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- Чарльз Диккенс
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Who
in
mere
lackadaisical
want
of
an
emotion
have
agreed
upon
a
little
dandy
talk
about
the
vulgar
wanting
faith
in
things
in
general
,
meaning
in
the
things
that
have
been
tried
and
found
wanting
,
as
though
a
low
fellow
should
unaccountably
lose
faith
in
a
bad
shilling
after
finding
it
out
!
Who
would
make
the
vulgar
very
picturesque
and
faithful
by
putting
back
the
hands
upon
the
clock
of
time
and
cancelling
a
few
hundred
years
of
history
.
There
are
also
ladies
and
gentlemen
of
another
fashion
,
not
so
new
,
but
very
elegant
,
who
have
agreed
to
put
a
smooth
glaze
on
the
world
and
to
keep
down
all
its
realities
.
For
whom
everything
must
be
languid
and
pretty
.
Who
have
found
out
the
perpetual
stoppage
.
Who
are
to
rejoice
at
nothing
and
be
sorry
for
nothing
.
Who
are
not
to
be
disturbed
by
ideas
.
On
whom
even
the
fine
arts
,
attending
in
powder
and
walking
backward
like
the
Lord
Chamberlain
,
must
array
themselves
in
the
milliners
’
and
tailors
’
patterns
of
past
generations
and
be
particularly
careful
not
to
be
in
earnest
or
to
receive
any
impress
from
the
moving
age
.
Then
there
is
my
Lord
Boodle
,
of
considerable
reputation
with
his
party
,
who
has
known
what
office
is
and
who
tells
Sir
Leicester
Dedlock
with
much
gravity
,
after
dinner
,
that
he
really
does
not
see
to
what
the
present
age
is
tending
.
A
debate
is
not
what
a
debate
used
to
be
;
the
House
is
not
what
the
House
used
to
be
;
even
a
Cabinet
is
not
what
it
formerly
was
.
He
perceives
with
astonishment
that
supposing
the
present
government
to
be
overthrown
,
the
limited
choice
of
the
Crown
,
in
the
formation
of
a
new
ministry
,
would
lie
between
Lord
Coodle
and
Sir
Thomas
Doodle
—
supposing
it
to
be
impossible
for
the
Duke
of
Foodle
to
act
with
Goodle
,
which
may
be
assumed
to
be
the
case
in
consequence
of
the
breach
arising
out
of
that
affair
with
Hoodle
.
Then
,
giving
the
Home
Department
and
the
leadership
of
the
House
of
Commons
to
Joodle
,
the
Exchequer
to
Koodle
,
the
Colonies
to
Loodle
,
and
the
Foreign
Office
to
Moodle
,
what
are
you
to
do
with
Noodle
?
You
can
’
t
offer
him
the
Presidency
of
the
Council
;
that
is
reserved
for
Poodle
.
You
can
’
t
put
him
in
the
Woods
and
Forests
;
that
is
hardly
good
enough
for
Quoodle
.
What
follows
?
That
the
country
is
shipwrecked
,
lost
,
and
gone
to
pieces
(
as
is
made
manifest
to
the
patriotism
of
Sir
Leicester
Dedlock
)
because
you
can
’
t
provide
for
Noodle
!
On
the
other
hand
,
the
Right
Honourable
William
Buffy
,
M
.
P
.
,
contends
across
the
table
with
some
one
else
that
the
shipwreck
of
the
country
—
about
which
there
is
no
doubt
;
it
is
only
the
manner
of
it
that
is
in
question
—
is
attributable
to
Cuffy
.
If
you
had
done
with
Cuffy
what
you
ought
to
have
done
when
he
first
came
into
Parliament
,
and
had
prevented
him
from
going
over
to
Duffy
,
you
would
have
got
him
into
alliance
with
Fuffy
,
you
would
have
had
with
you
the
weight
attaching
as
a
smart
debater
to
Guffy
,
you
would
have
brought
to
bear
upon
the
elections
the
wealth
of
Huffy
,
you
would
have
got
in
for
three
counties
Juffy
,
Kuffy
,
and
Luffy
,
and
you
would
have
strengthened
your
administration
by
the
official
knowledge
and
the
business
habits
of
Muffy
.
