-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Чарльз Диккенс
-
- Крошка Доррит
-
- Стр. 342/761
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Mr
Flintwinch
gravely
pledged
him
,
and
drank
all
the
wine
he
could
get
,
and
said
nothing
.
As
often
as
Mr
Blandois
clinked
glasses
(
which
was
at
every
replenishment
)
,
Mr
Flintwinch
stolidly
did
his
part
of
the
clinking
,
and
would
have
stolidly
done
his
companion
’
s
part
of
the
wine
as
well
as
his
own
:
being
,
except
in
the
article
of
palate
,
a
mere
cask
.
In
short
,
Mr
Blandois
found
that
to
pour
port
wine
into
the
reticent
Flintwinch
was
,
not
to
open
him
but
to
shut
him
up
.
Moreover
,
he
had
the
appearance
of
a
perfect
ability
to
go
on
all
night
;
or
,
if
occasion
were
,
all
next
day
and
all
next
night
;
whereas
Mr
Blandois
soon
grew
indistinctly
conscious
of
swaggering
too
fiercely
and
boastfully
.
He
therefore
terminated
the
entertainment
at
the
end
of
the
third
bottle
.
‘
You
will
draw
upon
us
to
-
morrow
,
sir
,
’
said
Mr
Flintwinch
,
with
a
business
-
like
face
at
parting
.
‘
My
Cabbage
,
’
returned
the
other
,
taking
him
by
the
collar
with
both
hands
,
‘
I
’
ll
draw
upon
you
;
have
no
fear
.
Adieu
,
my
Flintwinch
.
Receive
at
parting
;
’
here
he
gave
him
a
southern
embrace
,
and
kissed
him
soundly
on
both
cheeks
;
‘
the
word
of
a
gentleman
!
By
a
thousand
Thunders
,
you
shall
see
me
again
!
’
He
did
not
present
himself
next
day
,
though
the
letter
of
advice
came
duly
to
hand
.
Inquiring
after
him
at
night
,
Mr
Flintwinch
found
,
with
surprise
,
that
he
had
paid
his
bill
and
gone
back
to
the
Continent
by
way
of
Calais
.
Nevertheless
,
Jeremiah
scraped
out
of
his
cogitating
face
a
lively
conviction
that
Mr
Blandois
would
keep
his
word
on
this
occasion
,
and
would
be
seen
again
.
Anybody
may
pass
,
any
day
,
in
the
thronged
thoroughfares
of
the
metropolis
,
some
meagre
,
wrinkled
,
yellow
old
man
(
who
might
be
supposed
to
have
dropped
from
the
stars
,
if
there
were
any
star
in
the
Heavens
dull
enough
to
be
suspected
of
casting
off
so
feeble
a
spark
)
,
creeping
along
with
a
scared
air
,
as
though
bewildered
and
a
little
frightened
by
the
noise
and
bustle
.
This
old
man
is
always
a
little
old
man
.
If
he
were
ever
a
big
old
man
,
he
has
shrunk
into
a
little
old
man
;
if
he
were
always
a
little
old
man
,
he
has
dwindled
into
a
less
old
man
.
His
coat
is
a
colour
,
and
cut
,
that
never
was
the
mode
anywhere
,
at
any
period
.
Clearly
,
it
was
not
made
for
him
,
or
for
any
individual
mortal
.
Some
wholesale
contractor
measured
Fate
for
five
thousand
coats
of
such
quality
,
and
Fate
has
lent
this
old
coat
to
this
old
man
,
as
one
of
a
long
unfinished
line
of
many
old
men
.
It
has
always
large
dull
metal
buttons
,
similar
to
no
other
buttons
.
This
old
man
wears
a
hat
,
a
thumbed
and
napless
and
yet
an
obdurate
hat
,
which
has
never
adapted
itself
to
the
shape
of
his
poor
head
.
