Chapter 9
When I reached home, my sister was very curious to know all about Miss Havisham’s, and
asked a number of questions. I felt convinced that if I described Miss Havisham’s as my eyes had
seen it, I should not be understood. Consequently, I said as little as I could.
The worst of it was that that old Pumblechook came gaping over in his chaise-cart at tea-time,
to have the details divulged to him.
“Well, boy,” Uncle Pumblechook began, as soon as he was seated in the chair of honor
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by
the fire. “How did you get on up town?
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”
I answered, “Pretty well, sir,” and my sister shook her fist at me.
“Pretty well?” Mr. Pumblechook repeated. “Pretty well is no answer. Tell us what you mean
by pretty well, boy?”
I reflected for some time, and then answered as if I had discovered a new idea, “I mean pretty
well.”
My sister with an exclamation of impatience was going to fly at me, – I had no shadow of
defence, for Joe was busy in the forge – when Mr. Pumblechook interposed with “No! Don’t lose
your temper. Leave this lad to me, ma’am; leave this lad to me.” Mr. Pumblechook then turned me
towards him, as if he were going to cut my hair, and said,
“First (to get our thoughts in order): Forty-three pence?
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”
To which I replied, after a long interval of reflection, “I don’t know.” And I was so aggravated
that I almost doubt if I did know.
Mr. Pumblechook said, “Is forty-three pence seven and sixpence three fardens, for instance?
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”
“Yes!” said I. The answer spoilt his joke, and brought him to a dead stop.
“Boy! What like is Miss Havisham?
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” Mr. Pumblechook began again when he had recovered;
folding his arms tight on his chest and applying the screw.
“Very tall and dark,” I told him.
“Is she, uncle?” asked my sister.
Mr. Pumblechook winked assent; from which I at once inferred that he had never seen Miss
Havisham, for she was nothing of the kind.
“Good!” said Mr. Pumblechook. (“This is the way to have him,
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I think, Mum!”)
“I am sure, uncle,” returned Mrs. Joe, “I wish you had him always; you know so well how to
deal with him.”
“Now, boy! What was she a doing of, when you went in today?” asked Mr. Pumblechook.
“She was sitting,” I answered, “in a black velvet coach.”
Mr. Pumblechook and Mrs. Joe stared at one another – as they well might – and both repeated,
“In a black velvet coach?”
“Yes,” said I. “And Miss Estella – that’s her niece, I think – handed her in cake and wine at the
coach-window, on a gold plate. And we all had cake and wine on gold plates. And I got up behind
the coach to eat mine, because she told me to.”
“Was anybody else there?” asked Mr. Pumblechook.
“Four dogs,” said I.
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the chair of honor – почётное место
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How did you get on up town?” – Как ты провёл время в городе?
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Forty-three pence? – Сколько составят сорок три пенса?
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for instance – например
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What like is Miss Havisham? – Какая из себя мисс Хэвишем?
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This is the way to have him. – Вот как надо с ним обращаться.
Д. Остин, Ч. Диккенс, С. А. Матвеев. «Гордость и предубеждение / Pride and Prejudice. Great Expectations / Боль-
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“Large or small?”
“Immense,” said I. “And they fought for veal-cutlets out of a silver basket.”
Mr. Pumblechook and Mrs. Joe stared at one another again, in utter amazement. I was perfectly
frantic and would have told them anything.
“Where was this coach, in the name of gracious?
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” asked my sister.
“In Miss Havisham’s room.” They stared again. “But there weren’t any horses to it.”
“Can this be possible, uncle?” asked Mrs. Joe. “What can the boy mean?”
“I’ll tell you, Mum,” said Mr. Pumblechook. “My opinion is, it’s a sedan-chair.
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She’s flighty,
you know – very flighty – quite flighty enough to pass her days in a sedan-chair.”
“Did you ever see her in it, uncle?” asked Mrs. Joe.
“How could I,” he returned, “when I never see her in my life?”
“Goodness, uncle! And yet you have spoken to her?”
“Why, don’t you know,” said Mr. Pumblechook, “that when I have been there, I have been took
up to the outside of her door, and the door has stood ajar, and she has spoke to me that way. Don’t
say you don’t know that, Mum. But the boy went there to play. What did you play at, boy?”