All
this
,
instead
of
being
as
you
now
are
,
dependent
on
the
mere
caprice
of
Puffy
!
As
to
this
point
,
and
as
to
some
minor
topics
,
there
are
differences
of
opinion
;
but
it
is
perfectly
clear
to
the
brilliant
and
distinguished
circle
,
all
round
,
that
nobody
is
in
question
but
Boodle
and
his
retinue
,
and
Buffy
and
HIS
retinue
.
These
are
the
great
actors
for
whom
the
stage
is
reserved
.
A
People
there
are
,
no
doubt
—
a
certain
large
number
of
supernumeraries
,
who
are
to
be
occasionally
addressed
,
and
relied
upon
for
shouts
and
choruses
,
as
on
the
theatrical
stage
;
but
Boodle
and
Buffy
,
their
followers
and
families
,
their
heirs
,
executors
,
administrators
,
and
assigns
,
are
the
born
first
-
actors
,
managers
,
and
leaders
,
and
no
others
can
appear
upon
the
scene
for
ever
and
ever
.
In
this
,
too
,
there
is
perhaps
more
dandyism
at
Chesney
Wold
than
the
brilliant
and
distinguished
circle
will
find
good
for
itself
in
the
long
run
.
For
it
is
,
even
with
the
stillest
and
politest
circles
,
as
with
the
circle
the
necromancer
draws
around
him
—
very
strange
appearances
may
be
seen
in
active
motion
outside
.
With
this
difference
,
that
being
realities
and
not
phantoms
,
there
is
the
greater
danger
of
their
breaking
in
.
Chesney
Wold
is
quite
full
anyhow
,
so
full
that
a
burning
sense
of
injury
arises
in
the
breasts
of
ill
-
lodged
ladies
’
-
maids
,
and
is
not
to
be
extinguished
.
Only
one
room
is
empty
.
It
is
a
turret
chamber
of
the
third
order
of
merit
,
plainly
but
comfortably
furnished
and
having
an
old
-
fashioned
business
air
.
It
is
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
’
s
room
,
and
is
never
bestowed
on
anybody
else
,
for
he
may
come
at
any
time
.
He
is
not
come
yet
.
It
is
his
quiet
habit
to
walk
across
the
park
from
the
village
in
fine
weather
,
to
drop
into
this
room
as
if
he
had
never
been
out
of
it
since
he
was
last
seen
there
,
to
request
a
servant
to
inform
Sir
Leicester
that
he
is
arrived
in
case
he
should
be
wanted
,
and
to
appear
ten
minutes
before
dinner
in
the
shadow
of
the
library
-
door
.
He
sleeps
in
his
turret
with
a
complaining
flag
-
staff
over
his
head
,
and
has
some
leads
outside
on
which
,
any
fine
morning
when
he
is
down
here
,
his
black
figure
may
be
seen
walking
before
breakfast
like
a
larger
species
of
rook
.
Every
day
before
dinner
,
my
Lady
looks
for
him
in
the
dusk
of
the
library
,
but
he
is
not
there
.
Every
day
at
dinner
,
my
Lady
glances
down
the
table
for
the
vacant
place
that
would
be
waiting
to
receive
him
if
he
had
just
arrived
,
but
there
is
no
vacant
place
.
Every
night
my
Lady
casually
asks
her
maid
,
"
Is
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
come
?
"
Every
night
the
answer
is
,
"
No
,
my
Lady
,
not
yet
.
"
One
night
,
while
having
her
hair
undressed
,
my
Lady
loses
herself
in
deep
thought
after
this
reply
until
she
sees
her
own
brooding
face
in
the
opposite
glass
,
and
a
pair
of
black
eyes
curiously
observing
her
.
"
Be
so
good
as
to
attend
,
"
says
my
Lady
then
,
addressing
the
reflection
of
Hortense
,
"
to
your
business
.
