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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Оливер Твист
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- Стр. 166/420
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Then
came
the
loud
ringing
of
a
bell
,
mingled
with
the
noise
of
fire-arms
,
and
the
shouts
of
men
,
and
the
sensation
of
being
carried
over
uneven
ground
at
a
rapid
pace
.
And
then
,
the
noises
grew
confused
in
the
distance
;
and
a
cold
deadly
feeling
crept
over
the
boy
's
heart
;
and
he
saw
or
heard
no
more
.
The
night
was
bitter
cold
.
The
snow
lay
on
the
ground
,
frozen
into
a
hard
thick
crust
,
so
that
only
the
heaps
that
had
drifted
into
byways
and
corners
were
affected
by
the
sharp
wind
that
howled
abroad
:
which
,
as
if
expending
increased
fury
on
such
prey
as
it
found
,
caught
it
savagely
up
in
clouds
,
and
,
whirling
it
into
a
thousand
misty
eddies
,
scattered
it
in
air
.
Bleak
,
dark
,
and
piercing
cold
,
it
was
a
night
for
the
well-housed
and
fed
to
draw
round
the
bright
fire
and
thank
God
they
were
at
home
;
and
for
the
homeless
,
starving
wretch
to
lay
him
down
and
die
.
Many
hunger-worn
outcasts
close
their
eyes
in
our
bare
streets
,
at
such
times
,
who
,
let
their
crimes
have
been
what
they
may
,
can
hardly
open
them
in
a
more
bitter
world
.
Such
was
the
aspect
of
out-of-doors
affairs
,
when
Mr.
Corney
,
the
matron
of
the
workhouse
to
which
our
readers
have
been
already
introduced
as
the
birthplace
of
Oliver
Twist
,
sat
herself
down
before
a
cheerful
fire
in
her
own
little
room
,
and
glanced
,
with
no
small
degree
of
complacency
,
at
a
small
round
table
:
on
which
stood
a
tray
of
corresponding
size
,
furnished
with
all
necessary
materials
for
the
most
grateful
meal
that
matrons
enjoy
.
In
fact
,
Mrs.
Corney
was
about
to
solace
herself
with
a
cup
of
tea
.
As
she
glanced
from
the
table
to
the
fireplace
,
where
the
smallest
of
all
possible
kettles
was
singing
a
small
song
in
a
small
voice
,
her
inward
satisfaction
evidently
increased
--
so
much
so
,
indeed
,
that
Mrs.
Corney
smiled
.
'
Well
!
'
said
the
matron
,
leaning
her
elbow
on
the
table
,
and
looking
reflectively
at
the
fire
;
'
I
'm
sure
we
have
all
on
us
a
great
deal
to
be
grateful
for
!
A
great
deal
,
if
we
did
but
know
it
.
Ah
!
'
Mrs.
Corney
shook
her
head
mournfully
,
as
if
deploring
the
mental
blindness
of
those
paupers
who
did
not
know
it
;
and
thrusting
a
silver
spoon
(
private
property
)
into
the
inmost
recesses
of
a
two-ounce
tin
tea-caddy
,
proceeded
to
make
the
tea
.
How
slight
a
thing
will
disturb
the
equanimity
of
our
frail
minds
!
The
black
teapot
,
being
very
small
and
easily
filled
,
ran
over
while
Mrs.
Corney
was
moralising
;
and
the
water
slightly
scalded
Mrs.
Corney
's
hand
.
'
Drat
the
pot
!
'
said
the
worthy
matron
,
setting
it
down
very
hastily
on
the
hob
;
'
a
little
stupid
thing
,
that
only
holds
a
couple
of
cups
!
What
use
is
it
of
,
to
anybody
!
Except
,
'
said
Mrs.
Corney
,
pausing
,
'
except
to
a
poor
desolate
creature
like
me
.
Oh
dear
!
'
With
these
words
,
the
matron
dropped
into
her
chair
,
and
,
once
more
resting
her
elbow
on
the
table
,
thought
of
her
solitary
fate
.
The
small
teapot
,
and
the
single
cup
,
had
awakened
in
her
mind
sad
recollections
of
Mr.
Corney
(
who
had
not
been
dead
more
than
five-and-twenty
years
)
;
and
she
was
overpowered
.
'
I
shall
never
get
another
!
'
said
Mrs.
Corney
,
pettishly
;
'
I
shall
never
get
another
--
like
him
.
'
Whether
this
remark
bore
reference
to
the
husband
,
or
the
teapot
,
is
uncertain
.
It
might
have
been
the
latter
;
for
Mrs.
Corney
looked
at
it
as
she
spoke
;
and
took
it
up
afterwards
.
