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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 247/859
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‘
Pleasantry
,
sir
!
’
exclaimed
Pott
,
with
a
motion
of
the
hand
,
indicative
of
a
strong
desire
to
hurl
the
Britannia
metal
teapot
at
the
head
of
the
visitor
.
‘
Pleasantry
,
sir
!
—
But
—
no
,
I
will
be
calm
;
I
will
be
calm
,
Sir
;
’
in
proof
of
his
calmness
,
Mr
.
Pott
flung
himself
into
a
chair
,
and
foamed
at
the
mouth
.
‘
My
dear
sir
,
’
interposed
Mr
.
Winkle
.
‘
DEAR
Sir
!
’
replied
Pott
.
‘
How
dare
you
address
me
,
as
dear
Sir
,
Sir
?
How
dare
you
look
me
in
the
face
and
do
it
,
sir
?
’
‘
Well
,
Sir
,
if
you
come
to
that
,
’
responded
Mr
.
Winkle
,
‘
how
dare
you
look
me
in
the
face
,
and
call
me
a
serpent
,
sir
?
’
‘
Because
you
are
one
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Pott
.
‘
Prove
it
,
Sir
,
’
said
Mr
.
Winkle
warmly
.
‘
Prove
it
.
’
A
malignant
scowl
passed
over
the
profound
face
of
the
editor
,
as
he
drew
from
his
pocket
the
INDEPENDENT
of
that
morning
;
and
laying
his
finger
on
a
particular
paragraph
,
threw
the
journal
across
the
table
to
Mr
.
Winkle
.
That
gentleman
took
it
up
,
and
read
as
follows
:
—
‘
Our
obscure
and
filthy
contemporary
,
in
some
disgusting
observations
on
the
recent
election
for
this
borough
,
has
presumed
to
violate
the
hallowed
sanctity
of
private
life
,
and
to
refer
,
in
a
manner
not
to
be
misunderstood
,
to
the
personal
affairs
of
our
late
candidate
—
aye
,
and
notwithstanding
his
base
defeat
,
we
will
add
,
our
future
member
,
Mr
.
Fizkin
.
