
come
back
with
so
much
to
tell
me
,
that
it
’
ll
take
at
least
a
week
to
make
me
understand
!
’
said
Dora
.
‘
Because
I
know
I
shan
’
t
understand
,
for
a
length
of
time
,
if
there
’
s
any
business
in
it
.
And
there
’
s
sure
to
be
some
business
in
it
!
If
there
’
s
anything
to
add
up
,
besides
,
I
don
’
t
know
when
I
shall
make
it
out
;
and
my
bad
boy
will
look
so
miserable
all
the
time
.
There
!
Now
you
’
ll
go
,
won
’
t
you
?
You
’
ll
only
be
gone
one
night
,
and
Jip
will
take
care
of
me
while
you
are
gone
.
Doady
will
carry
me
upstairs
before
you
go
,
and
I
won
’
t
come
down
again
till
you
come
back
;
and
you
shall
take
Agnes
a
dreadfully
scolding
letter
from
me
,
because
she
has
never
been
to
see
us
!
’
We
agreed
,
without
any
more
consultation
,
that
we
would
both
go
,
and
that
Dora
was
a
little
Impostor
,
who
feigned
to
be
rather
unwell
,
because
she
liked
to
be
petted
.
She
was
greatly
pleased
,
and
very
merry
;
and
we
four
,
that
is
to
say
,
my
aunt
,
Mr
.
Dick
,
Traddles
,
and
I
,
went
down
to
Canterbury
by
the
Dover
mail
that
night
.
At
the
hotel
where
Mr
.
Micawber
had
requested
us
to
await
him
,
which
we
got
into
,
with
some
trouble
,
in
the
middle
of
the
night
,
I
found
a
letter
,
importing
that
he
would
appear
in
the
morning
punctually
at
half
past
nine
.
After
which
,
we
went
shivering
,
at
that
uncomfortable
hour
,
to
our
respective
beds
,
through
various
close
passages
;
which
smelt
as
if
they
had
been
steeped
,
for
ages
,
in
a
solution
of
soup
and
stables
.
Early
in
the
morning
,
I
sauntered
through
the
dear
old
tranquil
streets
,
and
again
mingled
with
the
shadows
of
the
venerable
gateways
and
churches
.
The
rooks
were
sailing
about
the
cathedral
towers
;
and
the
towers
themselves
,
overlooking
many
a
long
unaltered
mile
of
the
rich
country
and
its
pleasant
streams
,
were
cutting
the
bright
morning
air
,
as
if
there
were
no
such
thing
as
change
on
earth
.
Yet
the
bells
,
when
they
sounded
,
told
me
sorrowfully
of
change
in
everything
;
told
me
of
their
own
age
,
and
my
pretty
Dora
’
s
youth
;
and
of
the
many
,
never
old
,
who
had
lived
and
loved
and
died
,
while
the
reverberations
of
the
bells
had
hummed
through
the
rusty
armour
of
the
Black
Prince
hanging
up
within
,
and
,
motes
upon
the
deep
of
Time
,
had
lost
themselves
in
air
,
as
circles
do
in
water
.
