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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 376/859
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‘
It
’
s
very
probable
,
sir
,
that
you
won
’
t
be
wanted
upstairs
for
several
minutes
,
Sir
,
because
MY
master
is
at
this
moment
particularly
engaged
in
settling
the
hash
of
YOUR
master
,
Sir
;
and
therefore
you
’
ll
have
leisure
,
Sir
,
for
a
little
private
talk
with
me
,
Sir
.
Do
you
understand
that
,
Sir
?
’
Mr
.
Muzzle
again
paused
for
a
reply
;
and
again
Mr
.
Trotter
disappointed
him
.
‘
Well
,
then
,
’
said
Mr
.
Muzzle
,
‘
I
’
m
very
sorry
to
have
to
explain
myself
before
ladies
,
but
the
urgency
of
the
case
will
be
my
excuse
.
The
back
kitchen
’
s
empty
,
Sir
.
If
you
will
step
in
there
,
Sir
,
Mr
.
Weller
will
see
fair
,
and
we
can
have
mutual
satisfaction
till
the
bell
rings
.
Follow
me
,
Sir
!
’
As
Mr
.
Muzzle
uttered
these
words
,
he
took
a
step
or
two
towards
the
door
;
and
,
by
way
of
saving
time
,
began
to
pull
off
his
coat
as
he
walked
along
.
Now
,
the
cook
no
sooner
heard
the
concluding
words
of
this
desperate
challenge
,
and
saw
Mr
.
Muzzle
about
to
put
it
into
execution
,
than
she
uttered
a
loud
and
piercing
shriek
;
and
rushing
on
Mr
.
Job
Trotter
,
who
rose
from
his
chair
on
the
instant
,
tore
and
buffeted
his
large
flat
face
,
with
an
energy
peculiar
to
excited
females
,
and
twining
her
hands
in
his
long
black
hair
,
tore
therefrom
about
enough
to
make
five
or
six
dozen
of
the
very
largest
-
sized
mourning
-
rings
.
Having
accomplished
this
feat
with
all
the
ardour
which
her
devoted
love
for
Mr
.
Muzzle
inspired
,
she
staggered
back
;
and
being
a
lady
of
very
excitable
and
delicate
feelings
,
she
instantly
fell
under
the
dresser
,
and
fainted
away
.
At
this
moment
,
the
bell
rang
.
‘
That
’
s
for
you
,
Job
Trotter
,
’
said
Sam
;
and
before
Mr
.
Trotter
could
offer
remonstrance
or
reply
—
even
before
he
had
time
to
stanch
the
wounds
inflicted
by
the
insensible
lady
—
Sam
seized
one
arm
and
Mr
.
Muzzle
the
other
,
and
one
pulling
before
,
and
the
other
pushing
behind
,
they
conveyed
him
upstairs
,
and
into
the
parlour
.
It
was
an
impressive
tableau
.
Alfred
Jingle
,
Esquire
,
alias
Captain
Fitz
–
Marshall
,
was
standing
near
the
door
with
his
hat
in
his
hand
,
and
a
smile
on
his
face
,
wholly
unmoved
by
his
very
unpleasant
situation
.
Confronting
him
,
stood
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
who
had
evidently
been
inculcating
some
high
moral
lesson
;
for
his
left
hand
was
beneath
his
coat
tail
,
and
his
right
extended
in
air
,
as
was
his
wont
when
delivering
himself
of
an
impressive
address
.
At
a
little
distance
,
stood
Mr
.
Tupman
with
indignant
countenance
,
carefully
held
back
by
his
two
younger
friends
;
at
the
farther
end
of
the
room
were
Mr
.
Nupkins
,
Mrs
.
Nupkins
,
and
Miss
Nupkins
,
gloomily
grand
and
savagely
vexed
.
‘
What
prevents
me
,
’
said
Mr
.
Nupkins
,
with
magisterial
dignity
,
as
Job
was
brought
in
—
‘
what
prevents
me
from
detaining
these
men
as
rogues
and
impostors
?
It
is
a
foolish
mercy
.
What
prevents
me
?
’
