mr pumblechook's premises in the high-street of the market town, were of a peppercorny and farinaceous character, as the premises of a corn-chandler and seedsman should be. it appeared to me that he must be a very happy man indeed, to have so many little drawers in his shop; and i wondered when i peeped into one or two on the lower tiers, and saw the tied-up brown paper packets inside, whether the flower-seeds and bulbs ever wanted of a fine day to break out of those jails, and bloom.

it was in the early morning after my arrival that i entertained this speculation. on the previous night, i had been sent straight to bed in an attic with a sloping roof, which was so low in the corner where the bedstead was, that i calculated the tiles as being within a foot of my eyebrows. in the same early morning, i discovered a singular affinity between seeds and corduroys. mr pumblechook wore corduroys, and so did his shopman; and somehow, there was a general air and flavour about the corduroys, so much in the nature of seeds, and a general air and flavour about the seeds, so much in the nature of corduroys, that i hardly knew which was which. the same opportunity served me for noticing that mr pumblechook appeared to conduct his business by looking across the street at the saddler, who appeared to transact his business by keeping his eye on the coach-maker, who appeared to get on in life by putting his hands in his pockets and contemplating the baker, who in his turn folded his arms and stared at the grocer, who stood at his door and yawned at the chemist. the watch-maker, always poring over a little desk with a magnifying glass at his eye, and always inspected by a group of smock-frocks poring over him through the glass of his shop-window, seemed to be about the only person in the high-street whose trade engaged his attention.

mr pumblechook and i breakfasted at eight o'clock in the parlour behind the shop, while the shopman took his mug of tea and hunch of bread-and-butter on a sack of peas in the front premises. i considered mr pumblechook wretched company. besides being possessed by my sister's idea that a mortifying and penitential character ought to be imparted to my diet - besides giving me as much crumb as possible in combination with as little butter, and putting such a quantity of warm water into my milk that it would have been more candid to have left the milk out altogether - his conversation consisted of nothing but arithmetic. on my politely bidding him good morning, he said, pompously, `seven times nine, boy?' and how should i be able to answer, dodged in that way, in a strange place, on an empty stomach! i was hungry, but before i had swallowed a morsel, he began a running sum that lasted all through the breakfast. `seven?' `and four?' `and eight?' `and six?' `and two?' `and ten?' and so on. and after each figure was disposed of, it was as much as i could do to get a bite or a sup, before the next came; while he sat at his ease guessing nothing, and eating bacon and hot roll, in (if i may be allowed the expression) a gorging and gormandising manner.

for such reasons i was very glad when ten o'clock came and we started for miss havisham's; though i was not at all at my ease regarding the manner in which i should acquit myself under that lady's roof. within a quarter of an hour we came to miss havisham's house, which was of old brick, and dismal, and had a great many iron bars to it. some of the windows had been walled up; of those that remained, all the lower were rustily barred. there was a court-yard in front, and that was barred; so, we had to wait, after ringing the bell, until some one should come to open it. while we waited at the gate, i peeped in (even then mr pumblechook said, `and fourteen?' but i pretended not to hear him), and saw that at the side of house there was a large brewery. no brewing was going on in it, and none seemed to have gone on for a long long time.

a window was raised, and a clear voice demanded `what name?' to which my conductor replied, `pumblechook.' the voice returned, `quite right,' and the window was shut again, and a young lady came across the court-yard, with keys in her hand.

`this,' said mr pumblechook, `is pip.'

`this is pip, is it?' returned the young lady, who was very pretty and seemed very proud; `come in, pip.'

mr pumblechook was coming in also, when she stopped him with the gate.

`oh!' she said. `did you wish to see miss havisham?'

`if miss havisham wished to see me,' returned mr pumblechook, discomfited.

`ah!' said the girl; `but you see she don't.'

she said it so finally, and in such an undiscussible way, that mr pumblechook, though in a condition of ruffled dignity, could not protest. but he eyed me severely - as if i had done anything to him! - and departed with the words reproachfully delivered: `boy! let your behaviour here be a credit unto them which brought you up by hand!' i was not free from apprehension that he would come back to propound through the gate, `and sixteen?' but he didn't.

my young conductress locked the gate, and we went across the court-yard. it was paved and clean, but grass was growing in every crevice. the brewery buildings had a little lane of communication with it, and the wooden gates of that lane stood open, and all the brewery beyond, stood open, away to the high enclosing wall; and all was empty and disused. the cold wind seemed to blow colder there, than outside the gate; and it made a shrill noise in howling in and out at the open sides of the brewery, like the noise of wind in the rigging of a ship at sea.

she saw me looking at it, and she said, `you could drink without hurt all the strong beer that's brewed there now, boy.'

`i should think i could, miss' said i, in a shy way.

`better not try to brew beer there now, or it would turn out sour, boy; don't you think so?'

`it looks like it, miss.'

`not that anybody means to try,' she added, `for that's all done with, and the place will stand as idle as it is, till it falls. as to strong beer, there's enough of it in the cellars already, to drown the manor house.'

`is that the name of this house, miss?'

`one of its names, boy.'

`it has more than one, then, miss?'

`one more. its other name was satis; which is greek, or latin, or hebrew, or all three - or all one to me - for enough.'

`enough house,' said i; `that's a curious name, miss.'

