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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Крошка Доррит
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- Стр. 224/761
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Little
Dorrit
sat
down
in
a
golden
chair
,
made
quite
giddy
by
these
rapid
interruptions
.
Her
sister
and
the
rest
were
a
long
time
gone
;
and
during
their
absence
a
voice
(
it
appeared
to
be
that
of
the
gentleman
with
the
black
hair
)
was
continually
calling
out
through
the
music
,
‘
One
,
two
,
three
,
four
,
five
,
six
—
go
!
One
,
two
,
three
,
four
,
five
,
six
—
go
!
Steady
,
darlings
!
One
,
two
,
three
,
four
,
five
,
six
—
go
!
’
Ultimately
the
voice
stopped
,
and
they
all
came
back
again
,
more
or
less
out
of
breath
,
folding
themselves
in
their
shawls
,
and
making
ready
for
the
streets
.
‘
Stop
a
moment
,
Amy
,
and
let
them
get
away
before
us
,
’
whispered
Fanny
.
They
were
soon
left
alone
;
nothing
more
important
happening
,
in
the
meantime
,
than
the
boy
looking
round
his
old
beam
,
and
saying
,
‘
Everybody
at
eleven
to
-
morrow
,
ladies
!
’
and
the
gentleman
with
the
black
hair
looking
round
his
old
beam
,
and
saying
,
‘
Everybody
at
eleven
to
-
morrow
,
darlings
!
’
each
in
his
own
accustomed
manner
.
When
they
were
alone
,
something
was
rolled
up
or
by
other
means
got
out
of
the
way
,
and
there
was
a
great
empty
well
before
them
,
looking
down
into
the
depths
of
which
Fanny
said
,
‘
Now
,
uncle
!
’
Little
Dorrit
,
as
her
eyes
became
used
to
the
darkness
,
faintly
made
him
out
at
the
bottom
of
the
well
,
in
an
obscure
corner
by
himself
,
with
his
instrument
in
its
ragged
case
under
his
arm
.
The
old
man
looked
as
if
the
remote
high
gallery
windows
,
with
their
little
strip
of
sky
,
might
have
been
the
point
of
his
better
fortunes
,
from
which
he
had
descended
,
until
he
had
gradually
sunk
down
below
there
to
the
bottom
.
He
had
been
in
that
place
six
nights
a
week
for
many
years
,
but
had
never
been
observed
to
raise
his
eyes
above
his
music
-
book
,
and
was
confidently
believed
to
have
never
seen
a
play
.
There
were
legends
in
the
place
that
he
did
not
so
much
as
know
the
popular
heroes
and
heroines
by
sight
,
and
that
the
low
comedian
had
‘
mugged
’
at
him
in
his
richest
manner
fifty
nights
for
a
wager
,
and
he
had
shown
no
trace
of
consciousness
.
The
carpenters
had
a
joke
to
the
effect
that
he
was
dead
without
being
aware
of
it
;
and
the
frequenters
of
the
pit
supposed
him
to
pass
his
whole
life
,
night
and
day
,
and
Sunday
and
all
,
in
the
orchestra
.
They
had
tried
him
a
few
times
with
pinches
of
snuff
offered
over
the
rails
,
and
he
had
always
responded
to
this
attention
with
a
momentary
waking
up
of
manner
that
had
the
pale
phantom
of
a
gentleman
in
it
:
beyond
this
he
never
,
on
any
occasion
,
had
any
other
part
in
what
was
going
on
than
the
part
written
out
for
the
clarionet
;
in
private
life
,
where
there
was
no
part
for
the
clarionet
,
he
had
no
part
at
all
.
Some
said
he
was
poor
,
some
said
he
was
a
wealthy
miser
;
but
he
said
nothing
,
never
lifted
up
his
bowed
head
,
never
varied
his
shuffling
gait
by
getting
his
springless
foot
from
the
ground
.
Though
expecting
now
to
be
summoned
by
his
niece
,
he
did
not
hear
her
until
she
had
spoken
to
him
three
or
four
times
;
nor
was
he
at
all
surprised
by
the
presence
of
two
nieces
instead
of
one
,
but
merely
said
in
his
tremulous
voice
,
‘
I
am
coming
,
I
am
coming
!
’
and
crept
forth
by
some
underground
way
which
emitted
a
cellarous
smell
.
‘
And
so
,
Amy
,
’
said
her
sister
,
when
the
three
together
passed
out
at
the
door
that
had
such
a
shame
-
faced
consciousness
of
being
different
from
other
doors
:
the
uncle
instinctively
taking
Amy
’
s
arm
as
the
arm
to
be
relied
on
:
‘
so
,
Amy
,
you
are
curious
about
me
?
’
She
was
pretty
,
and
conscious
,
and
rather
flaunting
;
and
the
condescension
with
which
she
put
aside
the
superiority
of
her
charms
,
and
of
her
worldly
experience
,
and
addressed
her
sister
on
almost
equal
terms
,
had
a
vast
deal
of
the
family
in
it
.
‘
I
am
interested
,
Fanny
,
and
concerned
in
anything
that
concerns
you
.
’
‘
So
you
are
,
so
you
are
,
and
you
are
the
best
of
Amys
.
If
I
am
ever
a
little
provoking
,
I
am
sure
you
’
ll
consider
what
a
thing
it
is
to
occupy
my
position
and
feel
a
consciousness
of
being
superior
to
it
.
I
shouldn
’
t
care
,
’
said
the
Daughter
of
the
Father
of
the
Marshalsea
,
‘
if
the
others
were
not
so
common
.
None
of
them
have
come
down
in
the
world
as
we
have
.
They
are
all
on
their
own
level
.
Common
.
’
Little
Dorrit
mildly
looked
at
the
speaker
,
but
did
not
interrupt
her
.
Fanny
took
out
her
handkerchief
,
and
rather
angrily
wiped
her
eyes
.
‘
I
was
not
born
where
you
were
,
you
know
,
Amy
,
and
perhaps
that
makes
a
difference
.
My
dear
child
,
when
we
get
rid
of
Uncle
,
you
shall
know
all
about
it
.
We
’
ll
drop
him
at
the
cook
’
s
shop
where
he
is
going
to
dine
.
’
