Странная история доктора Джекила и мистера Хайда
Dr. Lanyon’s Narrative
Thisperson(whohadthus,fromthefirstmomentofhisentrance,struckinmewhatIcanonlydescribeasadisgustfulcuriosity)wasdressedinafashionthatwouldhavemadeanordinarypersonlaughable; hisclothes,thatistosay,althoughtheywereofrichandsoberfabric,wereenormouslytoolargeforhimineverymeasurement—thetrousershangingonhislegsandrolleduptokeepthemfromtheground,thewaistofthecoatbelowhishaunches,andthecollarsprawlingwideuponhisshoulders. Strangetorelate,thisludicrousaccoutrementwasfarfrommovingmetolaughter. Rather,astherewassomethingabnormalandmisbegottenintheveryessenceofthecreaturethatnowfacedme—somethingseizing,surprising,andrevolting—thisfreshdisparityseemedbuttofitinwithandtoreinforceit; sothattomyinterestintheman’snatureandcharacter,therewasaddedacuriosityastohisorigin,hislife,hisfortuneandstatusintheworld.
Theseobservations,thoughtheyhavetakensogreataspacetobesetdownin,wereyettheworkofafewseconds. Myvisitorwas,indeed,onfirewithsombreexcitement.
“Haveyougotit?”hecried.“Haveyougotit?” Andsolivelywashisimpatiencethatheevenlaidhishanduponmyarmandsoughttoshakeme.
Iputhimback,consciousathistouchofacertainicypangalongmyblood. “Come,sir,”saidI. “YouforgetthatIhavenotyetthepleasureofyouracquaintance. Beseated,ifyouplease.”
