Ярмарка тщеславия / Vanity Fair - стр. 11

Cuff, who had come to himself by this time, and was washing his wounds, stood up and said, “It’s my fault, sir – not Figs’ – not Dobbin’s. I was bullying a little boy; and he served me right.” By which speech he not only saved his conqueror a whipping, but got back all his ascendancy over the boys which his defeat had nearly cost him.[10]

In consequence of Dobbin’s victory, his character rose prodigiously in the estimation of all his schoolfellows, and the name of Figs became as respectable and popular a nickname as any other in use in the school. “After all, it’s not his fault that his father’s a grocer,” George Osborne said, who, though a little chap, had a very high popularity among the Swishtail youth; and his opinion was received with great applause. It was voted low to sneer at Dobbin about this accident of birth. “Old Figs” grew to be a name of kindness and endearment.

And Dobbin’s spirit rose with his altered circumstances. He made wonderful advances in scholastic learning. Dobbin was much too modest a young fellow to suppose that this happy change in all his circumstances arose from his own generous and manly disposition: he chose to attribute his good fortune to George Osborne, to whom he vowed such a love and affection as is only felt by children. He flung himself down at little Osborne’s feet, and loved him. He believed Osborne to be the possessor of every perfection, to be the handsomest, the bravest, the most active, the cleverest, the most generous of created boys. He shared his money with him.

So that Lieutenant Osborne, when coming to Russell Square on the day of the Vauxhall party, said to the ladies, “Mrs. Sedley, Ma’am, I hope you have room; I’ve asked Dobbin of ours to come and dine here, and go with us to Vauxhall. He’s almost as modest as Jos.”

That evening, when Amelia came into the drawing room as fresh as a rose – a very tall gentleman, with large hands and feet, and large ears, advanced to meet her, and made her one of the clumsiest bows. This was no other than Captain William Dobbin, of His Majesty’s Regiment of Foot, returned from yellow fever, in the West Indies.

When she held out her hand for him to shake, before he enveloped it in his own, he paused, and thought – ”Well, is it possible – are you the little maid such a short time ago? What a blooming young creature you seem!” All this he thought, before he took Amelia’s hand into his own.

Young Osborne followed presently in the same regiment. They had served in the West Indies and in Canada. Their regiment had just come home, and the attachment of Dobbin to George Osborne was as warm and generous now as it had been when the two were schoolboys. So these worthy people sat down to dinner presently. They talked about war and glory. Miss Sharp kindled with this exciting talk, but Miss Sedley trembled and grew quite faint as she heard it. Mr. Jos told several of his tiger-hunting stories, helped Rebecca to everything on the table, drank a great deal.

“He’s priming himself,” Osborne whispered to Dobbin, and at length the hour and the carriage arrived for Vauxhall.

The argument stands thus – Osborne, in love with Amelia, has asked an old friend to dinner and to Vauxhall – Jos Sedley is in love with Rebecca. Will he marry her? That is the great subject now in hand. Let us then step into the coach with the Russell Square party, and be off to the Gardens. There is barely room between Jos and Miss Sharp, who are on the front seat. Mr. Osborne sitting opposite, between Captain Dobbin and Amelia.