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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Крошка Доррит
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- Стр. 402/761
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And
now
,
when
it
was
dark
below
,
though
they
seemed
solemnly
to
recede
,
like
spectres
who
were
going
to
vanish
,
as
the
red
dye
of
the
sunset
faded
out
of
them
and
left
them
coldly
white
,
they
were
yet
distinctly
defined
in
their
loneliness
above
the
mists
and
shadows
.
Seen
from
these
solitudes
,
and
from
the
Pass
of
the
Great
Saint
Bernard
,
which
was
one
of
them
,
the
ascending
Night
came
up
the
mountain
like
a
rising
water
.
When
it
at
last
rose
to
the
walls
of
the
convent
of
the
Great
Saint
Bernard
,
it
was
as
if
that
weather
-
beaten
structure
were
another
Ark
,
and
floated
on
the
shadowy
waves
.
Darkness
,
outstripping
some
visitors
on
mules
,
had
risen
thus
to
the
rough
convent
walls
,
when
those
travellers
were
yet
climbing
the
mountain
.
As
the
heat
of
the
glowing
day
when
they
had
stopped
to
drink
at
the
streams
of
melted
ice
and
snow
,
was
changed
to
the
searching
cold
of
the
frosty
rarefied
night
air
at
a
great
height
,
so
the
fresh
beauty
of
the
lower
journey
had
yielded
to
barrenness
and
desolation
.
A
craggy
track
,
up
which
the
mules
in
single
file
scrambled
and
turned
from
block
to
block
,
as
though
they
were
ascending
the
broken
staircase
of
a
gigantic
ruin
,
was
their
way
now
.
No
trees
were
to
be
seen
,
nor
any
vegetable
growth
save
a
poor
brown
scrubby
moss
,
freezing
in
the
chinks
of
rock
.
Blackened
skeleton
arms
of
wood
by
the
wayside
pointed
upward
to
the
convent
as
if
the
ghosts
of
former
travellers
overwhelmed
by
the
snow
haunted
the
scene
of
their
distress
.
Icicle
-
hung
caves
and
cellars
built
for
refuges
from
sudden
storms
,
were
like
so
many
whispers
of
the
perils
of
the
place
;
never
-
resting
wreaths
and
mazes
of
mist
wandered
about
,
hunted
by
a
moaning
wind
;
and
snow
,
the
besetting
danger
of
the
mountain
,
against
which
all
its
defences
were
taken
,
drifted
sharply
down
.
The
file
of
mules
,
jaded
by
their
day
’
s
work
,
turned
and
wound
slowly
up
the
deep
ascent
;
the
foremost
led
by
a
guide
on
foot
,
in
his
broad
-
brimmed
hat
and
round
jacket
,
carrying
a
mountain
staff
or
two
upon
his
shoulder
,
with
whom
another
guide
conversed
.
There
was
no
speaking
among
the
string
of
riders
.
The
sharp
cold
,
the
fatigue
of
the
journey
,
and
a
new
sensation
of
a
catching
in
the
breath
,
partly
as
if
they
had
just
emerged
from
very
clear
crisp
water
,
and
partly
as
if
they
had
been
sobbing
,
kept
them
silent
.
At
length
,
a
light
on
the
summit
of
the
rocky
staircase
gleamed
through
the
snow
and
mist
.
The
guides
called
to
the
mules
,
the
mules
pricked
up
their
drooping
heads
,
the
travellers
’
tongues
were
loosened
,
and
in
a
sudden
burst
of
slipping
,
climbing
,
jingling
,
clinking
,
and
talking
,
they
arrived
at
the
convent
door
.
Other
mules
had
arrived
not
long
before
,
some
with
peasant
riders
and
some
with
goods
,
and
had
trodden
the
snow
about
the
door
into
a
pool
of
mud
.
Riding
-
saddles
and
bridles
,
pack
-
saddles
and
strings
of
bells
,
mules
and
men
,
lanterns
,
torches
,
sacks
,
provender
,
barrels
,
cheeses
,
kegs
of
honey
and
butter
,
straw
bundles
and
packages
of
many
shapes
,
were
crowded
confusedly
together
in
this
thawed
quagmire
and
about
the
steps
.
Up
here
in
the
clouds
,
everything
was
seen
through
cloud
,
and
seemed
dissolving
into
cloud
.
The
breath
of
the
men
was
cloud
,
the
breath
of
the
mules
was
cloud
,
the
lights
were
encircled
by
cloud
,
speakers
close
at
hand
were
not
seen
for
cloud
,
though
their
voices
and
all
other
sounds
were
surprisingly
clear
.
Of
the
cloudy
line
of
mules
hastily
tied
to
rings
in
the
wall
,
one
would
bite
another
,
or
kick
another
,
and
then
the
whole
mist
would
be
disturbed
:
with
men
diving
into
it
,
and
cries
of
men
and
beasts
coming
out
of
it
,
and
no
bystander
discerning
what
was
wrong
.
In
the
midst
of
this
,
the
great
stable
of
the
convent
,
occupying
the
basement
story
and
entered
by
the
basement
door
,
outside
which
all
the
disorder
was
,
poured
forth
its
contribution
of
cloud
,
as
if
the
whole
rugged
edifice
were
filled
with
nothing
else
,
and
would
collapse
as
soon
as
it
had
emptied
itself
,
leaving
the
snow
to
fall
upon
the
bare
mountain
summit
.
While
all
this
noise
and
hurry
were
rife
among
the
living
travellers
,
there
,
too
,
silently
assembled
in
a
grated
house
half
-
a
-
dozen
paces
removed
,
with
the
same
cloud
enfolding
them
and
the
same
snow
flakes
drifting
in
upon
them
,
were
the
dead
travellers
found
upon
the
mountain
.
The
mother
,
storm
-
belated
many
winters
ago
,
still
standing
in
the
corner
with
her
baby
at
her
breast
;
the
man
who
had
frozen
with
his
arm
raised
to
his
mouth
in
fear
or
hunger
,
still
pressing
it
with
his
dry
lips
after
years
and
years
.
An
awful
company
,
mysteriously
come
together
!
A
wild
destiny
for
that
mother
to
have
foreseen
!
‘
Surrounded
by
so
many
and
such
companions
upon
whom
I
never
looked
,
and
never
shall
look
,
I
and
my
child
will
dwell
together
inseparable
,
on
the
Great
Saint
Bernard
,
outlasting
generations
who
will
come
to
see
us
,
and
will
never
know
our
name
,
or
one
word
of
our
story
but
the
end
.
’
