-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Чарльз Диккенс
-
- Холодный дом
-
- Стр. 46/128
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
When
he
dines
alone
in
chambers
,
as
he
has
dined
to
-
day
,
and
has
his
bit
of
fish
and
his
steak
or
chicken
brought
in
from
the
coffee
-
house
,
he
descends
with
a
candle
to
the
echoing
regions
below
the
deserted
mansion
,
and
heralded
by
a
remote
reverberation
of
thundering
doors
,
comes
gravely
back
encircled
by
an
earthy
atmosphere
and
carrying
a
bottle
from
which
he
pours
a
radiant
nectar
,
two
score
and
ten
years
old
,
that
blushes
in
the
glass
to
find
itself
so
famous
and
fills
the
whole
room
with
the
fragrance
of
southern
grapes
.
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
,
sitting
in
the
twilight
by
the
open
window
,
enjoys
his
wine
.
As
if
it
whispered
to
him
of
its
fifty
years
of
silence
and
seclusion
,
it
shuts
him
up
the
closer
.
More
impenetrable
than
ever
,
he
sits
,
and
drinks
,
and
mellows
as
it
were
in
secrecy
,
pondering
at
that
twilight
hour
on
all
the
mysteries
he
knows
,
associated
with
darkening
woods
in
the
country
,
and
vast
blank
shut
-
up
houses
in
town
,
and
perhaps
sparing
a
thought
or
two
for
himself
,
and
his
family
history
,
and
his
money
,
and
his
will
—
all
a
mystery
to
every
one
—
and
that
one
bachelor
friend
of
his
,
a
man
of
the
same
mould
and
a
lawyer
too
,
who
lived
the
same
kind
of
life
until
he
was
seventy
-
five
years
old
,
and
then
suddenly
conceiving
(
as
it
is
supposed
)
an
impression
that
it
was
too
monotonous
,
gave
his
gold
watch
to
his
hair
-
dresser
one
summer
evening
and
walked
leisurely
home
to
the
Temple
and
hanged
himself
.
But
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
is
not
alone
to
-
night
to
ponder
at
his
usual
length
.
Seated
at
the
same
table
,
though
with
his
chair
modestly
and
uncomfortably
drawn
a
little
way
from
it
,
sits
a
bald
,
mild
,
shining
man
who
coughs
respectfully
behind
his
hand
when
the
lawyer
bids
him
fill
his
glass
.
"
Now
,
Snagsby
,
"
says
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
,
"
to
go
over
this
odd
story
again
.
"
"
If
you
please
,
sir
.
"
"
You
told
me
when
you
were
so
good
as
to
step
round
here
last
night
—
"
"
For
which
I
must
ask
you
to
excuse
me
if
it
was
a
liberty
,
sir
;
but
I
remember
that
you
had
taken
a
sort
of
an
interest
in
that
person
,
and
I
thought
it
possible
that
you
might
—
just
—
wish
—
to
—
"
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
is
not
the
man
to
help
him
to
any
conclusion
or
to
admit
anything
as
to
any
possibility
concerning
himself
.
So
Mr
.
Snagsby
trails
off
into
saying
,
with
an
awkward
cough
,
"
I
must
ask
you
to
excuse
the
liberty
,
sir
,
I
am
sure
.
"
"
Not
at
all
,
"
says
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
.
"
You
told
me
,
Snagsby
,
that
you
put
on
your
hat
and
came
round
without
mentioning
your
intention
to
your
wife
.
That
was
prudent
I
think
,
because
it
’
s
not
a
matter
of
such
importance
that
it
requires
to
be
mentioned
.
"
"
Well
,
sir
,
"
returns
Mr
.
Snagsby
,
"
you
see
,
my
little
woman
is
—
not
to
put
too
fine
a
point
upon
it
—
inquisitive
.
She
’
s
inquisitive
.
Poor
little
thing
,
she
’
s
liable
to
spasms
,
and
it
’
s
good
for
her
to
have
her
mind
employed
.
In
consequence
of
which
she
employs
it
—
I
should
say
upon
every
individual
thing
she
can
lay
hold
of
,
whether
it
concerns
her
or
not
—
especially
not
.
My
little
woman
has
a
very
active
mind
,
sir
.
"
Mr
.
Snagsby
drinks
and
murmurs
with
an
admiring
cough
behind
his
hand
,
"
Dear
me
,
very
fine
wine
indeed
!
"
"
Therefore
you
kept
your
visit
to
yourself
last
night
?
