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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 678/859
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’
Seeing
that
he
was
confused
and
agitated
,
and
uncertain
what
to
do
,
Mr
.
Pickwick
cut
the
matter
short
by
drawing
the
invalided
stroller
’
s
arm
through
his
,
and
leading
him
away
,
without
saying
another
word
about
it
.
During
the
whole
of
this
time
the
countenance
of
Mr
.
Samuel
Weller
had
exhibited
an
expression
of
the
most
overwhelming
and
absorbing
astonishment
that
the
imagination
can
portray
.
After
looking
from
Job
to
Jingle
,
and
from
Jingle
to
Job
in
profound
silence
,
he
softly
ejaculated
the
words
,
‘
Well
,
I
AM
damn
’
d
!
’
which
he
repeated
at
least
a
score
of
times
;
after
which
exertion
,
he
appeared
wholly
bereft
of
speech
,
and
again
cast
his
eyes
,
first
upon
the
one
and
then
upon
the
other
,
in
mute
perplexity
and
bewilderment
.
‘
Now
,
Sam
!
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
looking
back
.
‘
I
’
m
a
-
comin
’
,
sir
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Weller
,
mechanically
following
his
master
;
and
still
he
lifted
not
his
eyes
from
Mr
.
Job
Trotter
,
who
walked
at
his
side
in
silence
.
Job
kept
his
eyes
fixed
on
the
ground
for
some
time
.
Sam
,
with
his
glued
to
Job
’
s
countenance
,
ran
up
against
the
people
who
were
walking
about
,
and
fell
over
little
children
,
and
stumbled
against
steps
and
railings
,
without
appearing
at
all
sensible
of
it
,
until
Job
,
looking
stealthily
up
,
said
—
‘
How
do
you
do
,
Mr
.
Weller
?
’
‘
It
IS
him
!
’
exclaimed
Sam
;
and
having
established
Job
’
s
identity
beyond
all
doubt
,
he
smote
his
leg
,
and
vented
his
feelings
in
a
long
,
shrill
whistle
.
‘
Things
has
altered
with
me
,
sir
,
’
said
Job
.
‘
I
should
think
they
had
,
’
exclaimed
Mr
.
Weller
,
surveying
his
companion
’
s
rags
with
undisguised
wonder
.
‘
This
is
rayther
a
change
for
the
worse
,
Mr
.
Trotter
,
as
the
gen
’
l
’
m
’
n
said
,
wen
he
got
two
doubtful
shillin
’
s
and
sixpenn
’
orth
o
’
pocket
-
pieces
for
a
good
half
-
crown
.
’
‘
It
is
indeed
,
’
replied
Job
,
shaking
his
head
.
‘
There
is
no
deception
now
,
Mr
.
Weller
.
Tears
,
’
said
Job
,
with
a
look
of
momentary
slyness
—
‘
tears
are
not
the
only
proofs
of
distress
,
nor
the
best
ones
.
’
