david copperfield(大卫.科波维尔)-第87节
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at him。 ‘You’re there； are you！ Oh； you naughty boy； fie for shame；
what do you do so far away from home？ Up to mischief； I’ll be
bound。 Oh； you’re a downy fellow； Steerforth； so you are； and I’m
another； ain’t I？ Ha； ha； ha！ You’d have betted a hundred pound to
five； now； that you wouldn’t have seen me here； wouldn’t you？
Bless you； man alive； I’m everywhere。 I’m here and there； and
where not； like the conjurer’s half…crown in the lady’s
handkercher。 Talking of handkerchers—and talking of ladies—
what a comfort you are to your blessed mother； ain’t you； my dear
boy； over one of my shoulders； and I don’t say which！’
Miss Mowcher untied her bonnet； at this passage of her
discourse； threw back the strings； and sat down； panting； on a
footstool in front of the fire—making a kind of arbour of the dining
table； which spread its mahogany shelter above her head。
‘Oh my stars and what’s…their…names！’ she went on； clapping a
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David Copperfield
hand on each of her little knees； and glancing shrewdly at me； ‘I’m
of too full a habit； that’s the fact； Steerforth。 After a flight of stairs；
it gives me as much trouble to draw every breath I want； as if it
was a bucket of water。 If you saw me looking out of an upper
window； you’d think I was a fine woman； wouldn’t you？’
‘I should think that； wherever I saw you；’ replied Steerforth。
‘Go along； you dog； do！’ cried the little creature； making a whisk
at him with the handkerchief with which she was wiping her face；
‘and don’t be impudent！ But I give you my word and honour I was
at Lady Mithers’s last week—there’s a woman！ How she wears！—
and Mithers himself came into the room where I was waiting for
her—there’s a man！ How he wears！ and his wig too； for he’s had it
these ten years—and he went on at that rate in the complimentary
line； that I began to think I should be obliged to ring the bell。 Ha！
ha！ ha！ He’s a pleasant wretch； but he wants principle。’
‘What were you doing for Lady Mithers？’ asked Steerforth。
‘That’s tellings； my blessed infant；’ she retorted； tapping her
nose again； screwing up her face； and twinkling her eyes like an
imp of supernatural intelligence。 ‘Never you mind！ You’d like to
know whether I stop her hair from falling off； or dye it； or touch up
her complexion； or improve her eyebrows； wouldn’t you？ And so
you shall； my darling—when I tell you！ Do you know what my
great grandfather’s name was？’
‘No；’ said Steerforth。
‘It was Walker； my sweet pet；’ replied Miss Mowcher； ‘and he
came of a long line of Walkers； that I inherit all the Hookey estates
from。’
I never beheld anything approaching to Miss Mowcher’s wink
except Miss Mowcher’s self…possession。 She had a wonderful way
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
David Copperfield
too； when listening to what was said to her； or when waiting for an
answer to what she had said herself； of pausing with her head
cunningly on one side； and one eye turned up like a magpie’s。
Altogether I was lost in amazement； and sat staring at her； quite
oblivious； I am afraid； of the laws of politeness。
She had by this time drawn the chair to her side； and was busily
engaged in producing from the bag （plunging in her short arm to
the shoulder； at every dive） a number of small bottles； sponges；
combs； brushes； bits of flannel； little pairs of curling…irons； and
other instruments； which she tumbled in a heap upon the chair。
From this employment she suddenly desisted； and said to
Steerforth； much to my confusion：
‘Who’s your friend？’
‘Mr。 Copperfield；’ said Steerforth； ‘he wants to know you。’
‘Well； then； he shall！ I thought he looked as if he did！’ returned
Miss Mowcher； waddling up to me； bag in hand； and laughing on
me as she came。 ‘Face like a peach！’ standing on tiptoe to pinch
my cheek as I sat。 ‘Quite tempting！ I’m very fond of peaches。
Happy to make your acquaintance； Mr。 Copperfield； I’m sure。’
I said that I congratulated myself on having the honour to make
hers； and that the happiness was mutual。
‘Oh； my goodness； how polite we are！’ exclaimed Miss
Mowcher； making a preposterous attempt to cover her large face
with her morsel of a hand。 ‘What a world of gammon and spinnage
it is； though； ain’t it！’
This was addressed confidentially to both of us； as the morsel of
a hand came away from the face； and buried itself； arm and all； in