`yes,' she replied; `but it meant more than it said. it meant, when it was given, that whoever had this house, could want nothing else. they must have been easily satisfied in those days, i should think. but don't loiter, boy.'

though she called me `boy' so often, and with a carelessness that was far from complimentary, she was of about my own age. she seemed much older than i, of course, being a girl, and beautiful and self-possessed; and she was an scornful of me as if she had been one-and-twenty, and a queen.

we went into the house by a side door - the great front entrance had two chains across it outside - and the first thing i noticed was, that the passages were all dark, and that she had left a candle burning there. she took it up, and we went through more passages and up a staircase, and still it was all dark, and only the candle lighted us.

at last we came to the door of a room, and she said, `go in.'

i answered, more in shyness than politeness, `after you, miss.'

to this, she returned: `don't be ridiculous, boy; i am not going in.' and scornfully walked away, and - what was worse - took the candle with her.

this was very uncomfortable, and i was half afraid. however, the only thing to be done being to knock at the door, i knocked, and was told from within to enter. i entered, therefore, and found myself in a pretty large room, well lighted with wax candles. no glimpse of daylight was to be seen in it. it was a dressing-room, as i supposed from the furniture, though much of it was of forms and uses then quite unknown to me. but prominent in it was a draped table with a gilded looking-glass, and that i made out at first sight to be a fine lady's dressing-table.

whether i should have made out this object so soon, if there had been no fine lady sitting at it, i cannot say. in an arm-chair, with an elbow resting on the table and her head leaning on that hand, sat the strangest lady i have ever seen, or shall ever see.

she was dressed in rich materials - satins, and lace, and silks - all of white. her shoes were white. and she had a long while veil dependent from her hair, and she had bridal flowers in her hair, but her hair was white. some bright jewels sparkled on her neck and on her hands, and some other jewels lay sparkling on the table. dresses, less splendid than the dress she wore, and half-packed trunks, were scattered about. she had not quite finished dressing, for she had but one shoe on - the other was on the table near her hand - her veil was but half arranged, her watch and chain were not put on, and some lace for her bosom lay with those trinkets, and with her handkerchief, and gloves, and some flowers, and a prayer-book, all confusedly heaped about the looking-glass.

it was not in the first few moments the i saw all these things, though i saw more of them in the first moments than might be supposed. but, i saw that everything within my view which ought to be white, had been white long ago, and had lost its lustre, and was faded and yellow. i saw that the bride within the bridal dress had withered like the dress, and like the flowers, and had no brightness left but the brightness of her sunken eyes. i saw that the dress had been put upon the rounded figure of a young woman, and that the figure upon which it now hung loose, had shrunk to skin and bone. once, i had been taken to see some ghastly waxwork at the fair, representing i know not what impossible personage lying in state. once, i had been taken to one of our old marsh churches to see a skeleton in the ashes of a rich dress, that had been dug out of a vault under the church pavement. now, waxwork and skeleton seemed to have dark eyes that moved and looked at me. i should have cried out, if i could.

`who is it?' said the lady at the table.

`pip, ma'am.'

`pip?'

`mr pumblechook's boy, ma'am. come - to play.'

`come nearer; let me look at you. come close.'

it was when i stood before her, avoiding her eyes, that i took note of the surrounding objects in detail, and saw that her watch had stopped at twenty minutes to nine, and that a clock in the room had stopped at twenty minutes to nine.

`look at me,' said miss havisham. `you are not afraid of a woman who has never seen the sun since you were born?'

i regard to state that i was not afraid of telling the enormous lie comprehended in the answer `no.'

`do you know what i touch here?' she said, laying her hands, one upon the other, on her left side.

`yes, ma'am.' (it made me think of the young man.)

`what do i touch?'

`your heart.'

`broken!'

she uttered the word with an eager look, and with strong emphasis, and with a weird smile that had a kind of boast in it. afterwards, she kept her hands there for a little while, and slowly took them away as if they were heavy.

`i am tired,' said miss havisham. `i want diversion, and i have done with men and women. play.'

i think it will be conceded by my most disputatious reader, that she could hardly have directed an unfortunate boy to do anything in the wide world more difficult to be done under the circumstances.

`i sometimes have sick fancies,' she went on, `and i have a sick fancy that i want to see some play. there there!' with an impatient movement of the fingers of her right hand; `play, play, play!'

for a moment, with the fear of my sister's working me before my eyes, i had a desperate idea of starting round the room in the assumed character of mr pumblechook's chaise-cart. but, i felt myself so unequal to the performance that i gave it up, and stood looking at miss havisham in what i suppose she took for a dogged manner, inasmuch as she said, when we had taken a good look at each other:

`are you sullen and obstinate?'

`no, ma'am, i am very sorry for you, and very sorry i can't play just now. if you complain of me i shall get into trouble with my sister, so i would do it if i could; but it's so new here, and so strange, and so fine - and melancholy--' i stopped, fearing i might say too much, or had already said it, and we took another look at each other.

before she spoke again, she turned her eyes from me, and looked at the dress she wore, and at the dressing-table, and finally at herself in the looking-glass.

`so new to him,' she muttered, `so old to me; so strange to him, so familiar to me; so melancholy to both of us! call estella.'

as she was still looking at the reflection of herself, i thought she was still talking to herself, and kept quiet.

`call estella,' she repeated, flashing a look at me. `you can do that. call estella. at the door.'

to stand in the dark in a mysterious passage of an unknown house, bawling estella to a scornful young lady neither visible nor responsive, and feeling it a dreadful liberty so to roar out her name, was almost as bad as playing to order. but, she answered at last, and her light came along the dark passage like a star.

miss havisham beckoned her to come close, and took up a jewel from the table, and tried its effect upon her fair young bosom and against her pretty brown hair. `your own, one day, my dear, and you will use it well. let me see you play cards with this boy.'

`with this boy? why, he is a common labouring-boy!'

i thought i overheard miss havisham answer - only it seemed so unlikely - `well? you can break his heart.'

`what do you play, boy?' asked estella of myself, with the greatest disdain.

`nothing but beggar my neighbour, miss.'

`beggar him,' said miss havisham to estella. so we sat down to cards.

it was then i began to understand that everything in the room had stopped, like the watch and the clock, a long time ago. i noticed that miss havisham put down the jewel exactly on the spot form which she had taken it up. as estella dealt the cards, i glanced at the dressing-table again, and saw that the shoe upon it, once white, now yellow, had never been worn. i glanced down at the foot from which the shoe was absent, and saw that the silk stocking on it, once white, now yellow, had been trodden ragged. without this arrest of everything, this standing still of all the pale decayed objects, not even the withered bridal dress on the collapsed from could have looked so like grave-clothes, or the long veil so like a shroud.

so she sat, corpse-like, as we played at cards; the frillings and trimmings on her bridal dress, looking like earthy paper. i knew nothing then, of the discoveries that are occasionally made of bodies buried in ancient times, which fall to powder in the moment of being distinctly seen; but, i have often thought since, that she must have looked as if the admission of the natural light of day would have struck her to dust.

