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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 677/859
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‘
O
’
mine
,
Sir
?
’
exclaimed
Mr
.
Weller
.
‘
You
recollect
the
gentleman
very
well
,
I
dare
say
,
Sam
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
‘
or
else
you
are
more
unmindful
of
your
old
acquaintances
than
I
think
you
are
.
Hush
!
not
a
word
,
Sam
;
not
a
syllable
.
Here
he
is
.
’
As
Mr
.
Pickwick
spoke
,
Jingle
walked
up
.
He
looked
less
miserable
than
before
,
being
clad
in
a
half
-
worn
suit
of
clothes
,
which
,
with
Mr
.
Pickwick
’
s
assistance
,
had
been
released
from
the
pawnbroker
’
s
.
He
wore
clean
linen
too
,
and
had
had
his
hair
cut
.
He
was
very
pale
and
thin
,
however
;
and
as
he
crept
slowly
up
,
leaning
on
a
stick
,
it
was
easy
to
see
that
he
had
suffered
severely
from
illness
and
want
,
and
was
still
very
weak
.
He
took
off
his
hat
as
Mr
.
Pickwick
saluted
him
,
and
seemed
much
humbled
and
abashed
at
the
sight
of
Sam
Weller
.
Following
close
at
his
heels
,
came
Mr
.
Job
Trotter
,
in
the
catalogue
of
whose
vices
,
want
of
faith
and
attachment
to
his
companion
could
at
all
events
find
no
place
.
He
was
still
ragged
and
squalid
,
but
his
face
was
not
quite
so
hollow
as
on
his
first
meeting
with
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
a
few
days
before
.
As
he
took
off
his
hat
to
our
benevolent
old
friend
,
he
murmured
some
broken
expressions
of
gratitude
,
and
muttered
something
about
having
been
saved
from
starving
.
‘
Well
,
well
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
impatiently
interrupting
him
,
‘
you
can
follow
with
Sam
.
I
want
to
speak
to
you
,
Mr
.
Jingle
.
Can
you
walk
without
his
arm
?
’
‘
Certainly
,
sir
—
all
ready
—
not
too
fast
—
legs
shaky
—
head
queer
—
round
and
round
—
earthquaky
sort
of
feeling
—
very
.
’
‘
Here
,
give
me
your
arm
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
No
,
no
,
’
replied
Jingle
;
‘
won
’
t
indeed
—
rather
not
.
’
‘
Nonsense
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
;
‘
lean
upon
me
,
I
desire
,
Sir
.
