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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Крошка Доррит
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- Стр. 158/761
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‘
It
’
s
a
serious
injury
,
I
suppose
?
’
said
Clennam
.
‘
Ye
-
es
,
’
replied
the
surgeon
,
with
the
thoughtful
pleasure
of
an
artist
contemplating
the
work
upon
his
easel
.
‘
Yes
,
it
’
s
enough
.
There
’
s
a
compound
fracture
above
the
knee
,
and
a
dislocation
below
.
They
are
both
of
a
beautiful
kind
.
’
He
gave
the
patient
a
friendly
clap
on
the
shoulder
again
,
as
if
he
really
felt
that
he
was
a
very
good
fellow
indeed
,
and
worthy
of
all
commendation
for
having
broken
his
leg
in
a
manner
interesting
to
science
.
‘
He
speaks
French
?
’
said
the
surgeon
.
‘
Oh
yes
,
he
speaks
French
.
’
‘
He
’
ll
be
at
no
loss
here
,
then
.
—
You
have
only
to
bear
a
little
pain
like
a
brave
fellow
,
my
friend
,
and
to
be
thankful
that
all
goes
as
well
as
it
does
,
’
he
added
,
in
that
tongue
,
‘
and
you
’
ll
walk
again
to
a
marvel
.
Now
,
let
us
see
whether
there
’
s
anything
else
the
matter
,
and
how
our
ribs
are
?
’
There
was
nothing
else
the
matter
,
and
our
ribs
were
sound
.
Clennam
remained
until
everything
possible
to
be
done
had
been
skilfully
and
promptly
done
—
the
poor
belated
wanderer
in
a
strange
land
movingly
besought
that
favour
of
him
—
and
lingered
by
the
bed
to
which
he
was
in
due
time
removed
,
until
he
had
fallen
into
a
doze
.
Even
then
he
wrote
a
few
words
for
him
on
his
card
,
with
a
promise
to
return
to
-
morrow
,
and
left
it
to
be
given
to
him
when
he
should
awake
.
All
these
proceedings
occupied
so
long
that
it
struck
eleven
o
’
clock
at
night
as
he
came
out
at
the
Hospital
Gate
.
He
had
hired
a
lodging
for
the
present
in
Covent
Garden
,
and
he
took
the
nearest
way
to
that
quarter
,
by
Snow
Hill
and
Holborn
.
Left
to
himself
again
,
after
the
solicitude
and
compassion
of
his
last
adventure
,
he
was
naturally
in
a
thoughtful
mood
.
As
naturally
,
he
could
not
walk
on
thinking
for
ten
minutes
without
recalling
Flora
.
She
necessarily
recalled
to
him
his
life
,
with
all
its
misdirection
and
little
happiness
.
When
he
got
to
his
lodging
,
he
sat
down
before
the
dying
fire
,
as
he
had
stood
at
the
window
of
his
old
room
looking
out
upon
the
blackened
forest
of
chimneys
,
and
turned
his
gaze
back
upon
the
gloomy
vista
by
which
he
had
come
to
that
stage
in
his
existence
.
So
long
,
so
bare
,
so
blank
.