`he calls the knaves, jacks, this boy!' said estella with disdain, before our first game was out. `and what coarse hands he has!and what thick boots!'

i had never thought of being ashamed of my hands before; but i began to consider them a very indifferent pair. her contempt for me was so strong, that it became infectious, and i caught it.

she won the game, and i dealt. i misdealt, as was only natural, when i knew she was lying in wait for me to do wrong; and she denounced me for a stupid, clumsy labouring-boy.

`you say nothing of her,' remarked miss havisham to me, as she looked on. `she says many hard things of you, but you say nothing of her. what do you think of her?'

`i don't like to say,' i stammered.

`tell me in my ear,' said miss havisham, bending down.

`i think she is very proud,' i replied, in a whisper.

`anything else?'

`i think she is very pretty.'

`anything else?'

`i think she is very insulting.' (she was looking at me then with a look of supreme aversion.)

`anything else?'

`i think i should like to go home.'

`and never see her again, though she is so pretty?'

`i am not sure that i shouldn't like to see her again, but i should like to go home now.'

`you shall go soon,' said miss havisham, aloud. `play the game out.'

saving for the one weird smile at first, i should have felt almost sure that miss havisham's face could not smile. it had dropped into a watchful and brooding expression - most likely when all the things about her had become transfixed - and it looked as if nothing could ever lift it up again. her chest had dropped, so that she stooped; and her voice had dropped, so that she spoke low, and with a dead lull upon her; altogether, she had the appearance of having dropped, body and soul, within and without, under the weight of a crushing blow.

i played the game to an end with estella, and she beggared me. she threw the cards down on the table when she had won them all, as if she despised them for having been won of me.

`when shall i have you here again?' said miss havisham. `let me think.'

i was beginning to remind her that to-day was wednesday, when she checked me with her former impatient movement of the fingers of her right hand.

`there, there! i know nothing of days of the week; i know nothing of weeks of the year. come again after six days. you hear?'

`yes, ma'am.'

`estella, take him down. let him have something to eat, and let him roam and look about him while he eats. go, pip.'

i followed the candle down, as i had followed the candle up, and she stood it in the place where we had found it. until she opened the side entrance, i had fancied, without thinking about it, that it must necessarily be night-time. the rush of the daylight quite confounded me, and made me feel as if i had been in the candlelight of the strange room many hours.

`you are to wait here, you boy,' said estella; and disappeared and closed the door.

i took the opportunity of being alone in the court-yard, to look at my coarse hands and my common boots. my opinion of those accessories was not favourable. they had never troubled me before, but they troubled me now, as vulgar appendages. i determined to ask joe why he had ever taught me to call those picture-cards, jacks, which ought to be called knaves. i wished joe had been rather more genteelly brought up, and then i should have been so too.

she came back, with some bread and meat and a little mug of beer. she put the mug down on the stones of the yard, and gave me the bread and meat without looking at me, as insolently as if i were a dog in disgrace. i was so humiliated, hurt, spurned, offended, angry, sorry - i cannot hit upon the right name for the smart - god knows what its name was - that tears started to my eyes. the moment they sprang there, the girl looked at me with a quick delight in having been the cause of them. this gave me power to keep them back and to look at her: so, she gave a contemptuous toss - but with a sense, i thought, of having made too sure that i was so wounded - and left me.

but, when she was gone, i looked about me for a place to hide my face in, and got behind one of the gates in the brewery-lane, and leaned my sleeve against the wall there, and leaned my forehead on it and cried. as i cried, i kicked the wall, and took a hard twist at my hair; so bitter were my feelings, and so sharp was the smart without a name, that needed counteraction.

my sister's bringing up had made me sensitive. in the little world in which children have their existence whosoever brings them up, there is nothing so finely perceived and so finely felt, as injustice. it may be only small injustice that the child can be exposed to; but the child is small, and its world is small, and its rocking-horse stands as many hands high, according to scale, as a big-boned irish hunter. within myself, i had sustained, from my babyhood, a perpetual conflict with injustice. i had known, from the time when i could speak, that my sister, in her capricious and violent coercion, was unjust to me. i had cherished a profound conviction that her bringing me up by hand, gave her no right to bring me up by jerks. through all my punishments, disgraces, fasts and vigils, and other penitential performances, i had nursed this assurance; and to my communing so much with it, in a solitary and unprotected way, i in great part refer the fact that i was morally timid and very sensitive.

i got rid of my injured feelings for the time, by kicking them into the brewery wall, and twisting them out of my hair, and then i smoothed my face with my sleeve, and came from behind the gate. the bread and meat were acceptable, and the beer was warming and tingling, and i was soon in spirits to look about me.

to be sure, it was a deserted place, down to the pigeon-house in the brewery-yard, which had been blown crooked on its pole by some high wind, and would have made the pigeons think themselves at sea, if there had been any pigeons there to be rocked by it. but, there were no pigeons in the dove-cot, no horses in the stable, no pigs in the sty, no malt in the store-house, no smells of grains and beer in the copper or the vat. all the uses and scents of the brewery might have evaporated with its last reek of smoke. in a by-yard, there was a wilderness of empty casks, which had a certain sour remembrance of better days lingering about them; but it was too sour to be accepted as a sample of the beer that was gone - and in this respect i remember those recluses as being like most others.

behind the furthest end of the brewery, was a rank garden with an old wall: not so high but that i could struggle up and hold on long enough to look over it, and see that the rank garden was the garden of the house, and that it was overgrown with tangled weeds, but that there was a track upon the green and yellow paths, as if some one sometimes walked there, and that estella was walking away from me even then. but she seemed to be everywhere. for, when i yielded to the temptation presented by the casks, and began to walk on them. i saw her walking on them at the end of the yard of casks. she had her back towards me, and held her pretty brown hair spread out in her two hands, and never looked round, and passed out of my view directly. so, in the brewery itself - by which i mean the large paved lofty place in which they used to make the beer, and where the brewing utensils still were. when i first went into it, and, rather oppressed by its gloom, stood near the door looking about me, i saw her pass among the extinguished fires, and ascend some light iron stairs, and go out by a gallery high overhead, as if she were going out into the sky.

