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At length, as I was looking out at the Little Britain, I saw Mr. Jaggers coming across the road towards me.
My guardian then took me into his own room, and while he lunched, informed me what arrangements he had made for me. I was to go to “Barnard’s Inn,[94 - Barnard’s Inn – «Подворье Барнарда»]” to young Mr. Pocket’s rooms, where a bed had been sent in for my accommodation. “You will find your credit good, Mr. Pip,” said my guardian, but I shall by this means be able to check your bills.”
I asked Mr. Jaggers if I could send for a coach? He said it was not worth while, I was so near my destination; Wemmick[95 - Wemmick – Уэммик] should walk round with me.
Chapter 21
Mr. Wemmick was a dry man, rather short in stature, with a square wooden face.
“So you were never in London before?” said Mr. Wemmick to me.
“No,” said I.
“I was new here once,” said Mr. Wemmick.
“You are well acquainted with it now?”
“Why, yes,” said Mr. Wemmick.
“Is it a very wicked place?” I asked, more for the sake[96 - for the sake – ради] of saying something than for information.
“You may get cheated, robbed, and murdered in London. But there are plenty of people anywhere, who’ll do that for you.”
His mouth was such a post-office of a mouth that he had a mechanical appearance of smiling.
“Do you know where Mr. Matthew Pocket lives?” I asked Mr. Wemmick.
“Yes,” said he, nodding in the direction. “At Hammersmith,[97 - Hammersmith – Хэммерсмит] west of London.”
“Is that far?”
“Well! Say five miles.”
“Do you know him?”
“Yes, I know him. I know him!”
Barnard’s Inn. I had supposed that establishment to be an hotel kept by Mr. Barnard. I found Barnard to be a disembodied spirit, or a fiction, and his inn the dingiest collection of shabby buildings ever squeezed together.
I looked in dismay at Mr. Wemmick. “Ah!” said he; “the retirement reminds you of the country.”
He led me into a corner and conducted me up a flight of stairs – to a set of chambers on the top floor. MR. POCKET, JUN., was painted on the door, and there was a label on the letter-box, “Return shortly.[98 - Return shortly. – Скоро вернусь.]”
“You don’t want me any more?” asked Mr. Wemmick.
“No, thank you,” said I.
“As I keep the cash,” Mr. Wemmick observed, “we shall most likely meet pretty often. Good day.”
“Good day.”
I put out my hand, and Mr. Wemmick at first looked at it as if he thought I wanted something. Then he looked at me, and said, correcting himself —
“To be sure! Yes. You’re in the habit of shaking hands?”
I was rather confused, thinking it must be out of the London fashion, but said yes.
When we had shaken hands and he was gone, I opened the staircase window. Mr. Pocket, Junior, returned in half an hour. He had a paper-bag under each arm and some strawberries in one hand, and was out of breath.
“Mr. Pip?” said he.
“Mr. Pocket?” said I.
“Dear me!” he exclaimed. “I am extremely sorry. The fact is, I have been out on your account – for I thought, coming from the country, you might like a little fruit after dinner, and I went to Covent Garden Market[99 - Covent Garden Market – Ковент-Гарденский рынок] to get it good. Pray come in, allow me to lead the way. We might like to take a walk about London. I am sure I shall be very happy to show London to you. As to our table, you won’t find that bad, I hope, for it will be supplied from our coffee-house here,[100 - from our coffee-house here – из ближайшего трактира] and at your expense,[101 - at your expense – за ваш счёт] such being Mr. Jaggers’s directions. As to our lodging, it’s not by any means splendid, because I have my own bread to earn, and my father hasn’t anything to give me, and I shouldn’t be willing to take it, if he had. This is our sitting-room – just such chairs and tables and carpet and so forth, you see. This is your bedroom; the furniture’s hired for the occasion, but I trust it will answer the purpose; if you should want anything, I’ll go and fetch it. The chambers are retired, and we shall be alone together, but we shan’t fight, I dare say. But, I beg your pardon, you’re holding the fruit all this time. Pray let me take these bags from you. I am quite ashamed.”
Suddenly Mr. Pocket, Junior, said, falling back —
“Lord bless me, you’re the prowling boy!”
“And you,” said I, “are the pale young gentleman!”
Chapter 22
The pale young gentleman and I stood contemplating one another in Barnard’s Inn, until we both burst out laughing.
“Well!” said the pale young gentleman, reaching out his hand good-humoredly, “it’s all over now, I hope you’ll forgive me.”
I derived from this speech that Mr. Herbert Pocket[102 - Herbert Pocket – Герберт Покет] (for Herbert was the pale young gentleman’s name) did not remember anything.
