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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 157/859
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‘
Oh
,
you
kind
,
good
,
playful
dear
,
’
said
Mrs
.
Bardell
;
and
without
more
ado
,
she
rose
from
her
chair
,
and
flung
her
arms
round
Mr
.
Pickwick
’
s
neck
,
with
a
cataract
of
tears
and
a
chorus
of
sobs
.
‘
Bless
my
soul
,
’
cried
the
astonished
Mr
.
Pickwick
;
‘
Mrs
.
Bardell
,
my
good
woman
—
dear
me
,
what
a
situation
—
pray
consider
.
—
Mrs
.
Bardell
,
don
’
t
—
if
anybody
should
come
—
’
‘
Oh
,
let
them
come
,
’
exclaimed
Mrs
.
Bardell
frantically
;
‘
I
’
ll
never
leave
you
—
dear
,
kind
,
good
soul
;
’
and
,
with
these
words
,
Mrs
.
Bardell
clung
the
tighter
.
‘
Mercy
upon
me
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
struggling
violently
,
‘
I
hear
somebody
coming
up
the
stairs
.
Don
’
t
,
don
’
t
,
there
’
s
a
good
creature
,
don
’
t
.
’
But
entreaty
and
remonstrance
were
alike
unavailing
;
for
Mrs
.
Bardell
had
fainted
in
Mr
.
Pickwick
’
s
arms
;
and
before
he
could
gain
time
to
deposit
her
on
a
chair
,
Master
Bardell
entered
the
room
,
ushering
in
Mr
.
Tupman
,
Mr
.
Winkle
,
and
Mr
.
Snodgrass
.
Mr
.
Pickwick
was
struck
motionless
and
speechless
.
He
stood
with
his
lovely
burden
in
his
arms
,
gazing
vacantly
on
the
countenances
of
his
friends
,
without
the
slightest
attempt
at
recognition
or
explanation
.
They
,
in
their
turn
,
stared
at
him
;
and
Master
Bardell
,
in
his
turn
,
stared
at
everybody
.
The
astonishment
of
the
Pickwickians
was
so
absorbing
,
and
the
perplexity
of
Mr
.
Pickwick
was
so
extreme
,
that
they
might
have
remained
in
exactly
the
same
relative
situations
until
the
suspended
animation
of
the
lady
was
restored
,
had
it
not
been
for
a
most
beautiful
and
touching
expression
of
filial
affection
on
the
part
of
her
youthful
son
.
Clad
in
a
tight
suit
of
corduroy
,
spangled
with
brass
buttons
of
a
very
considerable
size
,
he
at
first
stood
at
the
door
astounded
and
uncertain
;
but
by
degrees
,
the
impression
that
his
mother
must
have
suffered
some
personal
damage
pervaded
his
partially
developed
mind
,
and
considering
Mr
.
Pickwick
as
the
aggressor
,
he
set
up
an
appalling
and
semi
–
earthly
kind
of
howling
,
and
butting
forward
with
his
head
,
commenced
assailing
that
immortal
gentleman
about
the
back
and
legs
,
with
such
blows
and
pinches
as
the
strength
of
his
arm
,
and
the
violence
of
his
excitement
,
allowed
.
‘
Take
this
little
villain
away
,
’
said
the
agonised
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
‘
he
’
s
mad
.
’
‘
What
is
the
matter
?
’
said
the
three
tongue
-
tied
Pickwickians
.