You
can
contemplate
your
beauty
at
another
time
.
"
"
Pardon
!
It
was
your
Ladyship
’
s
beauty
.
"
"
That
,
"
says
my
Lady
,
"
you
needn
’
t
contemplate
at
all
.
"
At
length
,
one
afternoon
a
little
before
sunset
,
when
the
bright
groups
of
figures
which
have
for
the
last
hour
or
two
enlivened
the
Ghost
’
s
Walk
are
all
dispersed
and
only
Sir
Leicester
and
my
Lady
remain
upon
the
terrace
,
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
appears
.
He
comes
towards
them
at
his
usual
methodical
pace
,
which
is
never
quickened
,
never
slackened
.
He
wears
his
usual
expressionless
mask
—
if
it
be
a
mask
—
and
carries
family
secrets
in
every
limb
of
his
body
and
every
crease
of
his
dress
.
Whether
his
whole
soul
is
devoted
to
the
great
or
whether
he
yields
them
nothing
beyond
the
services
he
sells
is
his
personal
secret
.
He
keeps
it
,
as
he
keeps
the
secrets
of
his
clients
;
he
is
his
own
client
in
that
matter
,
and
will
never
betray
himself
.
"
How
do
you
do
,
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
?
"
says
Sir
Leicester
,
giving
him
his
hand
.
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
is
quite
well
.
Sir
Leicester
is
quite
well
.
My
Lady
is
quite
well
.
All
highly
satisfactory
.
The
lawyer
,
with
his
hands
behind
him
,
walks
at
Sir
Leicester
’
s
side
along
the
terrace
.
My
Lady
walks
upon
the
other
side
.
"
We
expected
you
before
,
"
says
Sir
Leicester
.
A
gracious
observation
.
As
much
as
to
say
,
"
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
,
we
remember
your
existence
when
you
are
not
here
to
remind
us
of
it
by
your
presence
.
We
bestow
a
fragment
of
our
minds
upon
you
,
sir
,
you
see
!
"
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
,
comprehending
it
,
inclines
his
head
and
says
he
is
much
obliged
.
"
I
should
have
come
down
sooner
,
"
he
explains
,
"
but
that
I
have
been
much
engaged
with
those
matters
in
the
several
suits
between
yourself
and
Boythorn
.
"
"
A
man
of
a
very
ill
-
regulated
mind
,
"
observes
Sir
Leicester
with
severity
.
"
An
extremely
dangerous
person
in
any
community
.
A
man
of
a
very
low
character
of
mind
.
"
"
He
is
obstinate
,
"
says
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
.
"
It
is
natural
to
such
a
man
to
be
so
,
"
says
Sir
Leicester
,
looking
most
profoundly
obstinate
himself
.
"
I
am
not
at
all
surprised
to
hear
it
.
"
"
The
only
question
is
,
"
pursues
the
lawyer
,
"
whether
you
will
give
up
anything
.
"
"
No
,
sir
,
"
replies
Sir
Leicester
.
"
Nothing
.
I
give
up
?
"
"
I
don
’
t
mean
anything
of
importance
.
That
,
of
course
,
I
know
you
would
not
abandon
.
I
mean
any
minor
point
.
"
"
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
,
"
returns
Sir
Leicester
,
"
there
can
be
no
minor
point
between
myself
and
Mr
.
Boythorn
.
If
I
go
farther
,
and
observe
that
I
cannot
readily
conceive
how
ANY
right
of
mine
can
be
a
minor
point
,
I
speak
not
so
much
in
reference
to
myself
as
an
individual
as
in
reference
to
the
family
position
I
have
it
in
charge
to
maintain
.
"
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
inclines
his
head
again
.
"
I
have
now
my
instructions
,
"
he
says
.
"
Mr
.
Boythorn
will
give
us
a
good
deal
of
trouble
—
"
"
It
is
the
character
of
such
a
mind
,
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
,
"
Sir
Leicester
interrupts
him
,
"
TO
give
trouble
.
An
exceedingly
ill
-
conditioned
,
levelling
person
.
