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- Чарльз Диккенс
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‘
And
was
he
not
called
Blandois
?
’
‘
No
!
’
said
Mr
Baptist
.
‘
Altro
,
Altro
,
Altro
,
Altro
!
’
He
could
not
reject
the
name
sufficiently
,
with
his
head
and
his
right
forefinger
going
at
once
.
‘
Stay
!
’
cried
Clennam
,
spreading
out
the
handbill
on
his
desk
.
‘
Was
this
the
man
?
You
can
understand
what
I
read
aloud
?
’
‘
Altogether
.
Perfectly
.
’
‘
But
look
at
it
,
too
.
Come
here
and
look
over
me
,
while
I
read
.
’
Mr
Baptist
approached
,
followed
every
word
with
his
quick
eyes
,
saw
and
heard
it
all
out
with
the
greatest
impatience
,
then
clapped
his
two
hands
flat
upon
the
bill
as
if
he
had
fiercely
caught
some
noxious
creature
,
and
cried
,
looking
eagerly
at
Clennam
,
‘
It
is
the
man
!
Behold
him
!
’
‘
This
is
of
far
greater
moment
to
me
’
said
Clennam
,
in
great
agitation
,
‘
than
you
can
imagine
.
Tell
me
where
you
knew
the
man
.
’
Mr
Baptist
,
releasing
the
paper
very
slowly
and
with
much
discomfiture
,
and
drawing
himself
back
two
or
three
paces
,
and
making
as
though
he
dusted
his
hands
,
returned
,
very
much
against
his
will
:
‘
At
Marsiglia
—
Marseilles
.
’
‘
What
was
he
?
’
