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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Стр. 149/859
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How
I
used
to
hug
myself
with
delight
,
when
I
thought
of
the
fine
trick
I
was
playing
them
after
their
old
pointing
and
leering
,
when
I
was
not
mad
,
but
only
dreading
that
I
might
one
day
become
so
!
And
how
I
used
to
laugh
for
joy
,
when
I
was
alone
,
and
thought
how
well
I
kept
my
secret
,
and
how
quickly
my
kind
friends
would
have
fallen
from
me
,
if
they
had
known
the
truth
.
I
could
have
screamed
with
ecstasy
when
I
dined
alone
with
some
fine
roaring
fellow
,
to
think
how
pale
he
would
have
turned
,
and
how
fast
he
would
have
run
,
if
he
had
known
that
the
dear
friend
who
sat
close
to
him
,
sharpening
a
bright
,
glittering
knife
,
was
a
madman
with
all
the
power
,
and
half
the
will
,
to
plunge
it
in
his
heart
.
Oh
,
it
was
a
merry
life
!
‘
Riches
became
mine
,
wealth
poured
in
upon
me
,
and
I
rioted
in
pleasures
enhanced
a
thousandfold
to
me
by
the
consciousness
of
my
well
-
kept
secret
.
I
inherited
an
estate
.
The
law
—
the
eagle
-
eyed
law
itself
—
had
been
deceived
,
and
had
handed
over
disputed
thousands
to
a
madman
’
s
hands
.
Where
was
the
wit
of
the
sharp
-
sighted
men
of
sound
mind
?
Where
the
dexterity
of
the
lawyers
,
eager
to
discover
a
flaw
?
The
madman
’
s
cunning
had
overreached
them
all
.
‘
I
had
money
.
How
I
was
courted
!
I
spent
it
profusely
.
How
I
was
praised
!
How
those
three
proud
,
overbearing
brothers
humbled
themselves
before
me
!
The
old
,
white
-
headed
father
,
too
—
such
deference
—
such
respect
—
such
devoted
friendship
—
he
worshipped
me
!
The
old
man
had
a
daughter
,
and
the
young
men
a
sister
;
and
all
the
five
were
poor
.
I
was
rich
;
and
when
I
married
the
girl
,
I
saw
a
smile
of
triumph
play
upon
the
faces
of
her
needy
relatives
,
as
they
thought
of
their
well
-
planned
scheme
,
and
their
fine
prize
.
It
was
for
me
to
smile
.
To
smile
!
To
laugh
outright
,
and
tear
my
hair
,
and
roll
upon
the
ground
with
shrieks
of
merriment
.
They
little
thought
they
had
married
her
to
a
madman
.
‘
Stay
.
If
they
had
known
it
,
would
they
have
saved
her
?
A
sister
’
s
happiness
against
her
husband
’
s
gold
.
The
lightest
feather
I
blow
into
the
air
,
against
the
gay
chain
that
ornaments
my
body
!
‘
In
one
thing
I
was
deceived
with
all
my
cunning
.
If
I
had
not
been
mad
—
for
though
we
madmen
are
sharp
-
witted
enough
,
we
get
bewildered
sometimes
—
I
should
have
known
that
the
girl
would
rather
have
been
placed
,
stiff
and
cold
in
a
dull
leaden
coffin
,
than
borne
an
envied
bride
to
my
rich
,
glittering
house
.
I
should
have
known
that
her
heart
was
with
the
dark
-
eyed
boy
whose
name
I
once
heard
her
breathe
in
her
troubled
sleep
;
and
that
she
had
been
sacrificed
to
me
,
to
relieve
the
poverty
of
the
old
,
white
-
headed
man
and
the
haughty
brothers
.
‘
I
don
’
t
remember
forms
or
faces
now
,
but
I
know
the
girl
was
beautiful
.
I
know
she
was
;
for
in
the
bright
moonlight
nights
,
when
I
start
up
from
my
sleep
,
and
all
is
quiet
about
me
,
I
see
,
standing
still
and
motionless
in
one
corner
of
this
cell
,
a
slight
and
wasted
figure
with
long
black
hair
,
which
,
streaming
down
her
back
,
stirs
with
no
earthly
wind
,
and
eyes
that
fix
their
gaze
on
me
,
and
never
wink
or
close
.
Hush
!
the
blood
chills
at
my
heart
as
I
write
it
down
—
that
form
is
HERS
;
the
face
is
very
pale
,
and
the
eyes
are
glassy
bright
;
but
I
know
them
well
.
That
figure
never
moves
;
it
never
frowns
and
mouths
as
others
do
,
that
fill
this
place
sometimes
;
but
it
is
much
more
dreadful
to
me
,
even
than
the
spirits
that
tempted
me
many
years
ago
—
it
comes
fresh
from
the
grave
;
and
is
so
very
death
-
like
.
‘
For
nearly
a
year
I
saw
that
face
grow
paler
;
for
nearly
a
year
I
saw
the
tears
steal
down
the
mournful
cheeks
,
and
never
knew
the
cause
.
I
found
it
out
at
last
though
.
They
could
not
keep
it
from
me
long
.
She
had
never
liked
me
;
I
had
never
thought
she
did
:
she
despised
my
wealth
,
and
hated
the
splendour
in
which
she
lived
;
but
I
had
not
expected
that
.
She
loved
another
.
This
I
had
never
thought
of
.
Strange
feelings
came
over
me
,
and
thoughts
,
forced
upon
me
by
some
secret
power
,
whirled
round
and
round
my
brain
.
I
did
not
hate
her
,
though
I
hated
the
boy
she
still
wept
for
.
I
pitied
—
yes
,
I
pitied
—
the
wretched
life
to
which
her
cold
and
selfish
relations
had
doomed
her
.
I
knew
that
she
could
not
live
long
;
but
the
thought
that
before
her
death
she
might
give
birth
to
some
ill
-
fated
being
,
destined
to
hand
down
madness
to
its
offspring
,
determined
me
.
I
resolved
to
kill
her
.
‘
For
many
weeks
I
thought
of
poison
,
and
then
of
drowning
,
and
then
of
fire
.
A
fine
sight
,
the
grand
house
in
flames
,
and
the
madman
’
s
wife
smouldering
away
to
cinders
.