"
says
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
.
"
And
to
-
night
too
?
"
"
Yes
,
sir
,
and
to
-
night
,
too
.
My
little
woman
is
at
present
in
—
not
to
put
too
fine
a
point
on
it
—
in
a
pious
state
,
or
in
what
she
considers
such
,
and
attends
the
Evening
Exertions
(
which
is
the
name
they
go
by
)
of
a
reverend
party
of
the
name
of
Chadband
.
He
has
a
great
deal
of
eloquence
at
his
command
,
undoubtedly
,
but
I
am
not
quite
favourable
to
his
style
myself
.
That
’
s
neither
here
nor
there
.
My
little
woman
being
engaged
in
that
way
made
it
easier
for
me
to
step
round
in
a
quiet
manner
.
"
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
assents
.
"
Fill
your
glass
,
Snagsby
.
"
"
Thank
you
,
sir
,
I
am
sure
,
"
returns
the
stationer
with
his
cough
of
deference
.
"
This
is
wonderfully
fine
wine
,
sir
!
"
"
It
is
a
rare
wine
now
,
"
says
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
.
"
It
is
fifty
years
old
.
"
"
Is
it
indeed
,
sir
?
But
I
am
not
surprised
to
hear
it
,
I
am
sure
.
It
might
be
—
any
age
almost
.
"
After
rendering
this
general
tribute
to
the
port
,
Mr
.
Snagsby
in
his
modesty
coughs
an
apology
behind
his
hand
for
drinking
anything
so
precious
.
"
Will
you
run
over
,
once
again
,
what
the
boy
said
?
"
asks
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
,
putting
his
hands
into
the
pockets
of
his
rusty
smallclothes
and
leaning
quietly
back
in
his
chair
.
"
With
pleasure
,
sir
.
"
Then
,
with
fidelity
,
though
with
some
prolixity
,
the
law
-
stationer
repeats
Jo
’
s
statement
made
to
the
assembled
guests
at
his
house
.
On
coming
to
the
end
of
his
narrative
,
he
gives
a
great
start
and
breaks
off
with
,
"
Dear
me
,
sir
,
I
wasn
’
t
aware
there
was
any
other
gentleman
present
!
"
Mr
.
Snagsby
is
dismayed
to
see
,
standing
with
an
attentive
face
between
himself
and
the
lawyer
at
a
little
distance
from
the
table
,
a
person
with
a
hat
and
stick
in
his
hand
who
was
not
there
when
he
himself
came
in
and
has
not
since
entered
by
the
door
or
by
either
of
the
windows
.
There
is
a
press
in
the
room
,
but
its
hinges
have
not
creaked
,
nor
has
a
step
been
audible
upon
the
floor
.
Yet
this
third
person
stands
there
with
his
attentive
face
,
and
his
hat
and
stick
in
his
hands
,
and
his
hands
behind
him
,
a
composed
and
quiet
listener
.
He
is
a
stoutly
built
,
steady
-
looking
,
sharp
-
eyed
man
in
black
,
of
about
the
middle
-
age
.
Except
that
he
looks
at
Mr
.
Snagsby
as
if
he
were
going
to
take
his
portrait
,
there
is
nothing
remarkable
about
him
at
first
sight
but
his
ghostly
manner
of
appearing
.
"
Don
’
t
mind
this
gentleman
,
"
says
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
in
his
quiet
way
.
"
This
is
only
Mr
.
Bucket
.
"
"
Oh
,
indeed
,
sir
?
"
returns
the
stationer
,
expressing
by
a
cough
that
he
is
quite
in
the
dark
as
to
who
Mr
.
Bucket
may
be
.
"
I
wanted
him
to
hear
this
story
,
"
says
the
lawyer
,
"
because
I
have
half
a
mind
(
for
a
reason
)
to
know
more
of
it
,
and
he
is
very
intelligent
in
such
things
.
What
do
you
say
to
this
,
Bucket
?
"
"
It
’
s
very
plain
,
sir
.
Since
our
people
have
moved
this
boy
on
,
and
he
’
s
not
to
be
found
on
his
old
lay
,
if
Mr
.
Snagsby
don
’
t
object
to
go
down
with
me
to
Tom
-
all
-
Alone
’
s
and
point
him
out
,
we
can
have
him
here
in
less
than
a
couple
of
hours
’
time
.
I
can
do
it
without
Mr
.
Snagsby
,
of
course
,
but
this
is
the
shortest
way
.
"
"
Mr
.
