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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Крошка Доррит
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- Стр. 728/761
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For
a
few
moments
they
stood
motionless
.
Affery
was
the
first
to
move
,
and
she
,
wringing
her
hands
,
pursued
her
mistress
.
Next
,
Jeremiah
Flintwinch
,
slowly
backing
to
the
door
,
with
one
hand
in
a
pocket
,
and
the
other
rubbing
his
chin
,
twisted
himself
out
in
his
reticent
way
,
speechlessly
.
Rigaud
,
left
alone
,
composed
himself
upon
the
window
-
seat
of
the
open
window
,
in
the
old
Marseilles
-
jail
attitude
.
He
laid
his
cigarettes
and
fire
-
box
ready
to
his
hand
,
and
fell
to
smoking
.
‘
Whoof
!
Almost
as
dull
as
the
infernal
old
jail
.
Warmer
,
but
almost
as
dismal
.
Wait
till
she
comes
back
?
Yes
,
certainly
;
but
where
is
she
gone
,
and
how
long
will
she
be
gone
?
No
matter
!
Rigaud
Lagnier
Blandois
,
my
amiable
subject
,
you
will
get
your
money
.
You
will
enrich
yourself
You
have
lived
a
gentleman
;
you
will
die
a
gentleman
.
You
triumph
,
my
little
boy
;
but
it
is
your
character
to
triumph
.
Whoof
!
’
In
the
hour
of
his
triumph
,
his
moustache
went
up
and
his
nose
came
down
,
as
he
ogled
a
great
beam
over
his
head
with
particular
satisfaction
.
The
sun
had
set
,
and
the
streets
were
dim
in
the
dusty
twilight
,
when
the
figure
so
long
unused
to
them
hurried
on
its
way
.
In
the
immediate
neighbourhood
of
the
old
house
it
attracted
little
attention
,
for
there
were
only
a
few
straggling
people
to
notice
it
;
but
,
ascending
from
the
river
by
the
crooked
ways
that
led
to
London
Bridge
,
and
passing
into
the
great
main
road
,
it
became
surrounded
by
astonishment
.
Resolute
and
wild
of
look
,
rapid
of
foot
and
yet
weak
and
uncertain
,
conspicuously
dressed
in
its
black
garments
and
with
its
hurried
head
-
covering
,
gaunt
and
of
an
unearthly
paleness
,
it
pressed
forward
,
taking
no
more
heed
of
the
throng
than
a
sleep
-
walker
.
More
remarkable
by
being
so
removed
from
the
crowd
it
was
among
than
if
it
had
been
lifted
on
a
pedestal
to
be
seen
,
the
figure
attracted
all
eyes
.
Saunterers
pricked
up
their
attention
to
observe
it
;
busy
people
,
crossing
it
,
slackened
their
pace
and
turned
their
heads
;
companions
pausing
and
standing
aside
,
whispered
one
another
to
look
at
this
spectral
woman
who
was
coming
by
;
and
the
sweep
of
the
figure
as
it
passed
seemed
to
create
a
vortex
,
drawing
the
most
idle
and
most
curious
after
it
.
Made
giddy
by
the
turbulent
irruption
of
this
multitude
of
staring
faces
into
her
cell
of
years
,
by
the
confusing
sensation
of
being
in
the
air
,
and
the
yet
more
confusing
sensation
of
being
afoot
,
by
the
unexpected
changes
in
half
-
remembered
objects
,
and
the
want
of
likeness
between
the
controllable
pictures
her
imagination
had
often
drawn
of
the
life
from
which
she
was
secluded
and
the
overwhelming
rush
of
the
reality
,
she
held
her
way
as
if
she
were
environed
by
distracting
thoughts
,
rather
than
by
external
humanity
and
observation
.
But
,
having
crossed
the
bridge
and
gone
some
distance
straight
onward
,
she
remembered
that
she
must
ask
for
a
direction
;
and
it
was
only
then
,
when
she
stopped
and
turned
to
look
about
her
for
a
promising
place
of
inquiry
,
that
she
found
herself
surrounded
by
an
eager
glare
of
faces
.
‘
Why
are
you
encircling
me
?
’
she
asked
,
trembling
.
None
of
those
who
were
nearest
answered
;
but
from
the
outer
ring
there
arose
a
shrill
cry
of
‘
’
Cause
you
’
re
mad
!
’
‘
I
am
sure
as
sane
as
any
one
here
.
I
want
to
find
the
Marshalsea
prison
.
’
