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- Чарльз Диккенс
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'
Always
my
pet
;
ai
n't
you
,
Louisa
?
'
said
Mr.
Bounderby
.
'
Good-bye
,
Louisa
!
'
He
went
his
way
,
but
she
stood
on
the
same
spot
,
rubbing
the
cheek
he
had
kissed
,
with
her
handkerchief
,
until
it
was
burning
red
.
She
was
still
doing
this
,
five
minutes
afterwards
.
'
What
are
you
about
,
Loo
?
'
her
brother
sulkily
remonstrated
.
'
You
'll
rub
a
hole
in
your
face
.
'
'
You
may
cut
the
piece
out
with
your
penknife
if
you
like
,
Tom
.
I
would
n't
cry
!
'
Coketown
,
to
which
Messrs.
Bounderby
and
Gradgrind
now
walked
,
was
a
triumph
of
fact
;
it
had
no
greater
taint
of
fancy
in
it
than
Mrs.
Gradgrind
herself
.
Let
us
strike
the
key-note
,
Coketown
,
before
pursuing
our
tune
.
It
was
a
town
of
red
brick
,
or
of
brick
that
would
have
been
red
if
the
smoke
and
ashes
had
allowed
it
;
but
as
matters
stood
,
it
was
a
town
of
unnatural
red
and
black
like
the
painted
face
of
a
savage
.
It
was
a
town
of
machinery
and
tall
chimneys
,
out
of
which
interminable
serpents
of
smoke
trailed
themselves
for
ever
and
ever
,
and
never
got
uncoiled
.
It
had
a
black
canal
in
it
,
and
a
river
that
ran
purple
with
ill-smelling
dye
,
and
vast
piles
of
building
full
of
windows
where
there
was
a
rattling
and
a
trembling
all
day
long
,
and
where
the
piston
of
the
steam-engine
worked
monotonously
up
and
down
,
like
the
head
of
an
elephant
in
a
state
of
melancholy
madness
.
It
contained
several
large
streets
all
very
like
one
another
,
and
many
small
streets
still
more
like
one
another
,
inhabited
by
people
equally
like
one
another
,
who
all
went
in
and
out
at
the
same
hours
,
with
the
same
sound
upon
the
same
pavements
,
to
do
the
same
work
,
and
to
whom
every
day
was
the
same
as
yesterday
and
to-morrow
,
and
every
year
the
counterpart
of
the
last
and
the
next
.
These
attributes
of
Coketown
were
in
the
main
inseparable
from
the
work
by
which
it
was
sustained
;
against
them
were
to
be
set
off
,
comforts
of
life
which
found
their
way
all
over
the
world
,
and
elegancies
of
life
which
made
,
we
will
not
ask
how
much
of
the
fine
lady
,
who
could
scarcely
bear
to
hear
the
place
mentioned
.
The
rest
of
its
features
were
voluntary
,
and
they
were
these
.
You
saw
nothing
in
Coketown
but
what
was
severely
workful
.
If
the
members
of
a
religious
persuasion
built
a
chapel
there
--
as
the
members
of
eighteen
religious
persuasions
had
done
--
they
made
it
a
pious
warehouse
of
red
brick
,
with
sometimes
(
but
this
is
only
in
highly
ornamental
examples
)
a
bell
in
a
birdcage
on
the
top
of
it
.
The
solitary
exception
was
the
New
Church
;
a
stuccoed
edifice
with
a
square
steeple
over
the
door
,
terminating
in
four
short
pinnacles
like
florid
wooden
legs
.
All
the
public
inscriptions
in
the
town
were
painted
alike
,
in
severe
characters
of
black
and
white
.
The
jail
might
have
been
the
infirmary
,
the
infirmary
might
have
been
the
jail
,
the
town-hall
might
have
been
either
,
or
both
,
or
anything
else
,
for
anything
that
appeared
to
the
contrary
in
the
graces
of
their
construction
.
Fact
,
fact
,
fact
,
everywhere
in
the
material
aspect
of
the
town
;
fact
,
fact
,
fact
,
everywhere
in
the
immaterial
.
The
M'Choakumchild
school
was
all
fact
,
and
the
school
of
design
was
all
fact
,
and
the
relations
between
master
and
man
were
all
fact
,
and
everything
was
fact
between
the
lying-in
hospital
and
the
cemetery
,
and
what
you
could
n't
state
in
figures
,
or
show
to
be
purchaseable
in
the
cheapest
market
and
saleable
in
the
dearest
,
was
not
,
and
never
should
be
,
world
without
end
,
Amen
.
A
town
so
sacred
to
fact
,
and
so
triumphant
in
its
assertion
,
of
course
got
on
well
?
Why
no
,
not
quite
well
.
No
?
Dear
me
!
