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- Чарльз Диккенс
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‘
To
try
me
,
eh
?
’
said
Rigaud
,
pausing
,
knife
in
hand
and
morsel
in
mouth
.
‘
You
have
said
it
.
To
try
you
.
’
‘
There
is
no
news
for
me
?
’
asked
John
Baptist
,
who
had
begun
,
contentedly
,
to
munch
his
bread
.
The
jailer
shrugged
his
shoulders
.
‘
Lady
of
mine
!
Am
I
to
lie
here
all
my
life
,
my
father
?
’
‘
What
do
I
know
!
’
cried
the
jailer
,
turning
upon
him
with
southern
quickness
,
and
gesticulating
with
both
his
hands
and
all
his
fingers
,
as
if
he
were
threatening
to
tear
him
to
pieces
.
‘
My
friend
,
how
is
it
possible
for
me
to
tell
how
long
you
are
to
lie
here
?
What
do
I
know
,
John
Baptist
Cavalletto
?
Death
of
my
life
!
There
are
prisoners
here
sometimes
,
who
are
not
in
such
a
devil
of
a
hurry
to
be
tried
.
’
He
seemed
to
glance
obliquely
at
Monsieur
Rigaud
in
this
remark
;
but
Monsieur
Rigaud
had
already
resumed
his
meal
,
though
not
with
quite
so
quick
an
appetite
as
before
.
‘
Adieu
,
my
birds
!
’
said
the
keeper
of
the
prison
,
taking
his
pretty
child
in
his
arms
,
and
dictating
the
words
with
a
kiss
.
‘
Adieu
,
my
birds
!
’
the
pretty
child
repeated
.
Her
innocent
face
looked
back
so
brightly
over
his
shoulder
,
as
he
walked
away
with
her
,
singing
her
the
song
of
the
child
’
s
game
:
