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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 276/859
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‘
What
did
he
say
his
name
was
?
’
asked
the
captain
.
‘
Punch
,
I
think
,
sir
,
’
replied
Wilkins
.
‘
That
’
s
his
impudence
—
that
’
s
his
confounded
impudence
,
’
said
Captain
Boldwig
.
‘
He
’
s
only
feigning
to
be
asleep
now
,
’
said
the
captain
,
in
a
high
passion
.
‘
He
’
s
drunk
;
he
’
s
a
drunken
plebeian
.
Wheel
him
away
,
Wilkins
,
wheel
him
away
directly
.
’
‘
Where
shall
I
wheel
him
to
,
sir
?
’
inquired
Wilkins
,
with
great
timidity
.
‘
Wheel
him
to
the
devil
,
’
replied
Captain
Boldwig
.
‘
Very
well
,
sir
,
’
said
Wilkins
.
‘
Stay
,
’
said
the
captain
.
Wilkins
stopped
accordingly
.
‘
Wheel
him
,
’
said
the
captain
—
‘
wheel
him
to
the
pound
;
and
let
us
see
whether
he
calls
himself
Punch
when
he
comes
to
himself
.
He
shall
not
bully
me
—
he
shall
not
bully
me
.
Wheel
him
away
.
’
Away
Mr
.
Pickwick
was
wheeled
in
compliance
with
this
imperious
mandate
;
and
the
great
Captain
Boldwig
,
swelling
with
indignation
,
proceeded
on
his
walk
.
Inexpressible
was
the
astonishment
of
the
little
party
when
they
returned
,
to
find
that
Mr
.
Pickwick
had
disappeared
,
and
taken
the
wheel
-
barrow
with
him
.
It
was
the
most
mysterious
and
unaccountable
thing
that
was
ever
heard
of
For
a
lame
man
to
have
got
upon
his
legs
without
any
previous
notice
,
and
walked
off
,
would
have
been
most
extraordinary
;
but
when
it
came
to
his
wheeling
a
heavy
barrow
before
him
,
by
way
of
amusement
,
it
grew
positively
miraculous
.