His
coarse
shirt
and
his
coarse
neckcloth
have
no
more
individuality
than
his
coat
and
hat
;
they
have
the
same
character
of
not
being
his
—
of
not
being
anybody
’
s
.
Yet
this
old
man
wears
these
clothes
with
a
certain
unaccustomed
air
of
being
dressed
and
elaborated
for
the
public
ways
;
as
though
he
passed
the
greater
part
of
his
time
in
a
nightcap
and
gown
.
And
so
,
like
the
country
mouse
in
the
second
year
of
a
famine
,
come
to
see
the
town
mouse
,
and
timidly
threading
his
way
to
the
town
-
mouse
’
s
lodging
through
a
city
of
cats
,
this
old
man
passes
in
the
streets
.
Sometimes
,
on
holidays
towards
evening
,
he
will
be
seen
to
walk
with
a
slightly
increased
infirmity
,
and
his
old
eyes
will
glimmer
with
a
moist
and
marshy
light
.
Then
the
little
old
man
is
drunk
.
A
very
small
measure
will
overset
him
;
he
may
be
bowled
off
his
unsteady
legs
with
a
half
-
pint
pot
.
Some
pitying
acquaintance
—
chance
acquaintance
very
often
—
has
warmed
up
his
weakness
with
a
treat
of
beer
,
and
the
consequence
will
be
the
lapse
of
a
longer
time
than
usual
before
he
shall
pass
again
.
For
the
little
old
man
is
going
home
to
the
Workhouse
;
and
on
his
good
behaviour
they
do
not
let
him
out
often
(
though
methinks
they
might
,
considering
the
few
years
he
has
before
him
to
go
out
in
,
under
the
sun
)
;
and
on
his
bad
behaviour
they
shut
him
up
closer
than
ever
in
a
grove
of
two
score
and
nineteen
more
old
men
,
every
one
of
whom
smells
of
all
the
others
.
Mrs
Plornish
’
s
father
,
—
a
poor
little
reedy
piping
old
gentleman
,
like
a
worn
-
out
bird
;
who
had
been
in
what
he
called
the
music
-
binding
business
,
and
met
with
great
misfortunes
,
and
who
had
seldom
been
able
to
make
his
way
,
or
to
see
it
or
to
pay
it
,
or
to
do
anything
at
all
with
it
but
find
it
no
thoroughfare
,
—
had
retired
of
his
own
accord
to
the
Workhouse
which
was
appointed
by
law
to
be
the
Good
Samaritan
of
his
district
(
without
the
twopence
,
which
was
bad
political
economy
)
,
on
the
settlement
of
that
execution
which
had
carried
Mr
Plornish
to
the
Marshalsea
College
.
Previous
to
his
son
-
in
-
law
’
s
difficulties
coming
to
that
head
,
Old
Nandy
(
he
was
always
so
called
in
his
legal
Retreat
,
but
he
was
Old
Mr
Nandy
among
the
Bleeding
Hearts
)
had
sat
in
a
corner
of
the
Plornish
fireside
,
and
taken
his
bite
and
sup
out
of
the
Plornish
cupboard
.
He
still
hoped
to
resume
that
domestic
position
when
Fortune
should
smile
upon
his
son
-
in
-
law
;
in
the
meantime
,
while
she
preserved
an
immovable
countenance
,
he
was
,
and
resolved
to
remain
,
one
of
these
little
old
men
in
a
grove
of
little
old
men
with
a
community
of
flavour
.
But
no
poverty
in
him
,
and
no
coat
on
him
that
never
was
the
mode
,
and
no
Old
Men
’
s
Ward
for
his
dwelling
-
place
,
could
quench
his
daughter
’
s
admiration
.
Mrs
Plornish
was
as
proud
of
her
father
’
s
talents
as
she
could
possibly
have
been
if
they
had
made
him
Lord
Chancellor
.
She
had
as
firm
a
belief
in
the
sweetness
and
propriety
of
his
manners
as
she
could
possibly
have
had
if
he
had
been
Lord
Chamberlain
.
