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- Чарльз Диккенс
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So
subdued
I
was
by
those
tears
,
and
by
their
breaking
out
again
in
the
course
of
the
quiet
walk
,
that
when
I
was
on
the
coach
,
and
it
was
clear
of
the
town
,
I
deliberated
with
an
aching
heart
whether
I
would
not
get
down
when
we
changed
horses
and
walk
back
,
and
have
another
evening
at
home
,
and
a
better
parting
.
We
changed
,
and
I
had
not
made
up
my
mind
,
and
still
reflected
for
my
comfort
that
it
would
be
quite
practicable
to
get
down
and
walk
back
,
when
we
changed
again
.
And
while
I
was
occupied
with
these
deliberations
,
I
would
fancy
an
exact
resemblance
to
Joe
in
some
man
coming
along
the
road
towards
us
,
and
my
heart
would
beat
high
.
—
As
if
he
could
possibly
be
there
!
We
changed
again
,
and
yet
again
,
and
it
was
now
too
late
and
too
far
to
go
back
,
and
I
went
on
.
And
the
mists
had
all
solemnly
risen
now
,
and
the
world
lay
spread
before
me
.
This
is
the
end
of
the
first
stage
of
Pip
’
s
expectations
.
The
journey
from
our
town
to
the
metropolis
was
a
journey
of
about
five
hours
.
It
was
a
little
past
midday
when
the
four
-
horse
stage
-
coach
by
which
I
was
a
passenger
,
got
into
the
ravel
of
traffic
frayed
out
about
the
Cross
Keys
,
Wood
Street
,
Cheapside
,
London
.
We
Britons
had
at
that
time
particularly
settled
that
it
was
treasonable
to
doubt
our
having
and
our
being
the
best
of
everything
:
otherwise
,
while
I
was
scared
by
the
immensity
of
London
,
I
think
I
might
have
had
some
faint
doubts
whether
it
was
not
rather
ugly
,
crooked
,
narrow
,
and
dirty
.
Mr
.
Jaggers
had
duly
sent
me
his
address
;
it
was
,
Little
Britain
,
and
he
had
written
after
it
on
his
card
,
"
just
out
of
Smithfield
,
and
close
by
the
coach
-
office
.
"
Nevertheless
,
a
hackney
-
coachman
,
who
seemed
to
have
as
many
capes
to
his
greasy
great
-
coat
as
he
was
years
old
,
packed
me
up
in
his
coach
and
hemmed
me
in
with
a
folding
and
jingling
barrier
of
steps
,
as
if
he
were
going
to
take
me
fifty
miles
.
His
getting
on
his
box
,
which
I
remember
to
have
been
decorated
with
an
old
weather
-
stained
pea
-
green
hammercloth
moth
-
eaten
into
rags
,
was
quite
a
work
of
time
.
It
was
a
wonderful
equipage
,
with
six
great
coronets
outside
,
and
ragged
things
behind
for
I
don
’
t
know
how
many
footmen
to
hold
on
by
,
and
a
harrow
below
them
,
to
prevent
amateur
footmen
from
yielding
to
the
temptation
.
I
had
scarcely
had
time
to
enjoy
the
coach
and
to
think
how
like
a
straw
-
yard
it
was
,
and
yet
how
like
a
rag
-
shop
,
and
to
wonder
why
the
horses
’
nose
-
bags
were
kept
inside
,
when
I
observed
the
coachman
beginning
to
get
down
,
as
if
we
were
going
to
stop
presently
.
And
stop
we
presently
did
,
in
a
gloomy
street
,
at
certain
offices
with
an
open
door
,
whereon
was
painted
MR
.
JAGGERS
.
"
How
much
?
"
I
asked
the
coachman
.
The
coachman
answered
,
"
A
shilling
—
unless
you
wish
to
make
it
more
.
"
I
naturally
said
I
had
no
wish
to
make
it
more
.