it was in this place, and at this moment, that a strange thing happened to my fancy. i thought it a strange thing then, and i thought it a stranger thing long afterwards. i turned my eyes - a little dimmed by looking up at the frosty light - towards a great wooden beam in a low nook of the building near me on my right hand, and i saw a figure hanging there by the neck. a figure all in yellow white, with but one shoe to the feet; and it hung so, that i could see that the faded trimmings of the dress were like earthy paper, and that the face was miss havisham's, with a movement going over the whole countenance as if she were trying to call to me. in the terror of seeing the figure, and in the terror of being certain that it had not been there a moment before, i at first ran from it, and then ran towards it. and my terror was greatest of all, when i found no figure there.

nothing less than the frosty light of the cheerful sky, the sight of people passing beyond the bars of the court-yard gate, and the reviving influence of the rest of the bread and meat and beer, would have brought me round. even with those aids, i might not have come to myself as soon as i did, but that i saw estella approaching with the keys, to let me out. she would have some fair reason for looking down upon me, i thought, if she saw me frightened; and she should have no fair reason.

she gave me a triumphant glance in passing me, as if she rejoiced that my hands were so coarse and my boots were so thick, and she opened the gate, and stood holding it. i was passing out without looking at her, when she touched me with a taunting hand.

`why don't you cry?'

`because i don't want to.'

`you do,' said she. `you have been crying till you are half blind, and you are near crying again now.'

she laughed contemptuously, pushed me out, and locked the gate upon me. i went straight to mr pumblechook's, and was immensely relieved to find him not at home. so, leaving word with the shopman on what day i was wanted at miss havisham's again, i set off on the four-mile walk to our forge; pondering, as i went along, on all i had seen, and deeply revolving that i was a common labouring-boy; that my hands were coarse; that my boots were thick; that i had fallen into a despicable habit of calling knaves jacks; that i was much more ignorant than i had considered myself last night, and generally that i was in a low-lived bad way.

彭波契克先生的宅邸在集镇的大街上，弥漫着干胡椒和谷粉的味道，说他是一个做粮食生意、卖种子的人，真一点不假。我想，他一定是一个十分幸福的人，因为在他的店堂中有许许多多的小抽屉。我偷瞧了下层的一两个抽屉，看到各式各样的牛皮纸包，里面都是些花种或根茎之类的，不禁想到，它们是不是也想有那么一天，从这纸做的监狱中破门而出、开花结果呢？

来到这里后的第二天清早我才有了这些思考，因为到达这里的当天晚上，我立刻被送到一间小阁楼上就寝。这间小阁楼的屋顶是倾斜的，在一个最低的角落处放了一张床。我心中计算着，屋上的瓦和我的眉毛之间相距不过一尺。一大清早，我发现在种子和灯芯绒之间有一种亲缘关系。彭波契克先生穿着用灯芯绒制的衣服，他的店堂伙计穿的也是用灯芯绒做成的衣服，不知为什么，他们穿的衣服散发出的灯芯绒气味和种子的气味很相似，而从种子包里散出来的气味又和灯芯绒的气味十分相似，所以，究竟什么是灯芯绒的气味，或者什么是种子的气味，我是无法分清的。同时，我又注意到另一件事，彭波契克先生做生意的方法就是直瞪瞪地望着街对过的那个马具师，而这位马具师的经营方式是不停地瞅着那位马车修理匠，而这位修理马车的师傅打发生活的办法是双手插在口袋里，凝视着面包师傅，而面包师傅交叉着双臂，目不转睛地注视着杂货店老板，这位老板则站在店门口对着药剂师打哈欠。唯一专心致志的人是钟表师傅，他永远伏在他的修表桌上，眼睛上罩个放大镜。尽管一群群身穿农民服装的人走来走去，透过他的店窗玻璃窥视着他，而他却不为所扰，成为大街上仅有的一位专心于自己买卖的人。

彭波契克先生和我于八点钟在店后面的客厅中享用早餐，而他店里的伙计却坐在店堂里的一袋豆子上，喝着一大杯茶，吃着奶油面包。我认为彭波契克先生是一个令人讨厌的伙伴。他完全接受了我姐姐的那套观点，在我吃饭的时刻也要来伤害我、惩罚我，给我吃的全是面包屑，只加上那么一点点儿黄油，而给我喝的牛奶却兑上了许许多多的热水。我看，还是老老实实的不要放牛奶更好。他的谈话内容，除掉要我算题目外，别的什么也没有。我对他客客气气地道了声早安，他却趾高气扬地立刻问我：“孩子，七乘九是多少？”可是，我刚住到这个陌生的地方，而且肚子空空的，叫我怎么能计算得出来呢？我饿得发慌，连一口面包屑还没来得及吞下去，他就提出了一连串的问题，整个早饭时间都没有停过，什么“七乘七是多少？”“乘四呢？”‘乘八呢？”“乘六呢？”“乘二呢？”“乘十呢”？等等等等。一道算题刚刚做好，我还来不及啃上一口面包或喝上一口牛奶水，第二道算题又来了。他这时却舒舒服服，用不着费脑筋地吃着火腿和热面包圈。要是我可以直言不讳的话，他那副吃相简直是生吞活剥、狼吞虎咽。

一到十点钟，我们就出发到郝维仙小姐家中去，我禁不住愉快起来，不过心中还是没有多少轻松自在的感觉，因为在这位小姐的家中，究竟应该怎样检点自己的行为，我完全没有把握。一刻钟不到，我们就抵达了郝维仙小姐的家门口。这是一所古老的砖瓦结构的房子，特别阴森凄凉，装着许多铁栅栏。有些窗户已经用砖头封死，那些留下来的窗户，凡低一些的都装有生了锈的铁条。房子的前面是一个院子，也装上了铁栅门，所以，我们按过门铃后只有站在外面等人来开门。趁等在门口的时间，我向里面张望着。就在这时，彭波契克先生还在说“七乘十四是多少？”但我假装没有听见。我看到房子的一侧是一个很大的造酒作坊，不过现在里面没有酿酒，看上去似乎已有很长时间不再酿酒了。

