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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Крошка Доррит
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- Стр. 7/761
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Then
the
child
’
s
head
disappeared
,
and
the
prison
-
keeper
’
s
head
disappeared
,
but
the
little
voice
prolonged
the
strain
until
the
door
clashed
.
Monsieur
Rigaud
,
finding
the
listening
John
Baptist
in
his
way
before
the
echoes
had
ceased
(
even
the
echoes
were
the
weaker
for
imprisonment
,
and
seemed
to
lag
)
,
reminded
him
with
a
push
of
his
foot
that
he
had
better
resume
his
own
darker
place
.
The
little
man
sat
down
again
upon
the
pavement
with
the
negligent
ease
of
one
who
was
thoroughly
accustomed
to
pavements
;
and
placing
three
hunks
of
coarse
bread
before
himself
,
and
falling
to
upon
a
fourth
,
began
contentedly
to
work
his
way
through
them
as
if
to
clear
them
off
were
a
sort
of
game
.
Perhaps
he
glanced
at
the
Lyons
sausage
,
and
perhaps
he
glanced
at
the
veal
in
savoury
jelly
,
but
they
were
not
there
long
,
to
make
his
mouth
water
;
Monsieur
Rigaud
soon
dispatched
them
,
in
spite
of
the
president
and
tribunal
,
and
proceeded
to
suck
his
fingers
as
clean
as
he
could
,
and
to
wipe
them
on
his
vine
leaves
.
Then
,
as
he
paused
in
his
drink
to
contemplate
his
fellow
-
prisoner
,
his
moustache
went
up
,
and
his
nose
came
down
.
‘
How
do
you
find
the
bread
?
’
‘
A
little
dry
,
but
I
have
my
old
sauce
here
,
’
returned
John
Baptist
,
holding
up
his
knife
.
‘
How
sauce
?
’
‘
I
can
cut
my
bread
so
—
like
a
melon
.
Or
so
—
like
an
omelette
.
Or
so
—
like
a
fried
fish
.
Or
so
—
like
Lyons
sausage
,
’
said
John
Baptist
,
demonstrating
the
various
cuts
on
the
bread
he
held
,
and
soberly
chewing
what
he
had
in
his
mouth
.
‘
Here
!
’
cried
Monsieur
Rigaud
.
‘
You
may
drink
.
You
may
finish
this
.
’
It
was
no
great
gift
,
for
there
was
mighty
little
wine
left
;
but
Signor
Cavalletto
,
jumping
to
his
feet
,
received
the
bottle
gratefully
,
turned
it
upside
down
at
his
mouth
,
and
smacked
his
lips
.