“We played with flags,” I said.
“Flags!” echoed my sister.
“Yes,” said I. “Estella waved a blue flag, and I waved a red one, and Miss Havisham waved
one sprinkled all over with little gold stars, out at the coach-window. And then we all waved our
swords and hurrahed.”
“Swords!” repeated my sister. “Where did you get swords from?”
“Out of a cupboard,” said I. “And I saw pistols in it – and jam – and pills. And there was no
daylight in the room, but it was all lighted up with candles.”
“That’s true, Mum,” said Mr. Pumblechook, with a grave nod. “That’s the state of the case, for
that much I’ve seen myself.” And then they both stared at me, and I stared at them.
Now, when I saw Joe open his blue eyes and roll them all round the kitchen in helpless
amazement; but only as regarded him – not in the least as regarded the other two. Towards Joe,
and Joe only, I considered myself a young monster. They had no doubt that Miss Havisham would
“do something” for me. My sister stood out for “property.” Mr. Pumblechook was in favour of a
handsome premium
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for schooling.
After Mr. Pumblechook had driven off, and when my sister was washing up, I went into the
forge to Joe, and remained by him until he had done for the night. Then I said, “Before the fire goes
out, Joe, I should like to tell you something.”
“Should you, Pip?” said Joe. “Then tell me. What is it, Pip?”
“Joe,” said I, taking hold of his shirt sleeve, and twisting it between my finger and thumb, “you
remember all that about Miss Havisham’s?”
“Remember?” said Joe. “I believe you! Wonderful!”
“It’s a terrible thing, Joe; it isn’t true.”
“What are you telling of, Pip?” cried Joe, falling back in the greatest amazement. “You don’t
mean to say it’s – ”
“Yes I do; it’s lies, Joe.”
“But not all of it?” I stood shaking my head. “But at least there were dogs, Pip? Come, Pip,”
said Joe, “at least there were dogs?”
“No, Joe.”
“A dog?” said Joe. “A puppy? Come?”
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in the name of gracious – боже милостивый
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sedan-chair – портшез (лёгкое переносное кресло, в котором можно сидеть полулёжа; паланкин )
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handsome premium – щедрая плата
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“No, Joe, there was nothing at all of the kind. It’s terrible, Joe; isn’t it?”
“Terrible?” cried Joe. “Awful! What possessed you?”
“I don’t know what possessed me, Joe,” I replied, letting his shirt sleeve go, and sitting down in
the ashes at his feet, hanging my head; “but I wish my boots weren’t so thick nor my hands so coarse.”
And then I told Joe that I felt very miserable, and that I hadn’t been able to explain myself
to Mrs. Joe and Pumblechook, who were so rude to me, and that there had been a beautiful young
lady at Miss Havisham’s who was dreadfully proud, and that she had said I was common, and that I
knew I was common, and that I wished I was not common, and that the lies had come of it somehow,
though I didn’t know how.
“There’s one thing you may be sure of, Pip,” said Joe, after some rumination, “namely, that lies
is lies. Don’t you tell more of them, Pip. That isn’t the way to get out of being common, old chap.
But you are uncommon in some things. You’re uncommon small. There was a flag, perhaps?”
“No, Joe.”
“I’m sorry there wasn’t a flag, Pip. Look here, Pip, at what is said to you by a true friend. Don’t
tell more lies, Pip, and live well and die happy.”
“You are not angry with me, Joe?”
“No, old chap. But when you go up stairs to bed, Pip, please think about my words. That’s all,
old chap, and never do it more.”
When I got up to my little room and said my prayers, I did not forget Joe’s recommendation.
I thought how Joe and my sister were sitting in the kitchen, and how I had come up to bed from the
kitchen, and how Miss Havisham and Estella never sat in a kitchen, but were far above the level of
such common doings.
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That was a memorable day to me, for it made great changes in me. Pause you who read this,
and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have
bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day.
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were far above the level of such common doings – были намного выше такой обыкновенной жизни
Д. Остин, Ч. Диккенс, С. А. Матвеев. «Гордость и предубеждение / Pride and Prejudice. Great Expectations / Боль-
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