一扇窗户向上拉起，一个清脆悦耳的声音问道：“谁呀？”引我来的人赶忙答道：“彭波契克。”清脆的声音又说道：“知道了。”接着，窗户被放了下来，一位年轻姑娘手上提着一串钥匙，穿过院子走来。

彭波契克先生说道：“这就是皮普。”

“这就是皮普吗？”这位年轻小姐问道。她生得很漂亮，不过非常骄傲。“进来，皮普。”

彭波契克先生也想跟着进去，她连忙关上了门，将他拦在外面。

“噢！”她说道，“你想见一见郝维仙小姐吗？”

“要是郝维仙小姐想见我的话，我想进去看看她。”彭波契克答道，表情十分尴尬。

“噢！”姑娘说道，“那我就告诉你，她不想见你。”

她回答得那么肯定，根本没有商讨的余地。虽然彭波契克的尊严受到了挫折，而且也无法提出抗议，但是他仍然不放过我，用眼睛狠狠地盯住我，仿佛这一切又是我造成的。在离开时，他还念念不忘用话来教训我：“孩子！你要乖乖地在这里，要为一手把你带大的人争光！”我的心里还是七上八下，担心着什么时候他又会跑回来，又会站在大门外面考问我“七乘十六是多少？”不过，他没有回来。

领着我的年轻小姐锁上了大门，然后我们便穿过院子往里走去。路是用石板铺的，扫得很干净，只是在石板间的缝中长满了小草。路上有一个通道和造酒作坊连在一起。通道上的几扇木门都大开着，酒坊的所有门窗也都开着，所以一眼望去就能见到那高高的围墙。酒坊空荡荡的，已经不再使用。这里的风似乎比门外的风更加阴冷，并且发出尖厉的叫声。里外风声连成一片，在酒坊敞开的门窗处窜进窜出，和狂风在海上航船帆索间的呼啸声不相上下。

她看到我凝视着造酒作坊，便对我说道：“孩子，现在那里造出来的烈性啤酒，就是你全部喝光，也不会对你有半点儿伤害。”

“我想是这样的，小姐。”我有些羞涩地说。

“最好还是不要在这里酿酒，否则，造出来的酒也是酸的，孩子，你说对吧？”

“看上去是这样，小姐。”

“现在根本没有人想在这里造酒，”她又说道，“酒已经造过了，不过这造酒的地方还得呆头呆脑地待在这儿，一直到倒塌为止。至于烈性啤酒，地窖里放了很多，多得可以把这一座庄园宅第淹掉。”

“小姐，这房子就叫作庄园宅第吗？”

“孩子，这只是这房子的一个名字。”

“那么，小姐，这房子有不止一个名字吗？”

“还有一个名字，叫做沙提斯。这个词不是希腊文就是拉丁文，不是拉丁文就是希伯莱文，或者全是，反正对我来说，不管是哪一个意思都一样，那就是足够。”

“足够宅邸！”我说道，“小姐，这个名字可真奇怪。”

“是的，”她答道，“不过意思比这还多着呢。它的意思本来是指，无论是谁，一旦有了这所房子就足够了，再不希求别的。我想，在从前的日子里，人们一定是很容易满足的。好了，孩子，不要闲荡了。”

她左一声右一声叫我为“孩子”，既随随便便，又毫无礼貌，其实她自己的年龄和我也差不多。她看上去比我大得多，当然，作为一位姑娘，长得又漂亮，又沉静迷人，似乎有二十来岁，俨然是一位女皇，对我怀着轻视是理所当然的。

我们通过一扇边门走进屋子，因为那巨大的正门外锁着两根铁链条。一进去，我注意到的第一件事是那些过道都是漆黑的，只点着一支蜡烛，是刚才她出来时放在那里的。这时，她拿起蜡烛，我们一起走过了几条过道，又踏上楼梯。一路上全是漆黑一片，只有这支烛光照着我们的路。

终于，我们走到一个房间的门口，她说道：“进去。”

我答道：“小姐，我跟在你后面走。”这不是因为懂礼貌，而是我有些胆怯。

她听了我的话后答道：“孩子，你可别闹笑话；我可不进去。”然后，她便带着点儿轻视的态度走开了，而且，更糟的是把蜡烛也随身带走了。

我感到浑身不舒服，多半还有些害怕。无可奈何，我要做的唯一一件事就是硬着头皮敲门。我敲了门，里面传来声音要我进去。我推门进去，发现这是一间相当大的房间，里面燃点着许多支蜡烛，而白日的光辉一丝儿也看不到。根据陈设，我猜想这是一间化妆室，其中还有许多家具不要说是干什么用的，我就连见也没有见到过。最奇特别致的是一张铺着台布的桌子，上面有一面镀金的梳妆镜。一眼见到，我就断定它是一位贵夫人的梳妆台。

要不是因为我看到一位高贵的夫人坐在那里，否则很难说我能一眼看出这是一张梳妆台。她坐在一张扶手椅上，一只胳膊肘靠在梳妆台上，手支撑着她的头。我从来没有见到过这么奇怪的夫人，恐怕以后也不会再见到了。

她穿的衣服都是上等料子制的，缎子、花边、还有丝绸，全是白色的。她穿的鞋也是白色的。她头发上披下来一条长长的白色披纱，头上还别着新娘戴的花饰，但她的头发已经白了。在她的颈子上和手上闪着珠光宝气，还有些珠宝手饰在桌上闪闪发光。一些比她身上穿的礼服要稍显逊色的衣服以及几只装了一半的衣箱都凌乱地散放在房里。看来她还没有打扮好，因为她只有一只脚穿上了鞋，另一只鞋还放在梳妆台上她的手边；她的披纱还没有整理停当；带链的表还没有系好；应该戴在胸口的一些花边和一些小玩艺儿，诸如手帕。手套、一些花儿、祈祷书等，都乱七八糟地堆放在梳妆镜的周围。

