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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 413/859
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‘
YOU
in
silk
stockings
!
’
exclaimed
Mr
.
Tupman
jocosely
.
‘
And
why
not
,
sir
—
why
not
?
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
turning
warmly
upon
him
.
‘
Oh
,
of
course
there
is
no
reason
why
you
shouldn
’
t
wear
them
,
’
responded
Mr
.
Tupman
.
‘
I
imagine
not
,
sir
—
I
imagine
not
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
in
a
very
peremptory
tone
.
Mr
.
Tupman
had
contemplated
a
laugh
,
but
he
found
it
was
a
serious
matter
;
so
he
looked
grave
,
and
said
they
were
a
pretty
pattern
.
‘
I
hope
they
are
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
fixing
his
eyes
upon
his
friend
.
‘
You
see
nothing
extraordinary
in
the
stockings
,
AS
stockings
,
I
trust
,
Sir
?
’
‘
Certainly
not
.
Oh
,
certainly
not
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Tupman
.
He
walked
away
;
and
Mr
.
Pickwick
’
s
countenance
resumed
its
customary
benign
expression
.
‘
We
are
all
ready
,
I
believe
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
who
was
stationed
with
the
old
lady
at
the
top
of
the
dance
,
and
had
already
made
four
false
starts
,
in
his
excessive
anxiety
to
commence
.
‘
Then
begin
at
once
,
’
said
Wardle
.
‘
Now
!
’
Up
struck
the
two
fiddles
and
the
one
harp
,
and
off
went
Mr
.
Pickwick
into
hands
across
,
when
there
was
a
general
clapping
of
hands
,
and
a
cry
of
‘
Stop
,
stop
!
’
‘
What
’
s
the
matter
?
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
who
was
only
brought
to
,
by
the
fiddles
and
harp
desisting
,
and
could
have
been
stopped
by
no
other
earthly
power
,
if
the
house
had
been
on
fire
.
‘
Where
’
s
Arabella
Allen
?
’
cried
a
dozen
voices
.
