-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Чарльз Диккенс
-
- Крошка Доррит
-
- Стр. 343/761
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
The
poor
little
old
man
knew
some
pale
and
vapid
little
songs
,
long
out
of
date
,
about
Chloe
,
and
Phyllis
,
and
Strephon
being
wounded
by
the
son
of
Venus
;
and
for
Mrs
Plornish
there
was
no
such
music
at
the
Opera
as
the
small
internal
flutterings
and
chirpings
wherein
he
would
discharge
himself
of
these
ditties
,
like
a
weak
,
little
,
broken
barrel
-
organ
,
ground
by
a
baby
.
On
his
‘
days
out
,
’
those
flecks
of
light
in
his
flat
vista
of
pollard
old
men
,
’
it
was
at
once
Mrs
Plornish
’
s
delight
and
sorrow
,
when
he
was
strong
with
meat
,
and
had
taken
his
full
halfpenny
-
worth
of
porter
,
to
say
,
‘
Sing
us
a
song
,
Father
.
’
Then
he
would
give
them
Chloe
,
and
if
he
were
in
pretty
good
spirits
,
Phyllis
also
—
Strephon
he
had
hardly
been
up
to
since
he
went
into
retirement
—
and
then
would
Mrs
Plornish
declare
she
did
believe
there
never
was
such
a
singer
as
Father
,
and
wipe
her
eyes
.
If
he
had
come
from
Court
on
these
occasions
,
nay
,
if
he
had
been
the
noble
Refrigerator
come
home
triumphantly
from
a
foreign
court
to
be
presented
and
promoted
on
his
last
tremendous
failure
,
Mrs
Plornish
could
not
have
handed
him
with
greater
elevation
about
Bleeding
Heart
Yard
.
‘
Here
’
s
Father
,
’
she
would
say
,
presenting
him
to
a
neighbour
.
‘
Father
will
soon
be
home
with
us
for
good
,
now
.
Ain
’
t
Father
looking
well
?
Father
’
s
a
sweeter
singer
than
ever
;
you
’
d
never
have
forgotten
it
,
if
you
’
d
aheard
him
just
now
.
’
As
to
Mr
Plornish
,
he
had
married
these
articles
of
belief
in
marrying
Mr
Nandy
’
s
daughter
,
and
only
wondered
how
it
was
that
so
gifted
an
old
gentleman
had
not
made
a
fortune
.
This
he
attributed
,
after
much
reflection
,
to
his
musical
genius
not
having
been
scientifically
developed
in
his
youth
.
‘
For
why
,
’
argued
Mr
Plornish
,
‘
why
go
a
-
binding
music
when
you
’
ve
got
it
in
yourself
?
That
’
s
where
it
is
,
I
consider
.
’
Old
Nandy
had
a
patron
:
one
patron
.
He
had
a
patron
who
in
a
certain
sumptuous
way
—
an
apologetic
way
,
as
if
he
constantly
took
an
admiring
audience
to
witness
that
he
really
could
not
help
being
more
free
with
this
old
fellow
than
they
might
have
expected
,
on
account
of
his
simplicity
and
poverty
—
was
mightily
good
to
him
.
Old
Nandy
had
been
several
times
to
the
Marshalsea
College
,
communicating
with
his
son
-
in
-
law
during
his
short
durance
there
;
and
had
happily
acquired
to
himself
,
and
had
by
degrees
and
in
course
of
time
much
improved
,
the
patronage
of
the
Father
of
that
national
institution
.
Mr
Dorrit
was
in
the
habit
of
receiving
this
old
man
as
if
the
old
man
held
of
him
in
vassalage
under
some
feudal
tenure
.
He
made
little
treats
and
teas
for
him
,
as
if
he
came
in
with
his
homage
from
some
outlying
district
where
the
tenantry
were
in
a
primitive
state
.
It
seemed
as
if
there
were
moments
when
he
could
by
no
means
have
sworn
but
that
the
old
man
was
an
ancient
retainer
of
his
,
who
had
been
meritoriously
faithful
.
When
he
mentioned
him
,
he
spoke
of
him
casually
as
his
old
pensioner
.
He
had
a
wonderful
satisfaction
in
seeing
him
,
and
in
commenting
on
his
decayed
condition
after
he
was
gone
.
It
appeared
to
him
amazing
that
he
could
hold
up
his
head
at
all
,
poor
creature
.
‘
In
the
Workhouse
,
sir
,
the
Union
;
no
privacy
,
no
visitors
,
no
station
,
no
respect
,
no
speciality
.
Most
deplorable
!
’
It
was
Old
Nandy
’
s
birthday
,
and
they
let
him
out
.
He
said
nothing
about
its
being
his
birthday
,
or
they
might
have
kept
him
in
;
for
such
old
men
should
not
be
born
.
He
passed
along
the
streets
as
usual
to
Bleeding
Heart
Yard
,
and
had
his
dinner
with
his
daughter
and
son
-
in
-
law
,
and
gave
them
Phyllis
.
He
had
hardly
concluded
,
when
Little
Dorrit
looked
in
to
see
how
they
all
were
.
‘
Miss
Dorrit
,
’
said
Mrs
Plornish
,
‘
here
’
s
Father
!
Ain
’
t
he
looking
nice
?
And
such
voice
he
’
s
in
!
’
Little
Dorrit
gave
him
her
hand
,
and
smilingly
said
she
had
not
seen
him
this
long
time
.
‘
No
,
they
’
re
rather
hard
on
poor
Father
,
’
said
Mrs
Plornish
with
a
lengthening
face
,
‘
and
don
’
t
let
him
have
half
as
much
change
and
fresh
air
as
would
benefit
him
.
But
he
’
ll
soon
be
home
for
good
,
now
.
Won
’
t
you
,
Father
?
’
