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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 178/859
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Pott
,
comfortably
seated
in
a
couple
of
chairs
,
waving
their
handkerchiefs
in
token
of
recognition
—
a
compliment
which
Mr
.
Pickwick
returned
by
kissing
his
hand
to
the
lady
.
The
proceedings
had
not
yet
commenced
;
and
as
an
inactive
crowd
is
generally
disposed
to
be
jocose
,
this
very
innocent
action
was
sufficient
to
awaken
their
facetiousness
.
‘
Oh
,
you
wicked
old
rascal
,
’
cried
one
voice
,
‘
looking
arter
the
girls
,
are
you
?
’
‘
Oh
,
you
wenerable
sinner
,
’
cried
another
.
‘
Putting
on
his
spectacles
to
look
at
a
married
‘
ooman
!
’
said
a
third
.
‘
I
see
him
a
-
winkin
’
at
her
,
with
his
wicked
old
eye
,
’
shouted
a
fourth
.
‘
Look
arter
your
wife
,
Pott
,
’
bellowed
a
fifth
—
and
then
there
was
a
roar
of
laughter
.
As
these
taunts
were
accompanied
with
invidious
comparisons
between
Mr
.
Pickwick
and
an
aged
ram
,
and
several
witticisms
of
the
like
nature
;
and
as
they
moreover
rather
tended
to
convey
reflections
upon
the
honour
of
an
innocent
lady
,
Mr
.
Pickwick
’
s
indignation
was
excessive
;
but
as
silence
was
proclaimed
at
the
moment
,
he
contented
himself
by
scorching
the
mob
with
a
look
of
pity
for
their
misguided
minds
,
at
which
they
laughed
more
boisterously
than
ever
.
‘
Silence
!
’
roared
the
mayor
’
s
attendants
.
‘
Whiffin
,
proclaim
silence
,
’
said
the
mayor
,
with
an
air
of
pomp
befitting
his
lofty
station
.
