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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Оливер Твист
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- Стр. 147/420
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The
more
he
thought
of
the
Jew
's
admonition
,
the
more
he
was
at
a
loss
to
divine
its
real
purpose
and
meaning
.
He
could
think
of
no
bad
object
to
be
attained
by
sending
him
to
Sikes
,
which
would
not
be
equally
well
answered
by
his
remaining
with
Fagin
;
and
after
meditating
for
a
long
time
,
concluded
that
he
had
been
selected
to
perform
some
ordinary
menial
offices
for
the
housebreaker
,
until
another
boy
,
better
suited
for
his
purpose
could
be
engaged
.
He
was
too
well
accustomed
to
suffering
,
and
had
suffered
too
much
where
he
was
,
to
bewail
the
prospect
of
change
very
severely
.
He
remained
lost
in
thought
for
some
minutes
;
and
then
,
with
a
heavy
sigh
,
snuffed
the
candle
,
and
,
taking
up
the
book
which
the
Jew
had
left
with
him
,
began
to
read
.
He
turned
over
the
leaves
.
Carelessly
at
first
;
but
,
lighting
on
a
passage
which
attracted
his
attention
,
he
soon
became
intent
upon
the
volume
.
It
was
a
history
of
the
lives
and
trials
of
great
criminals
;
and
the
pages
were
soiled
and
thumbed
with
use
.
Here
,
he
read
of
dreadful
crimes
that
made
the
blood
run
cold
;
of
secret
murders
that
had
been
committed
by
the
lonely
wayside
;
of
bodies
hidden
from
the
eye
of
man
in
deep
pits
and
wells
:
which
would
not
keep
them
down
,
deep
as
they
were
,
but
had
yielded
them
up
at
last
,
after
many
years
,
and
so
maddened
the
murderers
with
the
sight
,
that
in
their
horror
they
had
confessed
their
guilt
,
and
yelled
for
the
gibbet
to
end
their
agony
.
Here
,
too
,
he
read
of
men
who
,
lying
in
their
beds
at
dead
of
night
,
had
been
tempted
(
so
they
said
)
and
led
on
,
by
their
own
bad
thoughts
,
to
such
dreadful
bloodshed
as
it
made
the
flesh
creep
,
and
the
limbs
quail
,
to
think
of
.
The
terrible
descriptions
were
so
real
and
vivid
,
that
the
sallow
pages
seemed
to
turn
red
with
gore
;
and
the
words
upon
them
,
to
be
sounded
in
his
ears
,
as
if
they
were
whispered
,
in
hollow
murmers
,
by
the
spirits
of
the
dead
.
In
a
paroxysm
of
fear
,
the
boy
closed
the
book
,
and
thrust
it
from
him
.
Then
,
falling
upon
his
knees
,
he
prayed
Heaven
to
spare
him
from
such
deeds
;
and
rather
to
will
that
he
should
die
at
once
,
than
be
reserved
for
crimes
,
so
fearful
and
appaling
.
By
degrees
,
he
grew
more
calm
,
and
besought
,
in
a
low
and
broken
voice
,
that
he
might
be
rescued
from
his
present
dangers
;
and
that
if
any
aid
were
to
be
raised
up
for
a
poor
outcast
boy
who
had
never
known
the
love
of
friends
or
kindred
,
it
might
come
to
him
now
,
when
,
desolate
and
deserted
,
he
stood
alone
in
the
midst
of
wickedness
and
guilt
.
He
had
concluded
his
prayer
,
but
still
remained
with
his
head
buried
in
his
hands
,
when
a
rustling
noise
aroused
him
.
'
What
's
that
!
'
he
cried
,
starting
up
,
and
catching
sight
of
a
figure
standing
by
the
door
.
'
Who
's
there
?
'
'
Me
.
Only
me
,
'
replied
a
tremulous
voice
.
Oliver
raised
the
candle
above
his
head
:
and
looked
towards
the
door
.
It
was
Nancy
.
'
Put
down
the
light
,
'
said
the
girl
,
turning
away
her
head
.
'
It
hurts
my
eyes
.
'