Bucket
is
a
detective
officer
,
Snagsby
,
"
says
the
lawyer
in
explanation
.
"
Is
he
indeed
,
sir
?
"
says
Mr
.
Snagsby
with
a
strong
tendency
in
his
clump
of
hair
to
stand
on
end
.
"
And
if
you
have
no
real
objection
to
accompany
Mr
.
Bucket
to
the
place
in
question
,
"
pursues
the
lawyer
,
"
I
shall
feel
obliged
to
you
if
you
will
do
so
.
"
In
a
moment
’
s
hesitation
on
the
part
of
Mr
.
Snagsby
,
Bucket
dips
down
to
the
bottom
of
his
mind
.
"
Don
’
t
you
be
afraid
of
hurting
the
boy
,
"
he
says
.
"
You
won
’
t
do
that
.
It
’
s
all
right
as
far
as
the
boy
’
s
concerned
.
We
shall
only
bring
him
here
to
ask
him
a
question
or
so
I
want
to
put
to
him
,
and
he
’
ll
be
paid
for
his
trouble
and
sent
away
again
.
It
’
ll
be
a
good
job
for
him
.
I
promise
you
,
as
a
man
,
that
you
shall
see
the
boy
sent
away
all
right
.
Don
’
t
you
be
afraid
of
hurting
him
;
you
an
’
t
going
to
do
that
.
"
"
Very
well
,
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
!
"
cries
Mr
.
Snagsby
cheerfully
.
And
reassured
,
"
Since
that
’
s
the
case
—
"
"
Yes
!
And
lookee
here
,
Mr
.
Snagsby
,
"
resumes
Bucket
,
taking
him
aside
by
the
arm
,
tapping
him
familiarly
on
the
breast
,
and
speaking
in
a
confidential
tone
.
"
You
’
re
a
man
of
the
world
,
you
know
,
and
a
man
of
business
,
and
a
man
of
sense
.
That
’
s
what
YOU
are
.
"
"
I
am
sure
I
am
much
obliged
to
you
for
your
good
opinion
,
"
returns
the
stationer
with
his
cough
of
modesty
,
"
but
—
"
"
That
’
s
what
YOU
are
,
you
know
,
"
says
Bucket
.
"
Now
,
it
an
’
t
necessary
to
say
to
a
man
like
you
,
engaged
in
your
business
,
which
is
a
business
of
trust
and
requires
a
person
to
be
wide
awake
and
have
his
senses
about
him
and
his
head
screwed
on
tight
(
I
had
an
uncle
in
your
business
once
)
—
it
an
’
t
necessary
to
say
to
a
man
like
you
that
it
’
s
the
best
and
wisest
way
to
keep
little
matters
like
this
quiet
.
Don
’
t
you
see
?
Quiet
!
"
"
Certainly
,
certainly
,
"
returns
the
other
.
"
I
don
’
t
mind
telling
YOU
,
"
says
Bucket
with
an
engaging
appearance
of
frankness
,
"
that
as
far
as
I
can
understand
it
,
there
seems
to
be
a
doubt
whether
this
dead
person
wasn
’
t
entitled
to
a
little
property
,
and
whether
this
female
hasn
’
t
been
up
to
some
games
respecting
that
property
,
don
’
t
you
see
?
"
"
Oh
!
"
says
Mr
.
Snagsby
,
but
not
appearing
to
see
quite
distinctly
.
"
Now
,
what
YOU
want
,
"
pursues
Bucket
,
again
tapping
Mr
.
Snagsby
on
the
breast
in
a
comfortable
and
soothing
manner
,
"
is
that
every
person
should
have
their
rights
according
to
justice
.
That
’
s
what
YOU
want
.
"
"
To
be
sure
,
"
returns
Mr
.
Snagsby
with
a
nod
.
"
On
account
of
which
,
and
at
the
same
time
to
oblige
a
—
do
you
call
it
,
in
your
business
,
customer
or
client
?
I
forget
how
my
uncle
used
to
call
it
.
"
"
Why
,
I
generally
say
customer
myself
,
"
replies
Mr
.
Snagsby
.
"
You
’
re
right
!
"
returns
Mr
.
Bucket
,
shaking
hands
with
him
quite
affectionately
.
"
—
On
account
of
which
,
and
at
the
same
time
to
oblige
a
real
good
customer
,
you
mean
to
go
down
with
me
,
in
confidence
,
to
Tom
-
all
-
Alone
’
s
and
to
keep
the
whole
thing
quiet
ever
afterwards
and
never
mention
it
to
any
one
.
