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- Чарльз Диккенс
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No
more
of
yesterday
’
s
howling
over
yonder
to
-
day
,
Sir
;
is
there
?
’
‘
I
have
heard
none
.
’
‘
Then
you
may
be
sure
there
is
none
.
When
these
people
howl
,
they
howl
to
be
heard
.
’
‘
Most
people
do
,
I
suppose
.
’
‘
Ah
!
but
these
people
are
always
howling
.
Never
happy
otherwise
.
’
‘
Do
you
mean
the
Marseilles
people
?
’
‘
I
mean
the
French
people
.
They
’
re
always
at
it
.
As
to
Marseilles
,
we
know
what
Marseilles
is
.
It
sent
the
most
insurrectionary
tune
into
the
world
that
was
ever
composed
.
It
couldn
’
t
exist
without
allonging
and
marshonging
to
something
or
other
—
victory
or
death
,
or
blazes
,
or
something
.
’
The
speaker
,
with
a
whimsical
good
humour
upon
him
all
the
time
,
looked
over
the
parapet
-
wall
with
the
greatest
disparagement
of
Marseilles
;
and
taking
up
a
determined
position
by
putting
his
hands
in
his
pockets
and
rattling
his
money
at
it
,
apostrophised
it
with
a
short
laugh
.
‘
Allong
and
marshong
,
indeed
.
It
would
be
more
creditable
to
you
,
I
think
,
to
let
other
people
allong
and
marshong
about
their
lawful
business
,
instead
of
shutting
‘
em
up
in
quarantine
!
’
‘
Tiresome
enough
,
’
said
the
other
.
‘
But
we
shall
be
out
to
-
day
.
’
