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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 621/859
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The
man
gathered
up
the
money
with
a
trembling
hand
,
and
replied
that
he
didn
’
t
know
yet
;
he
must
go
and
see
where
he
could
move
his
bed
to
.
‘
I
am
afraid
,
sir
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
laying
his
hand
gently
and
compassionately
on
his
arm
—
‘
I
am
afraid
you
will
have
to
live
in
some
noisy
,
crowded
place
.
Now
,
pray
,
consider
this
room
your
own
when
you
want
quiet
,
or
when
any
of
your
friends
come
to
see
you
.
’
‘
Friends
!
’
interposed
the
man
,
in
a
voice
which
rattled
in
his
throat
.
‘
if
I
lay
dead
at
the
bottom
of
the
deepest
mine
in
the
world
;
tight
screwed
down
and
soldered
in
my
coffin
;
rotting
in
the
dark
and
filthy
ditch
that
drags
its
slime
along
,
beneath
the
foundations
of
this
prison
;
I
could
not
be
more
forgotten
or
unheeded
than
I
am
here
.
I
am
a
dead
man
;
dead
to
society
,
without
the
pity
they
bestow
on
those
whose
souls
have
passed
to
judgment
.
Friends
to
see
me
!
My
God
!
I
have
sunk
,
from
the
prime
of
life
into
old
age
,
in
this
place
,
and
there
is
not
one
to
raise
his
hand
above
my
bed
when
I
lie
dead
upon
it
,
and
say
,
"
It
is
a
blessing
he
is
gone
!
"
’
The
excitement
,
which
had
cast
an
unwonted
light
over
the
man
’
s
face
,
while
he
spoke
,
subsided
as
he
concluded
;
and
pressing
his
withered
hands
together
in
a
hasty
and
disordered
manner
,
he
shuffled
from
the
room
.
‘
Rides
rather
rusty
,
’
said
Mr
.
Roker
,
with
a
smile
.
‘
Ah
!
they
’
re
like
the
elephants
.
They
feel
it
now
and
then
,
and
it
makes
’
em
wild
!
’
Having
made
this
deeply
-
sympathising
remark
,
Mr
.
Roker
entered
upon
his
arrangements
with
such
expedition
,
that
in
a
short
time
the
room
was
furnished
with
a
carpet
,
six
chairs
,
a
table
,
a
sofa
bedstead
,
a
tea
-
kettle
,
and
various
small
articles
,
on
hire
,
at
the
very
reasonable
rate
of
seven
-
and
-
twenty
shillings
and
sixpence
per
week
.
‘
Now
,
is
there
anything
more
we
can
do
for
you
?
’
inquired
Mr
.
Roker
,
looking
round
with
great
satisfaction
,
and
gaily
chinking
the
first
week
’
s
hire
in
his
closed
fist
.
‘
Why
,
yes
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
who
had
been
musing
deeply
for
some
time
.
‘
Are
there
any
people
here
who
run
on
errands
,
and
so
forth
?
’
‘
Outside
,
do
you
mean
?
’
inquired
Mr
.
Roker
.
