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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 763/859
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‘
I
will
drink
my
rum
-
and
-
water
,
’
said
Mr
.
Slurk
,
‘
by
the
kitchen
fire
.
’
So
,
gathering
up
his
hat
and
newspaper
,
he
stalked
solemnly
behind
the
landlord
to
that
humble
apartment
,
and
throwing
himself
on
a
settle
by
the
fireside
,
resumed
his
countenance
of
scorn
,
and
began
to
read
and
drink
in
silent
dignity
.
Now
,
some
demon
of
discord
,
flying
over
the
Saracen
’
s
Head
at
that
moment
,
on
casting
down
his
eyes
in
mere
idle
curiosity
,
happened
to
behold
Slurk
established
comfortably
by
the
kitchen
fire
,
and
Pott
slightly
elevated
with
wine
in
another
room
;
upon
which
the
malicious
demon
,
darting
down
into
the
last
-
mentioned
apartment
with
inconceivable
rapidity
,
passed
at
once
into
the
head
of
Mr
.
Bob
Sawyer
,
and
prompted
him
for
his
(
the
demon
’
s
)
own
evil
purpose
to
speak
as
follows
:
—
‘
I
say
,
we
’
ve
let
the
fire
out
.
It
’
s
uncommonly
cold
after
the
rain
,
isn
’
t
it
?
’
‘
It
really
is
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
shivering
.
‘
It
wouldn
’
t
be
a
bad
notion
to
have
a
cigar
by
the
kitchen
fire
,
would
it
?
’
said
Bob
Sawyer
,
still
prompted
by
the
demon
aforesaid
.
‘
It
would
be
particularly
comfortable
,
I
think
,
’
replied
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
Mr
.
Pott
,
what
do
you
say
?
’
Mr
.
Pott
yielded
a
ready
assent
;
and
all
four
travellers
,
each
with
his
glass
in
his
hand
,
at
once
betook
themselves
to
the
kitchen
,
with
Sam
Weller
heading
the
procession
to
show
them
the
way
.
The
stranger
was
still
reading
;
he
looked
up
and
started
.
Mr
.
Pott
started
.
‘
What
’
s
the
matter
?
’
whispered
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
That
reptile
!
’
replied
Pott
.
