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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 606/859
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Now
,
although
the
warder
’
s
room
was
a
very
uncomfortable
one
(
being
,
in
every
point
of
decoration
and
convenience
,
several
hundred
degrees
inferior
to
the
common
infirmary
of
a
county
jail
)
,
it
had
at
present
the
merit
of
being
wholly
deserted
save
by
Mr
.
Pickwick
himself
.
So
,
he
sat
down
at
the
foot
of
his
little
iron
bedstead
,
and
began
to
wonder
how
much
a
year
the
warder
made
out
of
the
dirty
room
.
Having
satisfied
himself
,
by
mathematical
calculation
,
that
the
apartment
was
about
equal
in
annual
value
to
the
freehold
of
a
small
street
in
the
suburbs
of
London
,
he
took
to
wondering
what
possible
temptation
could
have
induced
a
dingy
-
looking
fly
that
was
crawling
over
his
pantaloons
,
to
come
into
a
close
prison
,
when
he
had
the
choice
of
so
many
airy
situations
—
a
course
of
meditation
which
led
him
to
the
irresistible
conclusion
that
the
insect
was
insane
.
After
settling
this
point
,
he
began
to
be
conscious
that
he
was
getting
sleepy
;
whereupon
he
took
his
nightcap
out
of
the
pocket
in
which
he
had
had
the
precaution
to
stow
it
in
the
morning
,
and
,
leisurely
undressing
himself
,
got
into
bed
and
fell
asleep
.
‘
Bravo
!
Heel
over
toe
—
cut
and
shuffle
—
pay
away
at
it
,
Zephyr
!
I
’
m
smothered
if
the
opera
house
isn
’
t
your
proper
hemisphere
.
Keep
it
up
!
Hooray
!
’
These
expressions
,
delivered
in
a
most
boisterous
tone
,
and
accompanied
with
loud
peals
of
laughter
,
roused
Mr
.
Pickwick
from
one
of
those
sound
slumbers
which
,
lasting
in
reality
some
half
-
hour
,
seem
to
the
sleeper
to
have
been
protracted
for
three
weeks
or
a
month
.
The
voice
had
no
sooner
ceased
than
the
room
was
shaken
with
such
violence
that
the
windows
rattled
in
their
frames
,
and
the
bedsteads
trembled
again
.
Mr
.
Pickwick
started
up
,
and
remained
for
some
minutes
fixed
in
mute
astonishment
at
the
scene
before
him
.
On
the
floor
of
the
room
,
a
man
in
a
broad
-
skirted
green
coat
,
with
corduroy
knee
-
smalls
and
gray
cotton
stockings
,
was
performing
the
most
popular
steps
of
a
hornpipe
,
with
a
slang
and
burlesque
caricature
of
grace
and
lightness
,
which
,
combined
with
the
very
appropriate
character
of
his
costume
,
was
inexpressibly
absurd
.
Another
man
,
evidently
very
drunk
,
who
had
probably
been
tumbled
into
bed
by
his
companions
,
was
sitting
up
between
the
sheets
,
warbling
as
much
as
he
could
recollect
of
a
comic
song
,
with
the
most
intensely
sentimental
feeling
and
expression
;
while
a
third
,
seated
on
one
of
the
bedsteads
,
was
applauding
both
performers
with
the
air
of
a
profound
connoisseur
,
and
encouraging
them
by
such
ebullitions
of
feeling
as
had
already
roused
Mr
.
Pickwick
from
his
sleep
.
This
last
man
was
an
admirable
specimen
of
a
class
of
gentry
which
never
can
be
seen
in
full
perfection
but
in
such
places
—
they
may
be
met
with
,
in
an
imperfect
state
,
occasionally
about
stable
-
yards
and
Public
-
houses
;
but
they
never
attain
their
full
bloom
except
in
these
hot
-
beds
,
which
would
almost
seem
to
be
considerately
provided
by
the
legislature
for
the
sole
purpose
of
rearing
them
.
He
was
a
tall
fellow
,
with
an
olive
complexion
,
long
dark
hair
,
and
very
thick
bushy
whiskers
meeting
under
his
chin
.
He
wore
no
neckerchief
,
as
he
had
been
playing
rackets
all
day
,
and
his
Open
shirt
collar
displayed
their
full
luxuriance
.
On
his
head
he
wore
one
of
the
common
eighteenpenny
French
skull
-
caps
,
with
a
gaudy
tassel
dangling
therefrom
,
very
happily
in
keeping
with
a
common
fustian
coat
.
His
legs
,
which
,
being
long
,
were
afflicted
with
weakness
,
graced
a
pair
of
Oxford
-
mixture
trousers
,
made
to
show
the
full
symmetry
of
those
limbs
.
Being
somewhat
negligently
braced
,
however
,
and
,
moreover
,
but
imperfectly
buttoned
,
they
fell
in
a
series
of
not
the
most
graceful
folds
over
a
pair
of
shoes
sufficiently
down
at
heel
to
display
a
pair
of
very
soiled
white
stockings
.
There
was
a
rakish
,
vagabond
smartness
,
and
a
kind
of
boastful
rascality
,
about
the
whole
man
,
that
was
worth
a
mine
of
gold
.
This
figure
was
the
first
to
perceive
that
Mr
.
Pickwick
was
looking
on
;
upon
which
he
winked
to
the
Zephyr
,
and
entreated
him
,
with
mock
gravity
,
not
to
wake
the
gentleman
.
‘
Why
,
bless
the
gentleman
’
s
honest
heart
and
soul
!
’
said
the
Zephyr
,
turning
round
and
affecting
the
extremity
of
surprise
;
‘
the
gentleman
is
awake
.
Hem
,
Shakespeare
!
How
do
you
do
,
Sir
?
How
is
Mary
and
Sarah
,
sir
?
and
the
dear
old
lady
at
home
,
Sir
?
Will
you
have
the
kindness
to
put
my
compliments
into
the
first
little
parcel
you
’
re
sending
that
way
,
sir
,
and
say
that
I
would
have
sent
’
em
before
,
only
I
was
afraid
they
might
be
broken
in
the
wagon
,
sir
?
’
‘
Don
’
t
overwhelm
the
gentlemen
with
ordinary
civilities
when
you
see
he
’
s
anxious
to
have
something
to
drink
,
’
said
the
gentleman
with
the
whiskers
,
with
a
jocose
air
.