我并不是一下子就看到了这许多东西，不过我一眼看到的东西也的确不少，比估计的要多得多。我眼睛所看到的东西应该都是白色的，很久很久以前肯定是白色的，不过现在已失去了光泽，都褪色了，泛黄了。我看到的这位穿戴结婚礼服的新娘也已经像她的礼服一样衰弱了，像她戴的花饰一样凋枯了。除了她那双深深陷凹的眼窝里还有些光彩外，在她身上再没有留下别的光彩。我看得出，这衣服曾经是穿在一位十分丰满的年青女人身上的。如今，那个丰满的身体亦已消瘦得只剩下皮包骨头，罩在上面的衣服也显得空荡荡的。我记得曾经有人带我去市集上看一具苍白可怕的蜡人，我不知道那是哪一位显赫人士的遗像模型。我还记得曾经有人把我带到一座古老的沼泽地上的教堂，去看一具骷髅。骷髅是从教堂的地下墓穴中拖出来的，华贵的衣眼已变成了灰。而现在，似乎蜡人和骷髅正在我的旁边，眼窝里有一双黑眼珠，滴溜溜转动着望着我。如果我能够叫出声，我早就大叫了起来。

“你是谁？”坐在桌边的夫人说道。

“夫人，我是皮普。”

“皮普？”

“夫人，我是彭波契克先生带来的男孩，到这里——玩的。”

“走近点，让我看看你，靠我近一些。”

我站在她的面前，避开她的目光，却详细地观察了四周的东西。我发现她的表停了，停在八点四十分，房里的钟也是停的，时间也是八点四十分。

“看着我，”郝维仙小姐说道，“你不怕一个从你出生后就没有见过阳光的女人吗？”

我感到遗憾的是我竟然毫不胆怯地撒了个大谎，这个谎包含在“不怕”的回答中。

“你知道我的手摸着的是什么地方？”她把一只手叠在另一只手上，放在左边胸口，对我说道。

“夫人，我知道。”这情景使我想起了那个要挖我心肝的年轻人。

“那么说我的手摸着哪里？”

“你的心。”

“碎了！”

她露出迫切的神色说出这几个字，而且特别加重了语气，还发出一阵令人毛骨悚然的笑声，笑声中隐藏着她的骄傲。她的手在胸口放了一会儿以后，才慢慢地挪开，仿佛两只手十分沉重。

“我烦闷极了，”郝维仙小姐说道，“要消遣解闷。我已经和男男女女们玩够了，所以想找个孩子来玩。玩吧。”

我想，哪怕是最喜欢争辩的读者也会承认，她要一个可怜的孩子在如此情况下玩耍，恐怕在这个世界上没有比这更困难的事了。

“有时候我会出现病态的幻想，”她继续说道，“我病态地幻想着我渴望看别人玩。得了，得了！”说着，她用右手的手指做了个不耐烦的动作，“现在玩吧，玩吧，玩吧。”

霎那间，我姐姐对我讲过的那些恐吓的话出现在我脑海中，我想我得不顾死活地玩一下，装成彭波契克先生的马车在房子中绕一圈。但是我又一想，我一定表演不到家，所以便放弃了这个念头，站在那儿呆呆地望着郝维仙小姐，而她也望着我。两人对峙了一会儿，她一定认为我太任性，于是说道：

“你怎么这样紧绷着脸不高兴，怎么这么不听话呢？”

“夫人，我没有不高兴。我只是感到对不起你，因为我现在玩不了，所以很对不起你。你不要责怪我，否则我姐姐会找我的麻烦。如果我能玩，我一定玩给你看。可这里的一切是那么新鲜，那么奇特，那么美好，同时又那么令人感到忧郁——”说到这里我停住了，担心说多了反而铸成大错，也许我已经说了太多。于是，我们又四目相对。

她一时没有答我的腔，把眼光从我身上移开，先注视着自己穿的衣服，然后看着梳妆台，最后又对着梳妆镜看着自己。

然后，她独自嘟哝着：“这对他是如此新鲜，而对我又是多么陈！日；这对他是如此奇特，而对我又是多么单调；不过这对他、对我都同样令人感到忧郁！把埃斯苔娜叫来。”

这时她仍然看着镜子里自己的形容，所以我想她一定是自言自语，便没有答腔。

“去把埃斯苔娜叫来，”她重复了一遍，目光扫视了一下我。“这种事你能做的。去叫埃斯苔娜，就在门口叫。”

在这样一幢毫不熟悉的大宅子里，站在一条漆黑而又神秘的过道里，我拉开嗓子大叫埃斯苔娜，大叫这位既看不见踪影，又听不见回音，待人傲慢的年轻小姐，而且是直呼其名。我内心感到这是一种天大的无礼行为，和叫我玩一样几乎是难以忍受的。不过，我最终听到了她的应声，然后看到她的蜡烛光像一颗星星一样沿着黑暗的过道飘然而来。

郝维仙小姐向她抬抬手，意思是要她走近些，然后随手从梳妆台上拿起一颗宝石，把它放在她美丽动人焕发着青春的胸脯上，接着又放在她美丽的棕色秀发上。她比试来比试去，说道：“总有一天这颗宝石是你的，亲爱的。你佩戴着这宝石会更楚楚动人的。现在，我要看你和这个孩子玩牌。”

“要我和这个小孩儿玩！为什么，这是一个乡下干苦力的孩子！”

我想我无意中听到了郝维仙小姐的回答，简直不敢相信自己的耳朵。她说：“要知道，你可以把他的心揉碎。”

“孩子，你会玩什么牌？”埃斯苔娜用非常蔑视的态度问我。

“小姐，除掉玩夺牌戏外，其他我都不会。”

