Возвращение на родину

VII. The Morning and the Evening of a Day

           “Ishalldreamofitnightsandnights,Isuppose;butIshallalwaysswearmyfleshdon’tcrawlwhenIthinko’t!”

           HethrusthishandintothebootandwithdrewoneofpoorThomasin’spreciousguineas,pipinghot.Wildevehadalreadyplacedasovereignonthestone.Thegamewasthenresumed.Wildevewonfirst,andChristianventuredanother,winninghimselfthistime.Thegamefluctuated,buttheaveragewasinWildeve’sfavour.Bothmenbecamesoabsorbedinthegamethattheytooknoheedofanythingbutthepigmyobjectsimmediatelybeneaththeireyes,theflatstone,theopenlantern,thedice,andthefewilluminatedfern-leaveswhichlayunderthelight,werethewholeworldtothem.

           AtlengthChristianlostrapidly;andpresently,tohishorror,thewholefiftyguineasbelongingtoThomasinhadbeenhandedovertohisadversary.

           “Idon’tcare—Idon’tcare!”hemoaned,anddesperatelysetaboutuntyinghisleftboottogetattheotherfifty.“Thedevilwilltossmeintotheflamesonhisthree-prongedforkforthisnight’swork,Iknow!ButperhapsIshallwinyet,andthenI’llgetawifetositupwithmeo’nightsandIwon’tbeafeard,Iwon’t!Here’sanotherfor’ee,myman!”Heslappedanotherguineadownuponthestone,andthedice-boxwasrattledagain.

           Timepassedon.WildevebegantobeasexcitedasChristianhimself.WhencommencingthegamehisintentionhadbeennothingfurtherthanabitterpracticaljokeonMrs.Yeobright.

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