“Miss Havisham had sent for me, to see if she could take a fancy to me. But she couldn’t – she didn’t.”
I thought it polite to remark that I was surprised to hear that.
“Bad taste,” said Herbert, laughing, “but a fact. Yes, she had sent for me on a trial visit, and if I had come out of it successfully, I suppose I should have been provided for; perhaps I should have been engaged to Estella.”
“How did you bear your disappointment?” I asked.
“Pooh!” said he, “I didn’t care much for it. She’s a Tartar.[103 - Tartar – тиран]”
“Miss Havisham?”
“I don’t say no to that, but I meant Estella. That girl’s hard and haughty and capricious to the last degree, and has been brought up by Miss Havisham to wreak revenge on all the male sex.[104 - to wreak revenge on all the male sex – отомстить всей мужской половине рода человеческого]”
“What relation is she to Miss Havisham?”
“None,” said he. “Only adopted.”
“Why should she wreak revenge on all the male sex? What revenge?”
“Lord, Mr. Pip!” said he. “Don’t you know?”
“No,” said I.
“Dear me! It’s quite a story, and shall be saved till dinner-time. And now let me take the liberty of asking you a question. How did you come there, that day?”
I told him, and he was attentive until I had finished, and then burst out laughing again.
“Mr. Jaggers is your guardian, I understand?” he went on.
“Yes.”
“You know he is Miss Havisham’s man of business and solicitor, and has her confidence when nobody else has?”
I answered with a constraint, that I had seen Mr. Jaggers in Miss Havisham’s house on the very day of our combat, but never at any other time.
“He was so obliging[105 - he was so obliging – он был так любезен] as to suggest my father for your tutor, and he called on my father to propose it. Of course he knew about my father from his connection with Miss Havisham. My father is Miss Havisham’s cousin.”
Herbert Pocket was still a pale young gentleman. He had not a handsome face, but it was better than handsome: being extremely amiable and cheerful.
As he was so communicative, I told him my small story, and stressed on my being forbidden to inquire who my benefactor was. I further mentioned that as I had been brought up a blacksmith in a country place, and knew very little of the ways of politeness, I would take it as a great kindness in him if he would give me a hint whenever he saw going wrong.
“With pleasure,” said he, “Will you do me the favour to begin at once to call me by my Christian name, Herbert?”
I thanked him and said I would. I informed him in exchange that my Christian name was Philip.
“No,” said he, smiling, “Would you mind Handel[106 - Handel – Гендель] for a familiar name? There’s a charming piece of music by Handel, called the Harmonious Blacksmith.[107 - Harmonious Blacksmith – «Гармонический кузнец» (название пьесы немецкого и английского композитора эпохи барокко Г.Ф. Генделя)]”
“I should like it very much.”
“Then, my dear Handel,” said he, turning round as the door opened, “here is the dinner!”
It was a nice little dinner. Everything made the feast delightful. We had made some progress in the dinner, when I reminded Herbert of his promise to tell me about Miss Havisham.
“True,” he replied. “ Let me introduce the topic, Handel, by mentioning that in London it is not the custom to put the knife in the mouth – for fear of accidents – and that while the fork is reserved for that use. Also, the spoon is not generally used over-hand, but under.[108 - the spoon is not generally used over-hand, but under – ложку лучше захватывать пальцами не сверху, а снизу]”
He offered these friendly suggestions in such a lively way, that we both laughed and I scarcely blushed.
“Now,” he pursued, “concerning Miss Havisham. Miss Havisham, you must know, was a spoilt child. Her mother died when she was a baby, and her father denied her nothing.[109 - denied her nothing – ни в чём ей не отказывал] Her father was a country gentleman down in your part of the world, and was a brewer. Well! Mr. Havisham was very rich and very proud. So was his daughter.”
“Miss Havisham was an only child?” I hazarded.
“Stop a moment, I am coming to that. No, she was not an only child; she had a half-brother.[110 - a half-brother – сводный брат] Her father privately married again – his cook, I rather think.”
“I thought he was proud,” said I.
