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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 233/859
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‘
I
have
not
hurt
MYSELF
,
Sam
,
certainly
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
from
the
other
side
of
the
wall
,
‘
but
I
rather
think
that
YOU
have
hurt
me
.
’
‘
I
hope
not
,
Sir
,
’
said
Sam
.
‘
Never
mind
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
rising
,
‘
it
’
s
nothing
but
a
few
scratches
.
Go
away
,
or
we
shall
be
overheard
.
’
‘
Good
-
bye
,
Sir
.
’
‘
Good
-
bye
.
’
With
stealthy
steps
Sam
Weller
departed
,
leaving
Mr
.
Pickwick
alone
in
the
garden
.
Lights
occasionally
appeared
in
the
different
windows
of
the
house
,
or
glanced
from
the
staircases
,
as
if
the
inmates
were
retiring
to
rest
.
Not
caring
to
go
too
near
the
door
,
until
the
appointed
time
,
Mr
.
Pickwick
crouched
into
an
angle
of
the
wall
,
and
awaited
its
arrival
.
It
was
a
situation
which
might
well
have
depressed
the
spirits
of
many
a
man
.
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
however
,
felt
neither
depression
nor
misgiving
.
He
knew
that
his
purpose
was
in
the
main
a
good
one
,
and
he
placed
implicit
reliance
on
the
high
-
minded
Job
.
it
was
dull
,
certainly
;
not
to
say
dreary
;
but
a
contemplative
man
can
always
employ
himself
in
meditation
.
Mr
.
Pickwick
had
meditated
himself
into
a
doze
,
when
he
was
roused
by
the
chimes
of
the
neighbouring
church
ringing
out
the
hour
—
half
-
past
eleven
.
‘
That
’
s
the
time
,
’
thought
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
getting
cautiously
on
his
feet
.
He
looked
up
at
the
house
.
The
lights
had
disappeared
,
and
the
shutters
were
closed
—
all
in
bed
,
no
doubt
.
He
walked
on
tiptoe
to
the
door
,
and
gave
a
gentle
tap
.
Two
or
three
minutes
passing
without
any
reply
,
he
gave
another
tap
rather
louder
,
and
then
another
rather
louder
than
that
.
At
length
the
sound
of
feet
was
audible
upon
the
stairs
,
and
then
the
light
of
a
candle
shone
through
the
keyhole
of
the
door
.
There
was
a
good
deal
of
unchaining
and
unbolting
,
and
the
door
was
slowly
opened
.
