Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

Involving another Journey, and an Antiquarian Discovery; Recording Mr. Pickwick’s Determination to b

           Allthiswasfoodformysecretmirth,andIlaughedbehindthewhitehandkerchiefwhichIhelduptomyface,aswerodehome,tillthetearsCameintomyeyes.

           ‘ButthoughIhadcarriedmyobjectandkilledher,Iwasrestlessanddisturbed,andIfeltthatbeforelongmysecretmustbeknown.Icouldnothidethewildmirthandjoywhichboiledwithinme,andmademewhenIwasalone,athome,jumpupandbeatmyhandstogether,anddanceroundandround,androaraloud.WhenIwentout,andsawthebusycrowdshurryingaboutthestreets;ortothetheatre,andheardthesoundofmusic,andbeheldthepeopledancing,Ifeltsuchglee,thatIcouldhaverushedamongthem,andtornthemtopieceslimbfromlimb,andhowledintransport.ButIgroundmyteeth,andstruckmyfeetuponthefloor,anddrovemysharpnailsintomyhands.Ikeptitdown;andnooneknewIwasamadmanyet.

           ‘Irememberthoughit’soneofthelastthingsIcanremember:fornowImixuprealitieswithmydreams,andhavingsomuchtodo,andbeingalwayshurriedhere,havenotimetoseparatethetwo,fromsomestrangeconfusioninwhichtheygetinvolvedIrememberhowIletitoutatlast.Ha!ha!IthinkIseetheirfrightenedlooksnow,andfeeltheeasewithwhichIflungthemfromme,anddashedmyclenchedfistintotheirwhitefaces,andthenflewlikethewind,andleftthemscreamingandshoutingfarbehind.ThestrengthofagiantcomesuponmewhenIthinkofit.Thereseehowthisironbarbendsbeneathmyfuriouswrench.

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