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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Стр. 532/859
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‘
Beg
your
pardon
,
Sir
,
’
said
Mrs
.
Craddock
,
the
landlady
,
peeping
in
;
‘
but
did
you
want
anything
more
,
sir
?
’
‘
Nothing
more
,
ma
’
am
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
My
young
girl
is
gone
to
bed
,
Sir
,
’
said
Mrs
.
Craddock
;
‘
and
Mr
.
Dowler
is
good
enough
to
say
that
he
’
ll
sit
up
for
Mrs
.
Dowler
,
as
the
party
isn
’
t
expected
to
be
over
till
late
;
so
I
was
thinking
that
if
you
wanted
nothing
more
,
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
I
would
go
to
bed
.
’
‘
By
all
means
,
ma
’
am
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
Wish
you
good
-
night
,
Sir
,
’
said
Mrs
.
Craddock
.
‘
Good
-
night
,
ma
’
am
,
’
rejoined
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
Mrs
.
Craddock
closed
the
door
,
and
Mr
.
Pickwick
resumed
his
writing
.
In
half
an
hour
’
s
time
the
entries
were
concluded
.
Mr
.
Pickwick
carefully
rubbed
the
last
page
on
the
blotting
-
paper
,
shut
up
the
book
,
wiped
his
pen
on
the
bottom
of
the
inside
of
his
coat
tail
,
and
opened
the
drawer
of
the
inkstand
to
put
it
carefully
away
.
There
were
a
couple
of
sheets
of
writing
-
paper
,
pretty
closely
written
over
,
in
the
inkstand
drawer
,
and
they
were
folded
so
,
that
the
title
,
which
was
in
a
good
round
hand
,
was
fully
disclosed
to
him
.
Seeing
from
this
,
that
it
was
no
private
document
;
and
as
it
seemed
to
relate
to
Bath
,
and
was
very
short
:
Mr
.
Pick
-
wick
unfolded
it
,
lighted
his
bedroom
candle
that
it
might
burn
up
well
by
the
time
he
finished
;
and
drawing
his
chair
nearer
the
fire
,
read
as
follows
—
THE
TRUE
LEGEND
OF
PRINCE
BLADUD
‘
Less
than
two
hundred
years
ago
,
on
one
of
the
public
baths
in
this
city
,
there
appeared
an
inscription
in
honour
of
its
mighty
founder
,
the
renowned
Prince
Bladud
.
That
inscription
is
now
erased
.
‘
For
many
hundred
years
before
that
time
,
there
had
been
handed
down
,
from
age
to
age
,
an
old
legend
,
that
the
illustrious
prince
being
afflicted
with
leprosy
,
on
his
return
from
reaping
a
rich
harvest
of
knowledge
in
Athens
,
shunned
the
court
of
his
royal
father
,
and
consorted
moodily
with
husbandman
and
pigs
.
Among
the
herd
(
so
said
the
legend
)
was
a
pig
of
grave
and
solemn
countenance
,
with
whom
the
prince
had
a
fellow
-
feeling
—
for
he
too
was
wise
—
a
pig
of
thoughtful
and
reserved
demeanour
;
an
animal
superior
to
his
fellows
,
whose
grunt
was
terrible
,
and
whose
bite
was
sharp
.
The
young
prince
sighed
deeply
as
he
looked
upon
the
countenance
of
the
majestic
swine
;
he
thought
of
his
royal
father
,
and
his
eyes
were
bedewed
with
tears
.
