Great Expectations Page #2

but we wouldn't have you starve for it,

poor miserable fellow creature,

would us, Pip?

Give way, you.

Cast off there!

It was a year later...

Now, if that boy ain't grateful this day,

he never will be.

- It's to be hoped he won't be pampered.

- Not by Miss Havisham, ma'am.

- She knows better.

- Do you know who Miss Havisham is?

- Yes.

- Who?

She's the strange lady in the large house.

- But she's mad, ain't she?

- She may be mad,

but she's rich enough

to make his fortune.

She wants him to play there. And he'd

better play there or else I'll work him.

Well, I wonder how she comes

to know our Pip.

Oh, Lor-a-mussy me!

Here I stand talking to mere mooncalves,

Uncle Pumblechook waiting,

and that boy grimed with dirt

from his head to his feet.

Ow!

Ring the bell, boy!

- What name?

- Pumblechook.

Quite right.

- Can you read the time, boy?

- Yes, sir.

- A quarter past three.

- Punctual to the minute.

Let it be a lesson to you.

This is Pip.

So this is Pip, is it?

Come in, Pip.

- Do you wish to see Miss Havisham?

- If Miss Havisham wishes to see me.

Ah, but you see, she doesn't.

Come along, boy.

Your clock's stopped, Miss.

It should say a quarter past three.

Don't loiter, boy!

Come along, boy!

Take your hat off!

This door, boy.

- After you, Miss.

- Don't be silly. I'm not going in.

Come in.

Who is it?

- Pip, ma'am.

- Pip?

Mr. Pumblechook's boy. Come to play.

Come nearer.

Let me look at you.

Come close.

Look at me.

You're not afraid of a woman who has

never seen the sun since you were born?

No.

Do you know what I touch... here?

- Your heart.

- Broken!

I sometimes have sick fancies.

And I have a fancy

I should like to see someone play.

Play.

Play.

Estella, come here.

Your own, one day, my dear.

And you will use it well.

Let me see you play cards

with this boy.

With this boy?

But he is a common laboring boy.

And look at his boots.

Well...

you can break his heart.

What do you play, boy?

- Only beggar my neighbor.

- Beggar him.

- Four for the ace.

- One for a jack.

He calls the knaves "jacks", this boy.

And what coarse hands he has.

You stupid, clumsy, laboring boy!

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.

Tell me... in my ear.

I think she is very proud.

Anything else?

I think she's very pretty.

Anything else?

I think she is very insulting.

Anything else?

I think I should like to go home now.

And never see her again,

though she is so pretty?

I'm not sure

that I wouldn't like to see her again,

but I think I'd like to go home now.

You shall go home soon.

Play the game out.

Wait here, boy.

- Why don't you cry?

- Because I don't want to.

You do. You've been crying

and you're near crying now.

Long after I had gone to bed that

night, I thought of Estella,

and how common she would

consider Joe, a mere blacksmith.

I thought how he and my sister

were sitting in the kitchen,

and how Miss Havisham

and Estella never sat in a kitchen,

but were far above

the level of such common things.

The following week...

You're to come this way today, boy.

Well, I'm sure! What next?

The idea!

Well?

- Well, Miss?

- Am I pretty?

Yes, I think you are very pretty.

Am I insulting?

No, not so much so as you were

last time.

- Not so much so?

- No.

There! Take that,

you coarse little monster.

- What do you think of me now?

- I shan't tell you.

Because you're going to tell upstairs,

is that it?

No, that's not it.

Why don't you cry again,

you little wretch?

I'll never cry for you again.

In there, boy.

Oh!

So the days have worn away, have they?

- Yes, ma'am. Today...

- There, there.

I know nothing of days of the week,

nothing of weeks of the year.

Do you know what that is?

- There?

- I can't guess what it is, ma'am.

It's a great cake. A bride-cake.

Mine.

On this day of the year,

long before you were born,

this heap of decay was brought here.

It and I have worn away together.

Mice have gnawed at it.

And sharper teeth

than teeth of mice have gnawed at me.

There, there.

Walk me.

Walk me! Walk me!

Dear Miss Havisham.

Good morning, Miss Havisham.

- How well you look.

- I do not look well, Sarah Pocket.

I am yellow skin and bone.

Those, Pip, are my relations,

the Pockets.

They are very particularly

interested in my health.

So, once a year, on my birthday,

I summon them to visit me.

- Many ha...

- There!

Pip, my dear,

run into the garden and play.

Estella will tell you when to come back.

Yes, ma'am.

Hello, young fellow!

- Hello.

- Who gave you leave to prowl about?

Miss Estella.

Come and fight.

Oh, stop a minute, though. I ought

to give you a reason for fighting, too.

There it is. Come on.

- Are you satisfied with the ground?

- Quite satisfied, thank you.

Good.

- Ready?

- Ready.

That means you've won.

Can I help you?

No, thankee. I'm quite all right.

- Good afternoon, then.

- Same to you.

Boy!

Boy!

Yes, Miss?

You may kiss me, if you like.

Now you are to go home.

Three months later,

my sister became ill

and was laid to rest

in the churchyard on the marshes.

The occasion was marked for me,

not so much by the passing of Mrs. Joe,

as by the arrival of Biddy.

Very soon she became

a trusted friend to both of us

and a blessing to the household.

Biddy, I want you to help me.

Don't I help you, Pip?

Oh, yes, you help me a lot

with my letters and figures,

but this is a secret.

Oh, what is it?

- Biddy.

- Yes?

- Biddy, I want to be a gentleman.

- A gentleman?

Oh, I wouldn't if I was you, Pip.

I don't think it would answer.

Biddy, I have a particular reason

for wanting to be a gentleman.

Well, you know best, Pip, but don't

you think you're happy as you are?

I'm not happy as I am.

I'm coarse and common.

Coarse and common,

are you, Pip? Who said so?

The beautiful young lady at

Miss Havisham's.

And I want to be a gentleman

on her account.

- Whom have we here?

- A boy.

- A boy of the neighborhood, hey?

- Yes, sir.

- How do you come here?

- Miss Havisham sent for me, sir.

Well, behave yourself.

I have a pretty large experience of boys

and you're a bad lot of fellows.

- Mind you behave yourself.

- Yes, sir.

- Take this in there, boy.

- Yes, Miss.

From this moment,

I entered upon the occupation

of pushing Miss Havisham in her chair.

As we began to be more

used to one another,

Miss Havisham talked more to me

and asked me such questions

as what I'd learnt

and what I was going to be.

Estella was always there,

and always let me in and out,

but never told me

I might kiss her again.

Sometimes she would

coldly tolerate me.

Other times,

she told me energetically...

I hate you!

My admiration of her

knew no bounds

and scarce a night went by

without falling asleep with the image

of her pretty face before my eyes.

One day...

Does she grow

prettier and prettier, Pip?

Yes, Miss Havisham.

There, there.

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