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- Шарлотта Бронте
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- Джэйн Эйр
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"
Are
you
up
?
"
asked
the
voice
I
expected
to
hear
,
viz
.
,
my
master
's
.
"
Yes
,
sir
.
"
"
And
dressed
?
"
"
Yes
.
"
"
Come
out
,
then
,
quietly
.
"
I
obeyed
.
Mr.
Rochester
stood
in
the
gallery
holding
a
light
.
"
I
want
you
,
"
he
said
:
"
come
this
way
:
take
your
time
,
and
make
no
noise
.
"
My
slippers
were
thin
:
I
could
walk
the
matted
floor
as
softly
as
a
cat
.
He
glided
up
the
gallery
and
up
the
stairs
,
and
stopped
in
the
dark
,
low
corridor
of
the
fateful
third
storey
:
I
had
followed
and
stood
at
his
side
.
"
Have
you
a
sponge
in
your
room
?
"
he
asked
in
a
whisper
.
"
Yes
,
sir
.
"