“My good Handel, so he was. He married his second wife privately, because he was proud, and in course of time she died. When she was dead, I apprehend he first told his daughter what he had done, and then the son became a part of the family, residing in the house you are acquainted with. As the son grew a young man, he turned out riotous, extravagant – altogether bad. At last his father disinherited him; but he softened when he was dying, and gave him something, though less than to Miss Havisham. Miss Havisham was now an heiress.[111 - Miss Havisham was now an heiress. – Мисс Хэвишем стала теперь наследницей.] Her half-brother had debts. There were stronger differences between him and her than there had been between him and his father. Now, I come to the cruel part of the story. There appeared a certain man, who made love to Miss Havisham. I never saw him (for this happened five-and-twenty years ago, before you and I were, Handel), but I have heard my father mention that he was a showy man.[112 - a showy man – видный мужчина] Well! This man pursued Miss Havisham closely. And she passionately loved him. There is no doubt that she perfectly idolized him. Your guardian was not at that time in Miss Havisham’s counsels, and she was too haughty and too much in love to be advised by any one. Her relations were poor, with the exception of my father; he was poor enough, but not jealous. The only independent one among them, he warned her that she was doing too much for this man. She took the first opportunity of angrily ordering my father out of the house, in his presence, and my father has never seen her since.”
I thought of her having said, “Matthew will come and see me at last when I am laid dead upon that table;” and I asked Herbert whether his father was so inveterate against her?
“It’s not that,” said he, “To return to the man and make an end of him. The marriage day was fixed, the wedding dresses were bought, the wedding tour was planned out, the wedding guests were invited. The day came, but not the bridegroom. He wrote her a letter – ”
“Which she received,” I struck in, “when she was dressing for her marriage? At twenty minutes to nine?”
“At the hour and minute,” said Herbert, nodding, “at which she afterwards stopped all the clocks.”
“Is that all the story?” I asked.
“All I know of it. But I have forgotten one thing. It has been supposed that the man to whom she gave her misplaced confidence acted throughout in concert[113 - acted throughout in concert – действовал заодно] with her half-brother; that it was a conspiracy between them; and that they shared the profits.”
“I wonder he didn’t marry her and get all the property,” said I.
“He may have been married already,” said Herbert. “But I don’t know that.”
“What became of the two men?” I asked, after considering the subject.
“They fell into deeper shame and degradation – if there can be deeper – and ruin.”
“Are they alive now?”
“I don’t know.”
“You said just now that Estella was not related to Miss Havisham, but adopted. When adopted?”
Herbert shrugged his shoulders. “There has always been an Estella, since I have heard of a Miss Havisham. I know no more. And now, Handel, all that I know about Miss Havisham, you know.”
“And all that I know,” I retorted, “you know.”
On the Monday morning at a quarter before nine, Herbert went to the counting-house. He was to come away in an hour or two to attend me to Hammersmith, and I was to wait about for him. We went back to Barnard’s Inn and got my little bag, and then took coach for Hammersmith. We arrived there at two or three o’clock in the afternoon, and had very little way to walk to Mr. Pocket’s house. Lifting the latch of a gate, we passed direct into a little garden overlooking the river, where Mr. Pocket’s children were playing about.
Mrs. Pocket was sitting on a garden chair under a tree, reading, with her legs upon another garden chair; and Mrs. Pocket’s two nurse-maids were looking about them while the children played. “Mamma,” said Herbert, “this is young Mr. Pip.”
Chapter 23
Mr. Pocket said he was glad to see me, and he hoped I was not sorry to see him. He was a young-looking man, in spite of his very gray hair, and his manner seemed quite natural. When he had talked with me a little, he said to Mrs. Pocket, “Belinda,[114 - Belinda – Белинда] I hope you have welcomed Mr. Pip?[115 - you have welcomed Mr. Pip – ты познакомилась с мистером Пипом]” And she looked up from her book, and said, “Yes.”
I found out within a few hours, that Mrs. Pocket was the only daughter of a certain gentleman. The young lady had grown up highly ornamental, but perfectly helpless and useless. I learnt, and chiefly from Herbert, that Mr. Pocket had been educated at Harrow[116 - Harrow – Хэрроу (одна из известнейших и старейших британских публичных школ для мальчиков)] and at Cambridge;[117 - Cambridge – Кембридж] and he had had the happiness of marrying Mrs. Pocket very early in life.
After dinner the children were introduced. There were four little girls, and two little boys. One of the little girls have prematurely taken upon herself some charge of the others.
I looked awkwardly at the tablecloth while this was going on. A pause succeeded. But the time was going on, and soon the evening came.
There was a sofa where Mr. Pocket stood, and he dropped upon it in the attitude of the Dying Gladiator.[118 - Dying Gladiator – умирающий гладиатор] Still in that attitude he said, with a hollow voice, “Good night, Mr. Pip.” So I decided to go to bed and leave him.
Chapter 24
After two or three days, when I had established myself in my room, Mr. Pocket and I had a long talk together. He knew more of my intended career than I knew myself.
He advised my attending certain places in London. Through his way of saying this, and much more to similar purpose, he placed himself on confidential terms with me in an admirable manner.
