Крошка Доррит

Chapter 1. Fellow Travellers

           Uphereintheclouds,everythingwasseenthroughcloud,andseemeddissolvingintocloud.Thebreathofthemenwascloud,thebreathofthemuleswascloud,thelightswereencircledbycloud,speakerscloseathandwerenotseenforcloud,thoughtheirvoicesandallothersoundsweresurprisinglyclear.Ofthecloudylineofmuleshastilytiedtoringsinthewall,onewouldbiteanother,orkickanother,andthenthewholemistwouldbedisturbed:withmendivingintoit,andcriesofmenandbeastscomingoutofit,andnobystanderdiscerningwhatwaswrong.Inthemidstofthis,thegreatstableoftheconvent,occupyingthebasementstoryandenteredbythebasementdoor,outsidewhichallthedisorderwas,pouredforthitscontributionofcloud,asifthewholeruggededificewerefilledwithnothingelse,andwouldcollapseassoonasithademptieditself,leavingthesnowtofalluponthebaremountainsummit.

           Whileallthisnoiseandhurrywererifeamongthelivingtravellers,there,too,silentlyassembledinagratedhousehalf-a-dozenpacesremoved,withthesamecloudenfoldingthemandthesamesnowflakesdriftinginuponthem,werethedeadtravellersfounduponthemountain.Themother,storm-belatedmanywintersago,stillstandinginthecornerwithherbabyatherbreast;themanwhohadfrozenwithhisarmraisedtohismouthinfearorhunger,stillpressingitwithhisdrylipsafteryearsandyears.

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