-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Чарльз Диккенс
-
- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
-
- Стр. 209/859
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
The
morning
came
:
it
was
a
pleasant
sight
to
behold
Mr
.
Tupman
in
full
brigand
’
s
costume
,
with
a
very
tight
jacket
,
sitting
like
a
pincushion
over
his
back
and
shoulders
,
the
upper
portion
of
his
legs
incased
in
the
velvet
shorts
,
and
the
lower
part
thereof
swathed
in
the
complicated
bandages
to
which
all
brigands
are
peculiarly
attached
.
It
was
pleasing
to
see
his
open
and
ingenuous
countenance
,
well
mustachioed
and
corked
,
looking
out
from
an
open
shirt
collar
;
and
to
contemplate
the
sugar
-
loaf
hat
,
decorated
with
ribbons
of
all
colours
,
which
he
was
compelled
to
carry
on
his
knee
,
inasmuch
as
no
known
conveyance
with
a
top
to
it
,
would
admit
of
any
man
’
s
carrying
it
between
his
head
and
the
roof
.
Equally
humorous
and
agreeable
was
the
appearance
of
Mr
.
Snodgrass
in
blue
satin
trunks
and
cloak
,
white
silk
tights
and
shoes
,
and
Grecian
helmet
,
which
everybody
knows
(
and
if
they
do
not
,
Mr
.
Solomon
Lucas
did
)
to
have
been
the
regular
,
authentic
,
everyday
costume
of
a
troubadour
,
from
the
earliest
ages
down
to
the
time
of
their
final
disappearance
from
the
face
of
the
earth
.
All
this
was
pleasant
,
but
this
was
as
nothing
compared
with
the
shouting
of
the
populace
when
the
carriage
drew
up
,
behind
Mr
.
Pott
’
s
chariot
,
which
chariot
itself
drew
up
at
Mr
.
Pott
’
s
door
,
which
door
itself
opened
,
and
displayed
the
great
Pott
accoutred
as
a
Russian
officer
of
justice
,
with
a
tremendous
knout
in
his
hand
—
tastefully
typical
of
the
stern
and
mighty
power
of
the
Eatanswill
GAZETTE
,
and
the
fearful
lashings
it
bestowed
on
public
offenders
.
‘
Bravo
!
’
shouted
Mr
.
Tupman
and
Mr
.
Snodgrass
from
the
passage
,
when
they
beheld
the
walking
allegory
.
‘
Bravo
!
’
Mr
.
Pickwick
was
heard
to
exclaim
,
from
the
passage
.
‘
Hoo
-
roar
Pott
!
’
shouted
the
populace
.
Amid
these
salutations
,
Mr
.
Pott
,
smiling
with
that
kind
of
bland
dignity
which
sufficiently
testified
that
he
felt
his
power
,
and
knew
how
to
exert
it
,
got
into
the
chariot
.
Then
there
emerged
from
the
house
,
Mrs
.
Pott
,
who
would
have
looked
very
like
Apollo
if
she
hadn
’
t
had
a
gown
on
,
conducted
by
Mr
.
Winkle
,
who
,
in
his
light
-
red
coat
could
not
possibly
have
been
mistaken
for
anything
but
a
sportsman
,
if
he
had
not
borne
an
equal
resemblance
to
a
general
postman
.
Last
of
all
came
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
whom
the
boys
applauded
as
loud
as
anybody
,
probably
under
the
impression
that
his
tights
and
gaiters
were
some
remnants
of
the
dark
ages
;
and
then
the
two
vehicles
proceeded
towards
Mrs
.
Leo
Hunter
’
s
;
Mr
.
Weller
(
who
was
to
assist
in
waiting
)
being
stationed
on
the
box
of
that
in
which
his
master
was
seated
.
Every
one
of
the
men
,
women
,
boys
,
girls
,
and
babies
,
who
were
assembled
to
see
the
visitors
in
their
fancy
-
dresses
,
screamed
with
delight
and
ecstasy
,
when
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
with
the
brigand
on
one
arm
,
and
the
troubadour
on
the
other
,
walked
solemnly
up
the
entrance
.
Never
were
such
shouts
heard
as
those
which
greeted
Mr
.
Tupman
’
s
efforts
to
fix
the
sugar
-
loaf
hat
on
his
head
,
by
way
of
entering
the
garden
in
style
.
The
preparations
were
on
the
most
delightful
scale
;
fully
realising
the
prophetic
Pott
’
s
anticipations
about
the
gorgeousness
of
Eastern
fairyland
,
and
at
once
affording
a
sufficient
contradiction
to
the
malignant
statements
of
the
reptile
INDEPENDENT
.
The
grounds
were
more
than
an
acre
and
a
quarter
in
extent
,
and
they
were
filled
with
people
!
Never
was
such
a
blaze
of
beauty
,
and
fashion
,
and
literature
.
There
was
the
young
lady
who
‘
did
’
the
poetry
in
the
Eatanswill
GAZETTE
,
in
the
garb
of
a
sultana
,
leaning
upon
the
arm
of
the
young
gentleman
who
‘
did
’
the
review
department
,
and
who
was
appropriately
habited
in
a
field
-
marshal
’
s
uniform
—
the
boots
excepted
.
There
were
hosts
of
these
geniuses
,
and
any
reasonable
person
would
have
thought
it
honour
enough
to
meet
them
.
But
more
than
these
,
there
were
half
a
dozen
lions
from
London
—
authors
,
real
authors
,
who
had
written
whole
books
,
and
printed
them
afterwards
—
and
here
you
might
see
’
em
,
walking
about
,
like
ordinary
men
,
smiling
,
and
talking
—
aye
,
and
talking
pretty
considerable
nonsense
too
,
no
doubt
with
the
benign
intention
of
rendering
themselves
intelligible
to
the
common
people
about
them
.
Moreover
,
there
was
a
band
of
music
in
pasteboard
caps
;
four
something
-
ean
singers
in
the
costume
of
their
country
,
and
a
dozen
hired
waiters
in
the
costume
of
THEIR
country
—
and
very
dirty
costume
too
.
And
above
all
,
there
was
Mrs
.
Leo
Hunter
in
the
character
of
Minerva
,
receiving
the
company
,
and
overflowing
with
pride
and
gratification
at
the
notion
of
having
called
such
distinguished
individuals
together
.
