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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Крошка Доррит
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- Стр. 145/761
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Calling
these
things
to
mind
,
and
ranging
Mr
Pancks
in
a
row
with
them
,
Arthur
Clennam
leaned
this
day
to
the
opinion
,
without
quite
deciding
on
it
,
that
the
last
of
the
Patriarchs
was
the
drifting
Booby
aforesaid
,
with
the
one
idea
of
keeping
the
bald
part
of
his
head
highly
polished
:
and
that
,
much
as
an
unwieldy
ship
in
the
Thames
river
may
sometimes
be
seen
heavily
driving
with
the
tide
,
broadside
on
,
stern
first
,
in
its
own
way
and
in
the
way
of
everything
else
,
though
making
a
great
show
of
navigation
,
when
all
of
a
sudden
,
a
little
coaly
steam
-
tug
will
bear
down
upon
it
,
take
it
in
tow
,
and
bustle
off
with
it
;
similarly
the
cumbrous
Patriarch
had
been
taken
in
tow
by
the
snorting
Pancks
,
and
was
now
following
in
the
wake
of
that
dingy
little
craft
.
The
return
of
Mr
Casby
with
his
daughter
Flora
,
put
an
end
to
these
meditations
.
Clennam
’
s
eyes
no
sooner
fell
upon
the
subject
of
his
old
passion
than
it
shivered
and
broke
to
pieces
.
Most
men
will
be
found
sufficiently
true
to
themselves
to
be
true
to
an
old
idea
.
It
is
no
proof
of
an
inconstant
mind
,
but
exactly
the
opposite
,
when
the
idea
will
not
bear
close
comparison
with
the
reality
,
and
the
contrast
is
a
fatal
shock
to
it
.
Such
was
Clennam
’
s
case
.
In
his
youth
he
had
ardently
loved
this
woman
,
and
had
heaped
upon
her
all
the
locked
-
up
wealth
of
his
affection
and
imagination
.
That
wealth
had
been
,
in
his
desert
home
,
like
Robinson
Crusoe
’
s
money
;
exchangeable
with
no
one
,
lying
idle
in
the
dark
to
rust
,
until
he
poured
it
out
for
her
.
Ever
since
that
memorable
time
,
though
he
had
,
until
the
night
of
his
arrival
,
as
completely
dismissed
her
from
any
association
with
his
Present
or
Future
as
if
she
had
been
dead
(
which
she
might
easily
have
been
for
anything
he
knew
)
,
he
had
kept
the
old
fancy
of
the
Past
unchanged
,
in
its
old
sacred
place
.
And
now
,
after
all
,
the
last
of
the
Patriarchs
coolly
walked
into
the
parlour
,
saying
in
effect
,
‘
Be
good
enough
to
throw
it
down
and
dance
upon
it
.
This
is
Flora
.
’
Flora
,
always
tall
,
had
grown
to
be
very
broad
too
,
and
short
of
breath
;
but
that
was
not
much
.
Flora
,
whom
he
had
left
a
lily
,
had
become
a
peony
;
but
that
was
not
much
.
Flora
,
who
had
seemed
enchanting
in
all
she
said
and
thought
,
was
diffuse
and
silly
.
That
was
much
.
Flora
,
who
had
been
spoiled
and
artless
long
ago
,
was
determined
to
be
spoiled
and
artless
now
.
That
was
a
fatal
blow
.
This
is
Flora
!
‘
I
am
sure
,
’
giggled
Flora
,
tossing
her
head
with
a
caricature
of
her
girlish
manner
,
such
as
a
mummer
might
have
presented
at
her
own
funeral
,
if
she
had
lived
and
died
in
classical
antiquity
,
‘
I
am
ashamed
to
see
Mr
Clennam
,
I
am
a
mere
fright
,
I
know
he
’
ll
find
me
fearfully
changed
,
I
am
actually
an
old
woman
,
it
’
s
shocking
to
be
found
out
,
it
’
s
really
shocking
!
’
He
assured
her
that
she
was
just
what
he
had
expected
and
that
time
had
not
stood
still
with
himself
.
‘
Oh
!
But
with
a
gentleman
it
’
s
so
different
and
really
you
look
so
amazingly
well
that
you
have
no
right
to
say
anything
of
the
kind
,
while
,
as
to
me
,
you
know
—
oh
!
’
cried
Flora
with
a
little
scream
,
‘
I
am
dreadful
!
’
The
Patriarch
,
apparently
not
yet
understanding
his
own
part
in
the
drama
under
representation
,
glowed
with
vacant
serenity
.
