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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Лавка древностей
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- Стр. 380/459
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‘
I
believe
it
!
’
exclaimed
the
poor
woman
,
‘
I
that
never
knew
you
tell
a
lie
,
or
do
a
bad
action
from
your
cradle
—
that
have
never
had
a
moment
’
s
sorrow
on
your
account
,
except
it
was
the
poor
meals
that
you
have
taken
with
such
good
humour
and
content
,
that
I
forgot
how
little
there
was
,
when
I
thought
how
kind
and
thoughtful
you
were
,
though
you
were
but
a
child
!
—
I
believe
it
of
the
son
that
’
s
been
a
comfort
to
me
from
the
hour
of
his
birth
until
this
time
,
and
that
I
never
laid
down
one
night
in
anger
with
!
I
believe
it
of
you
Kit
!
—
’
‘
Why
then
,
thank
God
!
’
said
Kit
,
clutching
the
bars
with
an
earnestness
that
shook
them
,
‘
and
I
can
bear
it
,
mother
!
Come
what
may
,
I
shall
always
have
one
drop
of
happiness
in
my
heart
when
I
think
that
you
said
that
.
’
At
this
the
poor
woman
fell
a
-
crying
again
,
and
Barbara
’
s
mother
too
.
And
little
Jacob
,
whose
disjointed
thoughts
had
by
this
time
resolved
themselves
into
a
pretty
distinct
impression
that
Kit
couldn
’
t
go
out
for
a
walk
if
he
wanted
,
and
that
there
were
no
birds
,
lions
,
tigers
or
other
natural
curiosities
behind
those
bars
—
nothing
indeed
,
but
a
caged
brother
—
added
his
tears
to
theirs
with
as
little
noise
as
possible
.
Kit
’
s
mother
,
drying
her
eyes
(
and
moistening
them
,
poor
soul
,
more
than
she
dried
them
)
,
now
took
from
the
ground
a
small
basket
,
and
submissively
addressed
herself
to
the
turnkey
,
saying
,
would
he
please
to
listen
to
her
for
a
minute
?
The
turnkey
,
being
in
the
very
crisis
and
passion
of
a
joke
,
motioned
to
her
with
his
hand
to
keep
silent
one
minute
longer
,
for
her
life
.
Nor
did
he
remove
his
hand
into
its
former
posture
,
but
kept
it
in
the
same
warning
attitude
until
he
had
finished
the
paragraph
,
when
he
paused
for
a
few
seconds
,
with
a
smile
upon
his
face
,
as
who
should
say
‘
this
editor
is
a
comical
blade
—
a
funny
dog
,
’
and
then
asked
her
what
she
wanted
.
‘
I
have
brought
him
a
little
something
to
eat
,
’
said
the
good
woman
.
‘
If
you
please
,
Sir
,
might
he
have
it
?
’
‘
Yes
,
—
he
may
have
it
.
There
’
s
no
rule
against
that
.
Give
it
to
me
when
you
go
,
and
I
’
ll
take
care
he
has
it
.
’
‘
No
,
but
if
you
please
sir
—
don
’
t
be
angry
with
me
sir
—
I
am
his
mother
,
and
you
had
a
mother
once
—
if
I
might
only
see
him
eat
a
little
bit
,
I
should
go
away
,
so
much
more
satisfied
that
he
was
all
comfortable
.
’
And
again
the
tears
of
Kit
’
s
mother
burst
forth
,
and
of
Barbara
’
s
mother
,
and
of
little
Jacob
.
As
to
the
baby
,
it
was
crowing
and
laughing
with
its
might
—
under
the
idea
,
apparently
,
that
the
whole
scene
had
been
invented
and
got
up
for
its
particular
satisfaction
.
The
turnkey
looked
as
if
he
thought
the
request
a
strange
one
and
rather
out
of
the
common
way
,
but
nevertheless
he
laid
down
his
paper
,
and
coming
round
where
Kit
’
s
mother
stood
,
took
the
basket
from
her
,
and
after
inspecting
its
contents
,
handed
it
to
Kit
,
and
went
back
to
his
place
.
It
may
be
easily
conceived
that
the
prisoner
had
no
great
appetite
,
but
he
sat
down
on
the
ground
,
and
ate
as
hard
as
he
could
,
while
,
at
every
morsel
he
put
into
his
mouth
,
his
mother
sobbed
and
wept
afresh
,
though
with
a
softened
grief
that
bespoke
the
satisfaction
the
sight
afforded
her
.
