Холодный дом

Springing a Mine

           Anythingwantingtothebonnet?There’sacabatthedoor."MademoiselleHortense,castinganindignanteyeattheglass,shakesherselfperfectlyneatinoneshakeandlooks,todoherjustice,uncommonlygenteel."Listenthen,myangel,"sayssheafterseveralsarcasticnods."Youareveryspiritual.Butcanyourestorehimbacktolife?"Mr.Bucketanswers,"Notexactly.""Thatisdroll.Listenyetonetime.Youareveryspiritual.Canyoumakeahonourableladyofher?""Don’tbesomalicious,"saysMr.Bucket."OrahaughtygentlemanofHIM?"criesmademoiselle,referringtoSirLeicesterwithineffabledisdain."Eh!Oh,thenregardhim!Thepoorinfant!Ha!Ha!Ha!""Come,come,whythisisworsePARLAYINGthantheother,"saysMr.Bucket."Comealong!""Youcannotdothesethings?Thenyoucandoasyoupleasewithme.Itisbutthedeath,itisallthesame.Letusgo,myangel.Adieu,youoldman,grey.Ipityyou,andIdespiseyou!"Withtheselastwordsshesnapsherteethtogetherasifhermouthclosedwithaspring.ItisimpossibletodescribehowMr.Bucketgetsherout,butheaccomplishesthatfeatinamannersopeculiartohimself,enfoldingandpervadingherlikeacloud,andhoveringawaywithherasifhewereahomelyJupiterandshetheobjectofhisaffections.SirLeicester,leftalone,remainsinthesameattitude,asthoughhewerestilllisteningandhisattentionwerestilloccupied.Atlengthhegazesroundtheemptyroom,andfindingitdeserted,risesunsteadilytohisfeet,pushesbackhischair,andwalksafewsteps,supportinghimselfbythetable

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