“那就把他的牌都夺过来。”郝维仙小姐对埃斯苔娜说道。于是，我们都坐下来玩牌。

这时我才看明白，这个房间中的每一样东西都和那只表与钟一样，在很久以前就停止了。我注意到郝维仙小姐把那颗宝石又放到她刚才拿起的地方，一点都没有变更。埃斯苔娜发牌的时候，我又对梳妆台瞥了一眼。我看到放在上面的那只鞋，从前是白色的，现在已经发黄了，而且从来没有被穿过。我又看看她那只没有穿鞋的脚，看见脚上穿的那只丝袜，以前是白的，现在也已发黄，而且已经穿烂了。要是房中的物品不是处在这样一种停顿状态，要是房中那些早已褪色衰朽的东西没有衬托出死寂般的气氛，即使这变色的新娘礼服穿在色消形褪的躯体之上，也不会这么像死人衣眼，那条长长的披纱也不会这么像裹尸布。

在我们玩牌的时候，郝维仙小姐坐在那里，活像一具尸体。她身上那件婚礼礼眼的褶边和一些饰品看上去真像是土黄色的纸做的。虽然有些事我不明就里，但我听说过，很久很久以前埋在土里的尸体偶然被发现时，只要一被人们看到，便立刻化成粉末。由此，我便想到，郝维仙小姐看上去似乎只要一见到白日的阳光，也会立刻变成尘土的。

“瞧这个孩子！他把这张‘奈夫’叫做‘贾克’！”第一局牌还没有结束，埃斯苔娜便轻蔑地说道，“瞧他的手多么粗糙！瞧他穿的靴子多么笨重啊！”

过去我从来没有想过我的手会给我带来耻辱，而现在我也怀疑起我的手确实是一双难看的手来。她对我的蔑视像传染病一样也感染了我，我对自己也开始蔑视起来。

埃斯苔娜在第一局中获胜，轮到我发牌。我不可避免地发错了牌，因为我知道她正等在那里笑话我发错牌，所以一慌就出了错。于是，她指责我的机会又来了，骂我是个小笨蛋，是个粗俗的、干苦力的孩子。

“你一句也不回敬她，”郝维仙小姐看到这一切，便对我说，“她说了你许多不堪入耳的话，你却一句不说她。你觉得埃斯苔娜怎么样？”

“我不想讲。”我结结巴巴地说。

“那么你在我耳边说给我一个人听。”郝维仙小姐边说边把身子倾向我。

“我觉得她是很骄傲的。”我轻轻地对她耳语。

“还有呢？”

“我觉得她长得很漂亮。”

“还有呢？”

“我觉得她非常无礼。”我说话时埃斯苔娜正望着我，然后又做出一脸非常厌恶的神情。

“还有呢？”

“我想我要回家了。”

“她长得那么漂亮，你就不想再看到她了吗？”

“我不清楚是不是不想再看到她，但是我想我现在要回家了。”

“待一会儿你就能回家，”这时郝维仙小姐大声说道，“先把这一局牌打完。”

如果一开始没有见到过她那古怪的一笑，我肯定会认为郝维仙小姐的面孔绝对不会笑。也许当她周围的一切事物在很久以前停顿之时，她的脸就深深地陷入一种凝神沉思的表情。现在看上去似乎没有东西再能使她开颜。她的胸脯深陷了下去，使她变成了驼背；她的声音衰弱了下去，使她的话声很低，而且使人感到死神正召唤着她。总之，好像有一种致命性的打击，使她整个儿地憔悴下去，无论是肉体还是灵魂，无论是内心还是外表，统统地憔悴下去了。

我和埃斯苔娜打完了这局牌，她把我手中的牌全都吃光了，然后把所有的牌向桌上一扔，表明她大获全胜，那副神态，好像赢了我的牌简直是恶心。

“什么时候你再到我这里来呢？”郝维仙小姐说道，“让我来想一下。”

我正要提醒她说今天是星期三，她就挥动着右手的手指，带着前面提到过的那种不耐烦的神情，阻止我说下去。

“不要说了，不要说了！我不知道有什么星期几，我不知道有什么星期。过六天你再到我这儿来，听到没有？”

“听到了，夫人。”

“埃斯苔娜，带他出去，给他吃点儿东西，让他边吃边在四周走走看看。皮普，去吧。”

我跟随着烛光出去，和我刚才跟随着烛光进来一样。她把蜡烛放在我来时看到的那个老地方。我想这时一定已是黑夜了，可是她把边门打了开来，那白天的阳光一下子从外面射进来，弄得我头昏眼花。这使我感觉上似乎已在那间用蜡烛照亮的古怪房间中待了许多个小时了。

“你这孩子在这里等一下。”埃斯苔娜对我说，然后便消失了，并且关上了门。

现在只剩我一个人留在这个院子里，便趁机仔细瞧了瞧我这双粗糙的手和那双笨头笨脑的皮靴。我现在对这些东西很是瞧不起了，这些东西过去没有烦恼过我，现在却使我烦恼了。它们确是些粗俗不堪的东西。我决定回家去问问乔，为什么他总是告诉我那些牌叫做贾克，而实际上应该是奈夫。我想，如果当年乔的教养高一些，我也不至于落到这地步。

埃斯苔娜走了回来，拿来一些面包和肉，还有一小杯啤酒。她把杯子放在院子里的石板地上，把面包和肉递给我，一眼也不看我，傲慢得似乎把我当成一条可怜的小狗。我如此地丢脸，如此地伤心，如此地遭她冷眼，如此地受辱，既愤怒又难过。我找不到一个恰当的词来形容内心所受到的痛苦，也许只有上天才会知道。这痛苦使我的双眼中涌出一股泪水。就在眼泪要夺眶而出时，她望了我一眼，仿佛知道了流泪的原因和她有关，不禁喜形于色。正因为此，这倒反而给了我力量，强忍住不让眼泪再流出，并且望着她。于是，她轻视地把头高高抬起，离开了我。我想，也许她过于自信，以为伤透了我的心。

她走后，我瞧瞧四周，想找一个可以隐藏自己的地方。酒坊的过道里有几扇门，我躲到其中一扇门后，把手臂倚在墙上，把头倚在手臂上，放声大哭。我一面哭，一面踢着墙，还狠命地揪自己的头发。我实在太伤心了，那无名的痛苦是如此地折磨着我，非得发泄一番不可。