A
person
who
,
fifty
years
ago
,
would
probably
have
been
tried
at
the
Old
Bailey
for
some
demagogue
proceeding
,
and
severely
punished
—
if
not
,
"
adds
Sir
Leicester
after
a
moment
’
s
pause
,
"
if
not
hanged
,
drawn
,
and
quartered
.
"
Sir
Leicester
appears
to
discharge
his
stately
breast
of
a
burden
in
passing
this
capital
sentence
,
as
if
it
were
the
next
satisfactory
thing
to
having
the
sentence
executed
.
"
But
night
is
coming
on
,
"
says
he
,
"
and
my
Lady
will
take
cold
.
My
dear
,
let
us
go
in
.
"
As
they
turn
towards
the
hall
-
door
,
Lady
Dedlock
addresses
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
for
the
first
time
.
"
You
sent
me
a
message
respecting
the
person
whose
writing
I
happened
to
inquire
about
.
It
was
like
you
to
remember
the
circumstance
;
I
had
quite
forgotten
it
.
Your
message
reminded
me
of
it
again
.
I
can
’
t
imagine
what
association
I
had
with
a
hand
like
that
,
but
I
surely
had
some
.
"
"
You
had
some
?
"
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
repeats
.
"
Oh
,
yes
!
"
returns
my
Lady
carelessly
.
"
I
think
I
must
have
had
some
.
And
did
you
really
take
the
trouble
to
find
out
the
writer
of
that
actual
thing
—
what
is
it
!
—
affidavit
?
"
"
Yes
.
"
"
How
very
odd
!
"
They
pass
into
a
sombre
breakfast
-
room
on
the
ground
floor
,
lighted
in
the
day
by
two
deep
windows
.
It
is
now
twilight
.
The
fire
glows
brightly
on
the
panelled
wall
and
palely
on
the
window
-
glass
,
where
,
through
the
cold
reflection
of
the
blaze
,
the
colder
landscape
shudders
in
the
wind
and
a
grey
mist
creeps
along
,
the
only
traveller
besides
the
waste
of
clouds
.
My
Lady
lounges
in
a
great
chair
in
the
chimney
-
corner
,
and
Sir
Leicester
takes
another
great
chair
opposite
.
The
lawyer
stands
before
the
fire
with
his
hand
out
at
arm
’
s
length
,
shading
his
face
.
He
looks
across
his
arm
at
my
Lady
.
"
Yes
,
"
he
says
,
"
I
inquired
about
the
man
,
and
found
him
.
And
,
what
is
very
strange
,
I
found
him
—
"
"
Not
to
be
any
out
-
of
-
the
-
way
person
,
I
am
afraid
!
"
Lady
Dedlock
languidly
anticipates
.
"
I
found
him
dead
.
"
"
Oh
,
dear
me
!
"
remonstrated
Sir
Leicester
.
Not
so
much
shocked
by
the
fact
as
by
the
fact
of
the
fact
being
mentioned
.
"
I
was
directed
to
his
lodging
—
a
miserable
,
poverty
-
stricken
place
—
and
I
found
him
dead
.
"
"
You
will
excuse
me
,
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
,
"
observes
Sir
Leicester
.
"
I
think
the
less
said
—
"
"
Pray
,
Sir
Leicester
,
let
me
hear
the
story
out
"
(
it
is
my
Lady
speaking
)
.
"
It
is
quite
a
story
for
twilight
.
How
very
shocking
!
Dead
?
"
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
re
-
asserts
it
by
another
inclination
of
his
head
.
"
Whether
by
his
own
hand
—
"
"
Upon
my
honour
!
"
cries
Sir
Leicester
.
"
Really
!
"
"
Do
let
me
hear
the
story
!
"
says
my
Lady
.
"
Whatever
you
desire
,
my
dear
.
But
,
I
must
say
—
"
"
No
,
you
mustn
’
t
say
!
Go
on
,
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
.
