-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Чарльз Диккенс
-
- Рождественская история
-
- Стр. 22/78
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
It
was
a
strange
figure
--
like
a
child
:
yet
not
so
like
a
child
as
like
an
old
man
,
viewed
through
some
supernatural
medium
,
which
gave
him
the
appearance
of
having
receded
from
the
view
,
and
being
diminished
to
a
child
's
proportions
.
Its
hair
,
which
hung
about
its
neck
and
down
its
back
,
was
white
as
if
with
age
;
and
yet
the
face
had
not
a
wrinkle
in
it
,
and
the
tenderest
bloom
was
on
the
skin
.
The
arms
were
very
long
and
muscular
;
the
hands
the
same
,
as
if
its
hold
were
of
uncommon
strength
.
Its
legs
and
feet
,
most
delicately
formed
,
were
,
like
those
upper
members
,
bare
.
It
wore
a
tunic
of
the
purest
white
,
and
round
its
waist
was
bound
a
lustrous
belt
,
the
sheen
of
which
was
beautiful
.
It
held
a
branch
of
fresh
green
holly
in
its
hand
;
and
,
in
singular
contradiction
of
that
wintry
emblem
,
had
its
dress
trimmed
with
summer
flowers
.
But
the
strangest
thing
about
it
was
,
that
from
the
crown
of
its
head
there
sprung
a
bright
clear
jet
of
light
,
by
which
all
this
was
visible
;
and
which
was
doubtless
the
occasion
of
its
using
,
in
its
duller
moments
,
a
great
extinguisher
for
a
cap
,
which
it
now
held
under
its
arm
.
Even
this
,
though
,
when
Scrooge
looked
at
it
with
increasing
steadiness
,
was
not
its
strangest
quality
.
For
as
its
belt
sparkled
and
glittered
now
in
one
part
and
now
in
another
,
and
what
was
light
one
instant
,
at
another
time
was
dark
,
so
the
figure
itself
fluctuated
in
its
distinctness
:
being
now
a
thing
with
one
arm
,
now
with
one
leg
,
now
with
twenty
legs
,
now
a
pair
of
legs
without
a
head
,
now
a
head
without
a
body
:
of
which
dissolving
parts
,
no
outline
would
be
visible
in
the
dense
gloom
wherein
they
melted
away
.
And
in
the
very
wonder
of
this
,
it
would
be
itself
again
;
distinct
and
clear
as
ever
.
'
Are
you
the
Spirit
,
sir
,
whose
coming
was
foretold
to
me
?
'
asked
Scrooge
.
'
I
am
.
'
The
voice
was
soft
and
gentle
.
Singularly
low
,
as
if
instead
of
being
so
close
beside
him
,
it
were
at
a
distance
.
'
Who
,
and
what
are
you
?
'
Scrooge
demanded
.
'
I
am
the
Ghost
of
Christmas
Past
.
'
'
Long
Past
?
'
inquired
Scrooge
:
observant
of
its
dwarfish
stature
.
'
No
.
Your
past
.
'
