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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Стр. 54/247
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In
the
hardest
working
part
of
Coketown
;
in
the
innermost
fortifications
of
that
ugly
citadel
,
where
Nature
was
as
strongly
bricked
out
as
killing
airs
and
gases
were
bricked
in
;
at
the
heart
of
the
labyrinth
of
narrow
courts
upon
courts
,
and
close
streets
upon
streets
,
which
had
come
into
existence
piecemeal
,
every
piece
in
a
violent
hurry
for
some
one
man
's
purpose
,
and
the
whole
an
unnatural
family
,
shouldering
,
and
trampling
,
and
pressing
one
another
to
death
;
in
the
last
close
nook
of
this
great
exhausted
receiver
,
where
the
chimneys
,
for
want
of
air
to
make
a
draught
,
were
built
in
an
immense
variety
of
stunted
and
crooked
shapes
,
as
though
every
house
put
out
a
sign
of
the
kind
of
people
who
might
be
expected
to
be
born
in
it
;
among
the
multitude
of
Coketown
,
generically
called
'
the
Hands
,
'
--
a
race
who
would
have
found
more
favour
with
some
people
,
if
Providence
had
seen
fit
to
make
them
only
hands
,
or
,
like
the
lower
creatures
of
the
seashore
,
only
hands
and
stomachs
--
lived
a
certain
Stephen
Blackpool
,
forty
years
of
age
.
Stephen
looked
older
,
but
he
had
had
a
hard
life
.
It
is
said
that
every
life
has
its
roses
and
thorns
;
there
seemed
,
however
,
to
have
been
a
misadventure
or
mistake
in
Stephen
's
case
,
whereby
somebody
else
had
become
possessed
of
his
roses
,
and
he
had
become
possessed
of
the
same
somebody
else
's
thorns
in
addition
to
his
own
.
He
had
known
,
to
use
his
words
,
a
peck
of
trouble
.
He
was
usually
called
Old
Stephen
,
in
a
kind
of
rough
homage
to
the
fact
.
A
rather
stooping
man
,
with
a
knitted
brow
,
a
pondering
expression
of
face
,
and
a
hard-looking
head
sufficiently
capacious
,
on
which
his
iron-grey
hair
lay
long
and
thin
,
Old
Stephen
might
have
passed
for
a
particularly
intelligent
man
in
his
condition
.
Yet
he
was
not
.
He
took
no
place
among
those
remarkable
'
Hands
,
'
who
,
piecing
together
their
broken
intervals
of
leisure
through
many
years
,
had
mastered
difficult
sciences
,
and
acquired
a
knowledge
of
most
unlikely
things
.
He
held
no
station
among
the
Hands
who
could
make
speeches
and
carry
on
debates
.
Thousands
of
his
compeers
could
talk
much
better
than
he
,
at
any
time
.
He
was
a
good
power-loom
weaver
,
and
a
man
of
perfect
integrity
.
What
more
he
was
,
or
what
else
he
had
in
him
,
if
anything
,
let
him
show
for
himself
.
The
lights
in
the
great
factories
,
which
looked
,
when
they
were
illuminated
,
like
Fairy
palaces
--
or
the
travellers
by
express-train
said
so
--
were
all
extinguished
;
and
the
bells
had
rung
for
knocking
off
for
the
night
,
and
had
ceased
again
;
and
the
Hands
,
men
and
women
,
boy
and
girl
,
were
clattering
home
.
Old
Stephen
was
standing
in
the
street
,
with
the
old
sensation
upon
him
which
the
stoppage
of
the
machinery
always
produced
--
the
sensation
of
its
having
worked
and
stopped
in
his
own
head
.
'
Yet
I
do
n't
see
Rachael
,
still
!
'
said
he
.
It
was
a
wet
night
,
and
many
groups
of
young
women
passed
him
,
with
their
shawls
drawn
over
their
bare
heads
and
held
close
under
their
chins
to
keep
the
rain
out
.
He
knew
Rachael
well
,
for
a
glance
at
any
one
of
these
groups
was
sufficient
to
show
him
that
she
was
not
there
.
At
last
,
there
were
no
more
to
come
;
and
then
he
turned
away
,
saying
in
a
tone
of
disappointment
,
'
Why
,
then
,
ha
'
missed
her
!
'
But
,
he
had
not
gone
the
length
of
three
streets
,
when
he
saw
another
of
the
shawled
figures
in
advance
of
him
,
at
which
he
looked
so
keenly
that
perhaps
its
mere
shadow
indistinctly
reflected
on
the
wet
pavement
--
if
he
could
have
seen
it
without
the
figure
itself
moving
along
from
lamp
to
lamp
,
brightening
and
fading
as
it
went
--
would
have
been
enough
to
tell
him
who
was
there
.
Making
his
pace
at
once
much
quicker
and
much
softer
,
he
darted
on
until
he
was
very
near
this
figure
,
then
fell
into
his
former
walk
,
and
called
'
Rachael
!
'
She
turned
,
being
then
in
the
brightness
of
a
lamp
;
and
raising
her
hood
a
little
,
showed
a
quiet
oval
face
,
dark
and
rather
delicate
,
irradiated
by
a
pair
of
very
gentle
eyes
,
and
further
set
off
by
the
perfect
order
of
her
shining
black
hair
.
It
was
not
a
face
in
its
first
bloom
;
she
was
a
woman
five
and
thirty
years
of
age
.
'
Ah
,
lad
!
'
Tis
thou
?
'
When
she
had
said
this
,
with
a
smile
which
would
have
been
quite
expressed
,
though
nothing
of
her
had
been
seen
but
her
pleasant
eyes
,
she
replaced
her
hood
again
,
and
they
went
on
together
.