我姐姐的那种教养方法，使我形成了多愁善感的气质。在孩子们的小天地里有其自身的存在意义，无论是谁把他们养大，他们感受得最真切、最具有决定性意义的事莫过于受到不公平待遇。也许孩子们所受到的只是微不足道的一点儿虐待，但是，因为孩子本身是小的，他们的天地也是小的。在他们的心灵中，一头木马虽然只有十几英寸高，但从比例上看，和一头爱尔兰人骑的高头宽身大猎马没有什么分别。就从我的内心来说，从婴儿时起我就受到虐待，所以，我也就不断地和不公平待遇作永恒的斗争。从我刚刚学话时起，我姐姐就运用她一贯喜怒无常和狂暴肆虐的高压手段虐待我。我在思想中一直有一个坚定的信念，虽说是她把我一手带大，但她没有权利运用打骂方式一手把我带大。她对我的虐待有打骂、羞辱、不许吃饭、不许睡觉以及其他各种惩罚手段，也正是在这些惩罚中我形成了要斗争的心理。由于我生活于孤独之中，没有依靠，所以只有在自己心中自言自语。大体上，我性格上的胆怯和多愁善感就是在这种情况下养成的。

我用脚踢着造酒作坊的墙，狠命地拉扯我的头发，以此来排解郁积在心头。受了伤害的情感。然后，我用袖口抹去满面的泪水，这才又从门背后走了出来。面包和肉倒也香甜可口，啤酒似一股暖流冲入身体，使我兴奋起来，立时精神百倍，乘兴观望起四周来。

我十分肯定，这里已成为一片荒凉之地，直到酿酒大院里的鸽舍都毫无生气。支撑鸽舍的竿子被大风吹得东歪西斜，如果鸽舍中还住着几只鸽子的话，它们一定以为自己正在海上颠簸漂荡。不过这里没有鸽子，鸽舍中空空如也。马房中没有马，猪圈中没有猪，仓库中没有麦芽，连大钢罐及大酒桶中也不再散发出麦子和啤酒的香气。造酒作坊里的全部酒气都已经随着已消失的烟雾蒸发光了。在作坊的侧院里，放着一批空酒桶，发出一阵阵酒酸气，成为当年黄金时代所留下来的一点儿回味。不过，这味实在太酸，和当年啤酒的香气大不一样，算不上是残自的样品。由此，我联想到那些隐士，大部分也和隐士这个名称搭不上钩。

在造酒作坊最远的尽头，有一道旧围墙，过去是一座荒废了的园子。这道墙并不高，我只要努力站直身体，伸长颈子就可以看到园中的东西。我看到这座荒废了的园子原来是这所宅子的花园，里面杂草丛生，四处蔓延，但是在原来黄绿相间的小路上不知被谁踏出了一条足迹，好像有人不时在上面走过，好像埃斯苔娜此时正离我而去。可是，埃斯苔娜似乎无处不在。那些放在地上的酒桶吸引了我。我跳上酒桶，在一只只酒桶上走着。这时，我看到埃斯苔娜也在院子另一头的酒桶上走着。她背对着我，一头的棕色秀发从头上披下来。她用双手捧住发梢，目不旁顾，一直往前，然后便在我眼前消失了。然后我走进酿酒作坊，也就是当年酿制啤酒的地方。这里地势较高，地面铺着石板，里面还存放着从前的各种酿酒器皿。我一走进这里，那阴森的气氛就压得我透不过气来。我站在门旁边，四下里打量，看到埃斯苔娜正在几只早已熄灭了的火炉间走过，接着爬上了一座轻便铁梯，又从一道头顶上的长廊走了出去，好像她正要从那儿走到天上去。

就是在这块地方，就是在这个时刻，也许是由于我的幻觉，发生了一件奇特的事。我认为这是一件奇特的事，而且长久以后我仍认为这是一件奇特的事。当时，亮如白霜的日光使我有一点儿目眩。我抬头望见一根很大的木梁，位于靠近我右边的建筑角落里。我发现那里吊着一个人，绳子套在颈子上。这个人全身穿着泛黄的白色衣服，只有一只脚上穿了鞋子。她吊得高高的，我可以看到她衣服上已褪色的花饰，像土黄色的纸一样。再看，那张面孔，正是郝维仙小姐的脸。那整副面孔动了一下，仿佛想要叫我。看到这个人形，我恐惧万分。一想到刚才这儿还没有它，我就更加害怕。于是我开始是没命地逃离这个人形，然后却又回过头来向着它奔去，待到发现那儿根本没有什么人时，我的恐惧更是强烈得难以形容。

应当感谢晴朗天空中闪烁耀眼的阳光，以及院门铁栅栏外的过路人，再加上吃完了剩下来的面包、肉和啤酒，这才使我清醒了一些，恢复了一点正常。要不是埃斯苔娜拿了一串钥匙走来开门放我出去，所有这些也并不能使我很快地完全从惊恐中复原。她本来就掌握了几个把柄轻视我，我想，要是她现在发现我给吓得如此样子又会怎么说呢？我千万不能让她再抓住这个把柄。

埃斯苔娜走过我身边时，用得胜的眼光看了我一眼，仿佛我的双手如此粗糙以及我的皮靴如此笨重都使她欢天喜地。这时，她开了门，站在门口用手抓住门。我一眼也没看她就走了出去，而她却用手嘲弄地碰了我一下。

“为什么你不哭呢？”

“因为我不想哭。”

“我看你是想哭的，”她说道，“你刚才哭得都快把眼睛哭瞎了，现在看上去又快要哭出来了。”

她做慢地笑着，然后把我推出门去，立刻把门锁上。我直接回到彭波契克先生家中，如释重负地发现他不在家。我请店中的伙计转告彭波契克先生，告诉他郝维仙小姐要我下一次到她家的日期。然后，我就步行四英里，径自回我们的铁匠铺了。我一路走一路思考着在那里看到的一切，深刻地反思着，原来我只是一个低三下四、干粗活的小孩，我的两手是粗糙的，我的皮靴是笨重的，而且我还养成了卑劣的习气，竟然把奈夫叫成贾克。我今天才知道我是多么无知，我过的日子是多么可怜和低下。