That
’
s
about
your
intentions
,
if
I
understand
you
?
"
"
You
are
right
,
sir
.
You
are
right
,
"
says
Mr
.
Snagsby
.
"
Then
here
’
s
your
hat
,
"
returns
his
new
friend
,
quite
as
intimate
with
it
as
if
he
had
made
it
;
"
and
if
you
’
re
ready
,
I
am
.
"
They
leave
Mr
.
Tulkinghorn
,
without
a
ruffle
on
the
surface
of
his
unfathomable
depths
,
drinking
his
old
wine
,
and
go
down
into
the
streets
.
"
You
don
’
t
happen
to
know
a
very
good
sort
of
person
of
the
name
of
Gridley
,
do
you
?
"
says
Bucket
in
friendly
converse
as
they
descend
the
stairs
.
"
No
,
"
says
Mr
.
Snagsby
,
considering
,
"
I
don
’
t
know
anybody
of
that
name
.
Why
?
"
"
Nothing
particular
,
"
says
Bucket
;
"
only
having
allowed
his
temper
to
get
a
little
the
better
of
him
and
having
been
threatening
some
respectable
people
,
he
is
keeping
out
of
the
way
of
a
warrant
I
have
got
against
him
—
which
it
’
s
a
pity
that
a
man
of
sense
should
do
.
"
As
they
walk
along
,
Mr
.
Snagsby
observes
,
as
a
novelty
,
that
however
quick
their
pace
may
be
,
his
companion
still
seems
in
some
undefinable
manner
to
lurk
and
lounge
;
also
,
that
whenever
he
is
going
to
turn
to
the
right
or
left
,
he
pretends
to
have
a
fixed
purpose
in
his
mind
of
going
straight
ahead
,
and
wheels
off
,
sharply
,
at
the
very
last
moment
.
Now
and
then
,
when
they
pass
a
police
-
constable
on
his
beat
,
Mr
.
Snagsby
notices
that
both
the
constable
and
his
guide
fall
into
a
deep
abstraction
as
they
come
towards
each
other
,
and
appear
entirely
to
overlook
each
other
,
and
to
gaze
into
space
.
In
a
few
instances
,
Mr
.
Bucket
,
coming
behind
some
under
-
sized
young
man
with
a
shining
hat
on
,
and
his
sleek
hair
twisted
into
one
flat
curl
on
each
side
of
his
head
,
almost
without
glancing
at
him
touches
him
with
his
stick
,
upon
which
the
young
man
,
looking
round
,
instantly
evaporates
.
For
the
most
part
Mr
.
Bucket
notices
things
in
general
,
with
a
face
as
unchanging
as
the
great
mourning
ring
on
his
little
finger
or
the
brooch
,
composed
of
not
much
diamond
and
a
good
deal
of
setting
,
which
he
wears
in
his
shirt
.
When
they
come
at
last
to
Tom
-
all
-
Alone
’
s
,
Mr
.
Bucket
stops
for
a
moment
at
the
corner
and
takes
a
lighted
bull
’
s
-
eye
from
the
constable
on
duty
there
,
who
then
accompanies
him
with
his
own
particular
bull
’
s
-
eye
at
his
waist
.
Between
his
two
conductors
,
Mr
.
Snagsby
passes
along
the
middle
of
a
villainous
street
,
undrained
,
unventilated
,
deep
in
black
mud
and
corrupt
water
—
though
the
roads
are
dry
elsewhere
—
and
reeking
with
such
smells
and
sights
that
he
,
who
has
lived
in
London
all
his
life
,
can
scarce
believe
his
senses
.
Branching
from
this
street
and
its
heaps
of
ruins
are
other
streets
and
courts
so
infamous
that
Mr
.
Snagsby
sickens
in
body
and
mind
and
feels
as
if
he
were
going
every
moment
deeper
down
into
the
infernal
gulf
.
"
Draw
off
a
bit
here
,
Mr
.
Snagsby
,
"
says
Bucket
as
a
kind
of
shabby
palanquin
is
borne
towards
them
,
surrounded
by
a
noisy
crowd
.
"
Here
’
s
the
fever
coming
up
the
street
!
"
As
the
unseen
wretch
goes
by
,
the
crowd
,
leaving
that
object
of
attraction
,
hovers
round
the
three
visitors
like
a
dream
of
horrible
faces
and
fades
away
up
alleys
and
into
ruins
and
behind
walls
,
and
with
occasional
cries
and
shrill
whistles
of
warning
,
thenceforth
flits
about
them
until
they
leave
the
place
.
