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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Оливер Твист
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'
Will
she
go
with
me
?
'
inquired
poor
Oliver
.
'
No
,
she
ca
n't
,
'
replied
Mr.
Bumble
.
'
But
she
'll
come
and
see
you
sometimes
.
'
This
was
no
very
great
consolation
to
the
child
.
Young
as
he
was
,
however
,
he
had
sense
enough
to
make
a
feint
of
feeling
great
regret
at
going
away
.
It
was
no
very
difficult
matter
for
the
boy
to
call
tears
into
his
eyes
.
Hunger
and
recent
ill-usage
are
great
assistants
if
you
want
to
cry
;
and
Oliver
cried
very
naturally
indeed
.
Mrs.
Mann
gave
him
a
thousand
embraces
,
and
what
Oliver
wanted
a
great
deal
more
,
a
piece
of
bread
and
butter
,
less
he
should
seem
too
hungry
when
he
got
to
the
workhouse
.
With
the
slice
of
bread
in
his
hand
,
and
the
little
brown-cloth
parish
cap
on
his
head
,
Oliver
was
then
led
away
by
Mr.
Bumble
from
the
wretched
home
where
one
kind
word
or
look
had
never
lighted
the
gloom
of
his
infant
years
.
And
yet
he
burst
into
an
agony
of
childish
grief
,
as
the
cottage-gate
closed
after
him
.
Wretched
as
were
the
little
companions
in
misery
he
was
leaving
behind
,
they
were
the
only
friends
he
had
ever
known
;
and
a
sense
of
his
loneliness
in
the
great
wide
world
,
sank
into
the
child
's
heart
for
the
first
time
.
Mr.
Bumble
walked
on
with
long
strides
;
little
Oliver
,
firmly
grasping
his
gold-laced
cuff
,
trotted
beside
him
,
inquiring
at
the
end
of
every
quarter
of
a
mile
whether
they
were
'
nearly
there
.
'
To
these
interrogations
Mr.
Bumble
returned
very
brief
and
snappish
replies
;
for
the
temporary
blandness
which
gin-and-water
awakens
in
some
bosoms
had
by
this
time
evaporated
;
and
he
was
once
again
a
beadle
.
Oliver
had
not
been
within
the
walls
of
the
workhouse
a
quarter
of
an
hour
,
and
had
scarcely
completed
the
demolition
of
a
second
slice
of
bread
,
when
Mr.
Bumble
,
who
had
handed
him
over
to
the
care
of
an
old
woman
,
returned
;
and
,
telling
him
it
was
a
board
night
,
informed
him
that
the
board
had
said
he
was
to
appear
before
it
forthwith
.
Not
having
a
very
clearly
defined
notion
of
what
a
live
board
was
,
Oliver
was
rather
astounded
by
this
intelligence
,
and
was
not
quite
certain
whether
he
ought
to
laugh
or
cry
.
He
had
no
time
to
think
about
the
matter
,
however
;
for
Mr.
Bumble
gave
him
a
tap
on
the
head
,
with
his
cane
,
to
wake
him
up
:
and
another
on
the
back
to
make
him
lively
:
and
bidding
him
to
follow
,
conducted
him
into
a
large
white-washed
room
,
where
eight
or
ten
fat
gentlemen
were
sitting
round
a
table
.
At
the
top
of
the
table
,
seated
in
an
arm-chair
rather
higher
than
the
rest
,
was
a
particularly
fat
gentleman
with
a
very
round
,
red
face
.
'
Bow
to
the
board
,
'
said
Bumble
.
Oliver
brushed
away
two
or
three
tears
that
were
lingering
in
his
eyes
;
and
seeing
no
board
but
the
table
,
fortunately
bowed
to
that
.
'
What
's
your
name
,
boy
?
'
said
the
gentleman
in
the
high
chair
.
Oliver
was
frightened
at
the
sight
of
so
many
gentlemen
,
which
made
him
tremble
:
and
the
beadle
gave
him
another
tap
behind
,
which
made
him
cry
.
These
two
causes
made
him
answer
in
a
very
low
and
hesitating
voice
;
whereupon
a
gentleman
in
a
white
waistcoat
said
he
was
a
fool
.
Which
was
a
capital
way
of
raising
his
spirits
,
and
putting
him
quite
at
his
ease
.
'
Boy
,
'
said
the
gentleman
in
the
high
chair
,
'
listen
to
me
.
You
know
you
're
an
orphan
,
I
suppose
?
'
