-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джордж Элиот
-
- Мидлмарч
-
- Стр. 224/572
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
We
are
all
of
us
imaginative
in
some
form
or
other
,
for
images
are
the
brood
of
desire
;
and
poor
old
Featherstone
,
who
laughed
much
at
the
way
in
which
others
cajoled
themselves
,
did
not
escape
the
fellowship
of
illusion
.
In
writing
the
programme
for
his
burial
he
certainly
did
not
make
clear
to
himself
that
his
pleasure
in
the
little
drama
of
which
it
formed
a
part
was
confined
to
anticipation
.
In
chuckling
over
the
vexations
he
could
inflict
by
the
rigid
clutch
of
his
dead
hand
,
he
inevitably
mingled
his
consciousness
with
that
livid
stagnant
presence
,
and
so
far
as
he
was
preoccupied
with
a
future
life
,
it
was
with
one
of
gratification
inside
his
coffin
.
Thus
old
Featherstone
was
imaginative
,
after
his
fashion
.
However
,
the
three
mourning
-
coaches
were
filled
according
to
the
written
orders
of
the
deceased
.
There
were
pall
-
bearers
on
horseback
,
with
the
richest
scarfs
and
hatbands
,
and
even
the
under
-
bearers
had
trappings
of
woe
which
were
of
a
good
well
-
priced
quality
.
The
black
procession
,
when
dismounted
,
looked
the
larger
for
the
smallness
of
the
churchyard
;
the
heavy
human
faces
and
the
black
draperies
shivering
in
the
wind
seemed
to
tell
of
a
world
strangely
incongruous
with
the
lightly
dropping
blossoms
and
the
gleams
of
sunshine
on
the
daisies
.
The
clergyman
who
met
the
procession
was
Mr
.
Cadwallader
—
also
according
to
the
request
of
Peter
Featherstone
,
prompted
as
usual
by
peculiar
reasons
.
Having
a
contempt
for
curates
,
whom
he
always
called
understrappers
,
he
was
resolved
to
be
buried
by
a
beneficed
clergyman
.
Mr
.
Casaubon
was
out
of
the
question
,
not
merely
because
he
declined
duty
of
this
sort
,
but
because
Featherstone
had
an
especial
dislike
to
him
as
the
rector
of
his
own
parish
,
who
had
a
lien
on
the
land
in
the
shape
of
tithe
,
also
as
the
deliverer
of
morning
sermons
,
which
the
old
man
,
being
in
his
pew
and
not
at
all
sleepy
,
had
been
obliged
to
sit
through
with
an
inward
snarl
.
He
had
an
objection
to
a
parson
stuck
up
above
his
head
preaching
to
him
.
But
his
relations
with
Mr
.
Cadwallader
had
been
of
a
different
kind
:
the
trout
-
stream
which
ran
through
Mr
.
Casaubon
’
s
land
took
its
course
through
Featherstone
’
s
also
,
so
that
Mr
.
Cadwallader
was
a
parson
who
had
had
to
ask
a
favor
instead
of
preaching
.
Moreover
,
he
was
one
of
the
high
gentry
living
four
miles
away
from
Lowick
,
and
was
thus
exalted
to
an
equal
sky
with
the
sheriff
of
the
county
and
other
dignities
vaguely
regarded
as
necessary
to
the
system
of
things
.
There
would
be
a
satisfaction
in
being
buried
by
Mr
.
Cadwallader
,
whose
very
name
offered
a
fine
opportunity
for
pronouncing
wrongly
if
you
liked
.
This
distinction
conferred
on
the
Rector
of
Tipton
and
Freshitt
was
the
reason
why
Mrs
.
Cadwallader
made
one
of
the
group
that
watched
old
Featherstone
’
s
funeral
from
an
upper
window
of
the
manor
.
She
was
not
fond
of
visiting
that
house
,
but
she
liked
,
as
she
said
,
to
see
collections
of
strange
animals
such
as
there
would
be
at
this
funeral
;
and
she
had
persuaded
Sir
James
and
the
young
Lady
Chettam
to
drive
the
Rector
and
herself
to
Lowick
in
order
that
the
visit
might
be
altogether
pleasant
.
"
I
will
go
anywhere
with
you
,
Mrs
.
Cadwallader
,
"
Celia
had
said
;
"
but
I
don
’
t
like
funerals
.
"
"
Oh
,
my
dear
,
when
you
have
a
clergyman
in
your
family
you
must
accommodate
your
tastes
:
I
did
that
very
early
.
When
I
married
Humphrey
I
made
up
my
mind
to
like
sermons
,
and
I
set
out
by
liking
the
end
very
much
.
That
soon
spread
to
the
middle
and
the
beginning
,
because
I
couldn
’
t
have
the
end
without
them
.
"
"
No
,
to
be
sure
not
,
"
said
the
Dowager
Lady
Chettam
,
with
stately
emphasis
.
The
upper
window
from
which
the
funeral
could
be
well
seen
was
in
the
room
occupied
by
Mr
.
Casaubon
when
he
had
been
forbidden
to
work
;
but
he
had
resumed
nearly
his
habitual
style
of
life
now
in
spite
of
warnings
and
prescriptions
,
and
after
politely
welcoming
Mrs
.
Cadwallader
had
slipped
again
into
the
library
to
chew
a
cud
of
erudite
mistake
about
Cush
and
Mizraim
.
But
for
her
visitors
Dorothea
too
might
have
been
shut
up
in
the
library
,
and
would
not
have
witnessed
this
scene
of
old
Featherstone
’
s
funeral
,
which
,
aloof
as
it
seemed
to
be
from
the
tenor
of
her
life
,
always
afterwards
came
back
to
her
at
the
touch
of
certain
sensitive
points
in
memory
,
just
as
the
vision
of
St
.
Peter
’
s
at
Rome
was
inwoven
with
moods
of
despondency
.