"
Sir
Leicester
’
s
gallantry
concedes
the
point
,
though
he
still
feels
that
to
bring
this
sort
of
squalor
among
the
upper
classes
is
really
—
really
—
"
I
was
about
to
say
,
"
resumes
the
lawyer
with
undisturbed
calmness
,
"
that
whether
he
had
died
by
his
own
hand
or
not
,
it
was
beyond
my
power
to
tell
you
.
I
should
amend
that
phrase
,
however
,
by
saying
that
he
had
unquestionably
died
of
his
own
act
,
though
whether
by
his
own
deliberate
intention
or
by
mischance
can
never
certainly
be
known
.
The
coroner
’
s
jury
found
that
he
took
the
poison
accidentally
.
"
"
And
what
kind
of
man
,
"
my
Lady
asks
,
"
was
this
deplorable
creature
?
"
"
Very
difficult
to
say
,
"
returns
the
lawyer
,
shaking
his
head
.
"
He
had
lived
so
wretchedly
and
was
so
neglected
,
with
his
gipsy
colour
and
his
wild
black
hair
and
beard
,
that
I
should
have
considered
him
the
commonest
of
the
common
.
The
surgeon
had
a
notion
that
he
had
once
been
something
better
,
both
in
appearance
and
condition
.
"
"
What
did
they
call
the
wretched
being
?
"
"
They
called
him
what
he
had
called
himself
,
but
no
one
knew
his
name
.
"
"
Not
even
any
one
who
had
attended
on
him
?
"
"
No
one
had
attended
on
him
.
He
was
found
dead
.
In
fact
,
I
found
him
.
"
"
Without
any
clue
to
anything
more
?
"
"
Without
any
;
there
was
,
"
says
the
lawyer
meditatively
,
"
an
old
portmanteau
,
but
—
No
,
there
were
no
papers
.
"
During
the
utterance
of
every
word
of
this
short
dialogue
,
Lady
Dedlock
and
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
,
without
any
other
alteration
in
their
customary
deportment
,
have
looked
very
steadily
at
one
another
—
as
was
natural
,
perhaps
,
in
the
discussion
of
so
unusual
a
subject
.
Sir
Leicester
has
looked
at
the
fire
,
with
the
general
expression
of
the
Dedlock
on
the
staircase
.
The
story
being
told
,
he
renews
his
stately
protest
,
saying
that
as
it
is
quite
clear
that
no
association
in
my
Lady
’
s
mind
can
possibly
be
traceable
to
this
poor
wretch
(
unless
he
was
a
begging
-
letter
writer
)
,
he
trusts
to
hear
no
more
about
a
subject
so
far
removed
from
my
Lady
’
s
station
.
"
Certainly
,
a
collection
of
horrors
,
"
says
my
Lady
,
gathering
up
her
mantles
and
furs
,
"
but
they
interest
one
for
the
moment
!
Have
the
kindness
,
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
,
to
open
the
door
for
me
.
"
Mr
Tulkinghorn
does
so
with
deference
and
holds
it
open
while
she
passes
out
.
She
passes
close
to
him
,
with
her
usual
fatigued
manner
and
insolent
grace
.
They
meet
again
at
dinner
—
again
,
next
day
—
again
,
for
many
days
in
succession
.
Lady
Dedlock
is
always
the
same
exhausted
deity
,
surrounded
by
worshippers
,
and
terribly
liable
to
be
bored
to
death
,
even
while
presiding
at
her
own
shrine
.
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
is
always
the
same
speechless
repository
of
noble
confidences
,
so
oddly
out
of
place
and
yet
so
perfectly
at
home
.
They
appear
to
take
as
little
note
of
one
another
as
any
two
people
enclosed
within
the
same
walls
could
.
But
whether
each
evermore
watches
and
suspects
the
other
,
evermore
mistrustful
of
some
great
reservation
;
whether
each
is
evermore
prepared
at
all
points
for
the
other
,
and
never
to
be
taken
unawares
;
what
each
would
give
to
know
how
much
the
other
knows
—
all
this
is
hidden
,
for
the
time
,
in
their
own
hearts
.
