Оливер Твист

Chapter 9

           AstheJewutteredthesewords,hisbrightdarkeyes,whichhadbeenstaringvacantlybeforehim,fellonOliver’sface;theboy’seyeswerefixedonhisinmutecuriousity;andalthoughtherecognitionwasonlyforaninstantforthebriefestspaceoftimethatcanpossiblybeconceiveditwasenoughtoshowtheoldmanthathehadbeenobserved.

           Heclosedthelidoftheboxwithaloudcrash;and,layinghishandonabreadknifewhichwasonthetable,startedfuriouslyup.Hetrembledverymuchthough;for,eveninhisterror,Olivercouldseethattheknifequiveredintheair.

           ‘What’sthat?’saidtheJew.‘Whatdoyouwatchmefor?Whyareyouawake?Whathaveyouseen?Speakout,boy!Quickquick!foryourlife.

           ‘Iwasn’tabletosleepanylonger,sir,’repliedOliver,meekly.

           ‘IamverysorryifIhavedisturbedyou,sir.

           ‘Youwerenotawakeanhourago?’saidtheJew,scowlingfiercelyontheboy.

           ‘No!No,indeed!’repliedOliver.

           ‘Areyousure?’criedtheJew:withastillfiercerlookthanbefore:andathreateningattitude.

           ‘UponmywordIwasnot,sir,’repliedOliver,earnestly.‘Iwasnot,indeed,sir.

           ‘Tush,tush,mydear!’saidtheJew,abruptlyresuminghisoldmanner,andplayingwiththeknifealittle,beforehelaiditdown;asiftoinducethebeliefthathehadcaughtitup,inmeresport.

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