the bag again。
‘What do you mean； Miss Mowcher？’ said Steerforth。
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David Copperfield
‘Ha！ ha！ ha！ What a refreshing set of humbugs we are； to be
sure； ain’t we； my sweet child？’ replied that morsel of a woman；
feeling in the bag with her head on one side and her eye in the air。
‘Look here！’ taking something out。 ‘Scraps of the Russian Prince’s
nails。 Prince Alphabet turned topsy…turvy； I call him； for his
name’s got all the letters in it； higgledy…piggledy。’
‘The Russian Prince is a client of yours； is he？’ said Steerforth。
‘I believe you； my pet；’ replied Miss Mowcher。 ‘I keep his nails
in order for him。 Twice a week！ Fingers and toes。’
‘He pays well； I hope？’ said Steerforth。
‘Pays； as he speaks； my dear child—through the nose；’ replied
Miss Mowcher。 ‘None of your close shavers the Prince ain’t。 You’d
say so； if you saw his moustachios。 Red by nature； black by art。’
‘By your art； of course；’ said Steerforth。
Miss Mowcher winked assent。 ‘Forced to send for me。 Couldn’t
help it。 The climate affected his dye； it did very well in Russia； but
it was no go here。 You never saw such a rusty Prince in all your
born days as he was。 Like old iron！’
‘Is that why you called him a humbug； just now？’ inquired
Steerforth。
‘Oh； you’re a broth of a boy； ain’t you？’ returned Miss Mowcher；
shaking her head violently。 ‘I said； what a set of humbugs we were
in general； and I showed you the scraps of the Prince’s nails to
prove it。 The Prince’s nails do more for me in private families of
the genteel sort； than all my talents put together。 I always carry
’em about。 They’re the best introduction。 If Miss Mowcher cuts the
Prince’s nails； she must be all right。 I give ’em away to the young
ladies。 They put ’em in albums； I believe。 Ha！ ha！ ha！ Upon my life；
“the whole social system” （as the men call it when they make
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David Copperfield
speeches in Parliament） is a system of Prince’s nails！’ said this
least of women； trying to fold her short arms； and nodding her
large head。
Steerforth laughed heartily； and I laughed too。 Miss Mowcher
continuing all the time to shake her head （which was very much
on one side）； and to look into the air with one eye； and to wink
with the other。
‘Well； well！’ she said； smiting her small knees； and rising； ‘this is
not business。 Come； Steerforth； let’s explore the polar regions； and
have it over。’
She then selected two or three of the little instruments； and a
little bottle； and asked （to my surprise） if the table would bear。 On
Steerforth’s replying in the affirmative； she pushed a chair against
it； and begging the assistance of my hand； mounted up； pretty
nimbly； to the top； as if it were a stage。
‘If either of you saw my ankles；’ she said； when she was safely
elevated； ‘say so； and I’ll go home and destroy myself！’
‘I did not；’ said Steerforth。
‘I did not；’ said I。
‘Well then；’ cried Miss Mowcher；’ I’ll consent to live。 Now；
ducky； ducky； ducky； come to Mrs。 Bond and be killed。’
This was an invocation to Steerforth to place himself under her
hands； who； accordingly； sat himself down； with his back to the
table； and his laughing face towards me； and submitted his head to
her inspection； evidently for no other purpose than our
entertainment。 To see Miss Mowcher standing over him； looking
at his rich profusion of brown hair through a large round
magnifying glass； which she took out of her pocket； was a most
amazing spectacle。
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David Copperfield
‘You’re a pretty fellow！’ said Miss Mowcher； after a brief
inspection。 ‘You’d be as bald as a friar on the top of your head in
twelve months； but for me。 just half a minute； my young friend；
and we’ll give you a polishing that shall keep your curls on for the
next ten years！’
With this； she tilted some of the contents of the little bottle on to
one of the little bits of flannel； and； again imparting some of the
virtues of that preparation to one of the little brushes； began
rubbing and scraping away with both on the crown of Steerforth’s
head in the busiest manner I ever witnessed； talking all the time。
‘There’s Charley Pyegrave； the duke’s son；’ she said。 ‘You know
Charley？’ peeping round into his face。
‘A little；’ said Steerforth。
‘What a man he is！ There’s a whisker！ As to Charley’s legs； if
they were only a pair （which they ain’t）； they’d defy competition。
Woul
