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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Стр. 597/761
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They
remained
in
a
dim
room
near
,
until
it
was
almost
midnight
,
quiet
and
sad
together
.
At
times
his
grief
would
seek
relief
in
a
burst
like
that
in
which
it
had
found
its
earliest
expression
;
but
,
besides
that
his
little
strength
would
soon
have
been
unequal
to
such
strains
,
he
never
failed
to
recall
her
words
,
and
to
reproach
himself
and
calm
himself
The
only
utterance
with
which
he
indulged
his
sorrow
,
was
the
frequent
exclamation
that
his
brother
was
gone
,
alone
;
that
they
had
been
together
in
the
outset
of
their
lives
,
that
they
had
fallen
into
misfortune
together
,
that
they
had
kept
together
through
their
many
years
of
poverty
,
that
they
had
remained
together
to
that
day
;
and
that
his
brother
was
gone
alone
,
alone
!
They
parted
,
heavy
and
sorrowful
.
She
would
not
consent
to
leave
him
anywhere
but
in
his
own
room
,
and
she
saw
him
lie
down
in
his
clothes
upon
his
bed
,
and
covered
him
with
her
own
hands
.
Then
she
sank
upon
her
own
bed
,
and
fell
into
a
deep
sleep
:
the
sleep
of
exhaustion
and
rest
,
though
not
of
complete
release
from
a
pervading
consciousness
of
affliction
.
Sleep
,
good
Little
Dorrit
.
Sleep
through
the
night
!
It
was
a
moonlight
night
;
but
the
moon
rose
late
,
being
long
past
the
full
.
When
it
was
high
in
the
peaceful
firmament
,
it
shone
through
half
-
closed
lattice
blinds
into
the
solemn
room
where
the
stumblings
and
wanderings
of
a
life
had
so
lately
ended
.
Two
quiet
figures
were
within
the
room
;
two
figures
,
equally
still
and
impassive
,
equally
removed
by
an
untraversable
distance
from
the
teeming
earth
and
all
that
it
contains
,
though
soon
to
lie
in
it
.
One
figure
reposed
upon
the
bed
.
The
other
,
kneeling
on
the
floor
,
drooped
over
it
;
the
arms
easily
and
peacefully
resting
on
the
coverlet
;
the
face
bowed
down
,
so
that
the
lips
touched
the
hand
over
which
with
its
last
breath
it
had
bent
.
The
two
brothers
were
before
their
Father
;
far
beyond
the
twilight
judgment
of
this
world
;
high
above
its
mists
and
obscurities
.
The
passengers
were
landing
from
the
packet
on
the
pier
at
Calais
.
A
low
-
lying
place
and
a
low
-
spirited
place
Calais
was
,
with
the
tide
ebbing
out
towards
low
water
-
mark
.
There
had
been
no
more
water
on
the
bar
than
had
sufficed
to
float
the
packet
in
;
and
now
the
bar
itself
,
with
a
shallow
break
of
sea
over
it
,
looked
like
a
lazy
marine
monster
just
risen
to
the
surface
,
whose
form
was
indistinctly
shown
as
it
lay
asleep
.
The
meagre
lighthouse
all
in
white
,
haunting
the
seaboard
as
if
it
were
the
ghost
of
an
edifice
that
had
once
had
colour
and
rotundity
,
dropped
melancholy
tears
after
its
late
buffeting
by
the
waves
.
The
long
rows
of
gaunt
black
piles
,
slimy
and
wet
and
weather
-
worn
,
with
funeral
garlands
of
seaweed
twisted
about
them
by
the
late
tide
,
might
have
represented
an
unsightly
marine
cemetery
.
Every
wave
-
dashed
,
storm
-
beaten
object
,
was
so
low
and
so
little
,
under
the
broad
grey
sky
,
in
the
noise
of
the
wind
and
sea
,
and
before
the
curling
lines
of
surf
,
making
at
it
ferociously
,
that
the
wonder
was
there
was
any
Calais
left
,
and
that
its
low
gates
and
low
wall
and
low
roofs
and
low
ditches
and
low
sand
-
hills
and
low
ramparts
and
flat
streets
,
had
not
yielded
long
ago
to
the
undermining
and
besieging
sea
,
like
the
fortifications
children
make
on
the
sea
-
shore
.
After
slipping
among
oozy
piles
and
planks
,
stumbling
up
wet
steps
and
encountering
many
salt
difficulties
,
the
passengers
entered
on
their
comfortless
peregrination
along
the
pier
;
where
all
the
French
vagabonds
and
English
outlaws
in
the
town
(
half
the
population
)
attended
to
prevent
their
recovery
from
bewilderment
.
After
being
minutely
inspected
by
all
the
English
,
and
claimed
and
reclaimed
and
counter
-
claimed
as
prizes
by
all
the
French
in
a
hand
-
to
-
hand
scuffle
three
quarters
of
a
mile
long
,
they
were
at
last
free
to
enter
the
streets
,
and
to
make
off
in
their
various
directions
,
hotly
pursued
.
Clennam
,
harassed
by
more
anxieties
than
one
,
was
among
this
devoted
band
.
Having
rescued
the
most
defenceless
of
his
compatriots
from
situations
of
great
extremity
,
he
now
went
his
way
alone
,
or
as
nearly
alone
as
he
could
be
,
with
a
native
gentleman
in
a
suit
of
grease
and
a
cap
of
the
same
material
,
giving
chase
at
a
distance
of
some
fifty
yards
,
and
continually
calling
after
him
,
‘
Hi
!
Ice
-
say
!
You
!
Seer
!
Ice
-
say
!
Nice
Oatel
!
’
Even
this
hospitable
person
,
however
,
was
left
behind
at
last
,
and
Clennam
pursued
his
way
,
unmolested
.
There
was
a
tranquil
air
in
the
town
after
the
turbulence
of
the
Channel
and
the
beach
,
and
its
dulness
in
that
comparison
was
agreeable
.
He
met
new
groups
of
his
countrymen
,
who
had
all
a
straggling
air
of
having
at
one
time
overblown
themselves
,
like
certain
uncomfortable
kinds
of
flowers
,
and
of
being
now
mere
weeds
.
They
had
all
an
air
,
too
,
of
lounging
out
a
limited
round
,
day
after
day
,
which
strongly
reminded
him
of
the
Marshalsea
.
But
,
taking
no
further
note
of
them
than
was
sufficient
to
give
birth
to
the
reflection
,
he
sought
out
a
certain
street
and
number
which
he
kept
in
his
mind
.
