-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Чарльз Диккенс
-
- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
-
- Стр. 298/859
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
‘
By
Jove
!
’
said
the
chairman
,
whispering
across
the
table
to
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
‘
you
have
hit
upon
something
that
one
of
us
,
at
least
,
would
talk
upon
for
ever
.
You
’
ll
draw
old
Jack
Bamber
out
;
he
was
never
heard
to
talk
about
anything
else
but
the
inns
,
and
he
has
lived
alone
in
them
till
he
’
s
half
crazy
’
The
individual
to
whom
Lowten
alluded
,
was
a
little
,
yellow
,
high
-
shouldered
man
,
whose
countenance
,
from
his
habit
of
stooping
forward
when
silent
,
Mr
.
Pickwick
had
not
observed
before
.
He
wondered
,
though
,
when
the
old
man
raised
his
shrivelled
face
,
and
bent
his
gray
eye
upon
him
,
with
a
keen
inquiring
look
,
that
such
remarkable
features
could
have
escaped
his
attention
for
a
moment
.
There
was
a
fixed
grim
smile
perpetually
on
his
countenance
;
he
leaned
his
chin
on
a
long
,
skinny
hand
,
with
nails
of
extraordinary
length
;
and
as
he
inclined
his
head
to
one
side
,
and
looked
keenly
out
from
beneath
his
ragged
gray
eyebrows
,
there
was
a
strange
,
wild
slyness
in
his
leer
,
quite
repulsive
to
behold
.
This
was
the
figure
that
now
started
forward
,
and
burst
into
an
animated
torrent
of
words
.
As
this
chapter
has
been
a
long
one
,
however
,
and
as
the
old
man
was
a
remarkable
personage
,
it
will
be
more
respectful
to
him
,
and
more
convenient
to
us
,
to
let
him
speak
for
himself
in
a
fresh
one
.
Aha
!
’
said
the
old
man
,
a
brief
description
of
whose
manner
and
appearance
concluded
the
last
chapter
,
‘
aha
!
who
was
talking
about
the
inns
?
’
‘
I
was
,
Sir
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Pickwick
—
‘
I
was
observing
what
singular
old
places
they
are
.
’
‘
YOU
!
’
said
the
old
man
contemptuously
.
‘
What
do
YOU
know
of
the
time
when
young
men
shut
themselves
up
in
those
lonely
rooms
,
and
read
and
read
,
hour
after
hour
,
and
night
after
night
,
till
their
reason
wandered
beneath
their
midnight
studies
;
till
their
mental
powers
were
exhausted
;
till
morning
’
s
light
brought
no
freshness
or
health
to
them
;
and
they
sank
beneath
the
unnatural
devotion
of
their
youthful
energies
to
their
dry
old
books
?
Coming
down
to
a
later
time
,
and
a
very
different
day
,
what
do
YOU
know
of
the
gradual
sinking
beneath
consumption
,
or
the
quick
wasting
of
fever
—
the
grand
results
of
"
life
"
and
dissipation
—
which
men
have
undergone
in
these
same
rooms
?
How
many
vain
pleaders
for
mercy
,
do
you
think
,
have
turned
away
heart
-
sick
from
the
lawyer
’
s
office
,
to
find
a
resting
-
place
in
the
Thames
,
or
a
refuge
in
the
jail
?
They
are
no
ordinary
houses
,
those
.
There
is
not
a
panel
in
the
old
wainscotting
,
but
what
,
if
it
were
endowed
with
the
powers
of
speech
and
memory
,
could
start
from
the
wall
,
and
tell
its
tale
of
horror
—
the
romance
of
life
,
Sir
,
the
romance
of
life
!
Common
-
place
as
they
may
seem
now
,
I
tell
you
they
are
strange
old
places
,
and
I
would
rather
hear
many
a
legend
with
a
terrific
-
sounding
name
,
than
the
true
history
of
one
old
set
of
chambers
.
’
There
was
something
so
odd
in
the
old
man
’
s
sudden
energy
,
and
the
subject
which
had
called
it
forth
,
that
Mr
.
Pickwick
was
prepared
with
no
observation
in
reply
;
and
the
old
man
checking
his
impetuosity
,
and
resuming
the
leer
,
which
had
disappeared
during
his
previous
excitement
,
said
—
‘
Look
at
them
in
another
light
—
their
most
common
-
place
and
least
romantic
.
What
fine
places
of
slow
torture
they
are
!
Think
of
the
needy
man
who
has
spent
his
all
,
beggared
himself
,
and
pinched
his
friends
,
to
enter
the
profession
,
which
is
destined
never
to
yield
him
a
morsel
of
bread
.
The
waiting
—
the
hope
—
the
disappointment
—
the
fear
—
the
misery
—
the
poverty
—
the
blight
on
his
hopes
,
and
end
to
his
career
—
the
suicide
perhaps
,
or
the
shabby
,
slipshod
drunkard
.
Am
I
not
right
about
them
?
’
And
the
old
man
rubbed
his
hands
,
and
leered
as
if
in
delight
at
having
found
another
point
of
view
in
which
to
place
his
favourite
subject
.
