-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Уильям Тэккерей
-
- Ярмарка тщеславия
-
- Стр. 426/431
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
Listen
to
me
,
Amelia
,
"
said
Becky
,
marching
up
and
down
the
room
before
the
other
and
surveying
her
with
a
sort
of
contemptuous
kindness
.
"
I
want
to
talk
to
you
.
You
must
go
away
from
here
and
from
the
impertinences
of
these
men
.
I
wo
n't
have
you
harassed
by
them
:
and
they
will
insult
you
if
you
stay
.
I
tell
you
they
are
rascals
:
men
fit
to
send
to
the
hulks
.
Never
mind
how
I
know
them
.
I
know
everybody
.
Jos
ca
n't
protect
you
;
he
is
too
weak
and
wants
a
protector
himself
.
You
are
no
more
fit
to
live
in
the
world
than
a
baby
in
arms
.
You
must
marry
,
or
you
and
your
precious
boy
will
go
to
ruin
.
You
must
have
a
husband
,
you
fool
;
and
one
of
the
best
gentlemen
I
ever
saw
has
offered
you
a
hundred
times
,
and
you
have
rejected
him
,
you
silly
,
heartless
,
ungrateful
little
creature
!
"
"
I
tried
--
I
tried
my
best
,
indeed
I
did
,
Rebecca
,
"
said
Amelia
deprecatingly
,
"
but
I
could
n't
forget
--
"
;
and
she
finished
the
sentence
by
looking
up
at
the
portrait
.
"
Could
n't
forget
HIM
!
"
cried
out
Becky
,
"
that
selfish
humbug
,
that
low-bred
cockney
dandy
,
that
padded
booby
,
who
had
neither
wit
,
nor
manners
,
nor
heart
,
and
was
no
more
to
be
compared
to
your
friend
with
the
bamboo
cane
than
you
are
to
Queen
Elizabeth
.
Why
,
the
man
was
weary
of
you
,
and
would
have
jilted
you
,
but
that
Dobbin
forced
him
to
keep
his
word
.
He
owned
it
to
me
.
He
never
cared
for
you
.
He
used
to
sneer
about
you
to
me
,
time
after
time
,
and
made
love
to
me
the
week
after
he
married
you
.
"
"
It
's
false
!
It
's
false
!
Rebecca
,
"
cried
out
Amelia
,
starting
up
.
"
Look
there
,
you
fool
,
"
Becky
said
,
still
with
provoking
good
humour
,
and
taking
a
little
paper
out
of
her
belt
,
she
opened
it
and
flung
it
into
Emmy
's
lap
.
"
You
know
his
handwriting
.
He
wrote
that
to
me
--
wanted
me
to
run
away
with
him
--
gave
it
me
under
your
nose
,
the
day
before
he
was
shot
--
and
served
him
right
!
"
Becky
repeated
.
Emmy
did
not
hear
her
;
she
was
looking
at
the
letter
.
It
was
that
which
George
had
put
into
the
bouquet
and
given
to
Becky
on
the
night
of
the
Duchess
of
Richmond
's
ball
.
It
was
as
she
said
:
the
foolish
young
man
had
asked
her
to
fly
.
Emmy
's
head
sank
down
,
and
for
almost
the
last
time
in
which
she
shall
be
called
upon
to
weep
in
this
history
,
she
commenced
that
work
.
Her
head
fell
to
her
bosom
,
and
her
hands
went
up
to
her
eyes
;
and
there
for
a
while
,
she
gave
way
to
her
emotions
,
as
Becky
stood
on
and
regarded
her
.
Who
shall
analyse
those
tears
and
say
whether
they
were
sweet
or
bitter
?
Was
she
most
grieved
because
the
idol
of
her
life
was
tumbled
down
and
shivered
at
her
feet
,
or
indignant
that
her
love
had
been
so
despised
,
or
glad
because
the
barrier
was
removed
which
modesty
had
placed
between
her
and
a
new
,
a
real
affection
?
"
There
is
nothing
to
forbid
me
now
,
"
she
thought
.
"
I
may
love
him
with
all
my
heart
now
.
Oh
,
I
will
,
I
will
,
if
he
will
but
let
me
and
forgive
me
.
"
I
believe
it
was
this
feeling
rushed
over
all
the
others
which
agitated
that
gentle
little
bosom
.
Indeed
,
she
did
not
cry
so
much
as
Becky
expected
--
the
other
soothed
and
kissed
her
--
a
rare
mark
of
sympathy
with
Mrs.
Becky
.
She
treated
Emmy
like
a
child
and
patted
her
head
.
"
And
now
let
us
get
pen
and
ink
and
write
to
him
to
come
this
minute
,
"
she
said
.