"
Are
those
the
fever
-
houses
,
Darby
?
"
Mr
.
Bucket
coolly
asks
as
he
turns
his
bull
’
s
-
eye
on
a
line
of
stinking
ruins
.
Darby
replies
that
"
all
them
are
,
"
and
further
that
in
all
,
for
months
and
months
,
the
people
"
have
been
down
by
dozens
"
and
have
been
carried
out
dead
and
dying
"
like
sheep
with
the
rot
.
"
Bucket
observing
to
Mr
.
Snagsby
as
they
go
on
again
that
he
looks
a
little
poorly
,
Mr
.
Snagsby
answers
that
he
feels
as
if
he
couldn
’
t
breathe
the
dreadful
air
.
There
is
inquiry
made
at
various
houses
for
a
boy
named
Jo
.
As
few
people
are
known
in
Tom
-
all
-
Alone
’
s
by
any
Christian
sign
,
there
is
much
reference
to
Mr
.
Snagsby
whether
he
means
Carrots
,
or
the
Colonel
,
or
Gallows
,
or
Young
Chisel
,
or
Terrier
Tip
,
or
Lanky
,
or
the
Brick
.
Mr
.
Snagsby
describes
over
and
over
again
.
There
are
conflicting
opinions
respecting
the
original
of
his
picture
.
Some
think
it
must
be
Carrots
,
some
say
the
Brick
.
The
Colonel
is
produced
,
but
is
not
at
all
near
the
thing
.
Whenever
Mr
.
Snagsby
and
his
conductors
are
stationary
,
the
crowd
flows
round
,
and
from
its
squalid
depths
obsequious
advice
heaves
up
to
Mr
.
Bucket
.
Whenever
they
move
,
and
the
angry
bull
’
s
-
eyes
glare
,
it
fades
away
and
flits
about
them
up
the
alleys
,
and
in
the
ruins
,
and
behind
the
walls
,
as
before
.
At
last
there
is
a
lair
found
out
where
Toughy
,
or
the
Tough
Subject
,
lays
him
down
at
night
;
and
it
is
thought
that
the
Tough
Subject
may
be
Jo
.
Comparison
of
notes
between
Mr
.
Snagsby
and
the
proprietress
of
the
house
—
a
drunken
face
tied
up
in
a
black
bundle
,
and
flaring
out
of
a
heap
of
rags
on
the
floor
of
a
dog
-
hutch
which
is
her
private
apartment
—
leads
to
the
establishment
of
this
conclusion
.
Toughy
has
gone
to
the
doctor
’
s
to
get
a
bottle
of
stuff
for
a
sick
woman
but
will
be
here
anon
.
"
And
who
have
we
got
here
to
-
night
?
"
says
Mr
.
Bucket
,
opening
another
door
and
glaring
in
with
his
bull
’
s
-
eye
.
"
Two
drunken
men
,
eh
?
And
two
women
?
The
men
are
sound
enough
,
"
turning
back
each
sleeper
’
s
arm
from
his
face
to
look
at
him
.
"
Are
these
your
good
men
,
my
dears
?
"
"
Yes
,
sir
,
"
returns
one
of
the
women
.
"
They
are
our
husbands
.
"
"
Brickmakers
,
eh
?
"
"
Yes
,
sir
.
"
"
What
are
you
doing
here
?
You
don
’
t
belong
to
London
.
"
"
No
,
sir
.
We
belong
to
Hertfordshire
.
"
"
Whereabouts
in
Hertfordshire
?
"
"
Saint
Albans
.
"
"
Come
up
on
the
tramp
?
"
"
We
walked
up
yesterday
.
There
’
s
no
work
down
with
us
at
present
,
but
we
have
done
no
good
by
coming
here
,
and
shall
do
none
,
I
expect
.
"
"
That
’
s
not
the
way
to
do
much
good
,
"
says
Mr
.
Bucket
,
turning
his
head
in
the
direction
of
the
unconscious
figures
on
the
ground
.
"
It
an
’
t
indeed
,
"
replies
the
woman
with
a
sigh
.
"
Jenny
and
me
knows
it
full
well
.
"
The
room
,
though
two
or
three
feet
higher
than
the
door
,
is
so
low
that
the
head
of
the
tallest
of
the
visitors
would
touch
the
blackened
ceiling
if
he
stood
upright
.
