Холодный дом

On the Watch

           Wearinessofsoulliesbeforeher,asitliesbehind—herArielhasputagirdleofitroundthewholeearth,anditcannotbeunclasped—buttheimperfectremedyisalwaystoflyfromthelastplacewhereithasbeenexperienced.FlingParisbackintothedistance,then,exchangingitforendlessavenuesandcross-avenuesofwintrytrees!And,whennextbeheld,letitbesomeleaguesaway,withtheGateoftheStarawhitespeckglitteringinthesun,andthecityameremoundinaplain—twodarksquaretowersrisingoutofit,andlightandshadowdescendingonitaslant,liketheangelsinJacob’sdream!SirLeicesterisgenerallyinacomplacentstate,andrarelybored.Whenhehasnothingelsetodo,hecanalwayscontemplatehisowngreatness.Itisaconsiderableadvantagetoamantohavesoinexhaustibleasubject.Afterreadinghisletters,heleansbackinhiscornerofthecarriageandgenerallyreviewshisimportancetosociety."Youhaveanunusualamountofcorrespondencethismorning?"saysmyLadyafteralongtime.Sheisfatiguedwithreading.Hasalmostreadapageintwentymiles."Nothinginit,though.Nothingwhatever.""IsawoneofMr.Tulkinghorn’slongeffusions,Ithink?""Youseeeverything,"saysSirLeicesterwithadmiration."Ha!"sighsmyLady."Heisthemosttiresomeofmen!""Hesends—Ireallybegyourpardon—hesends,"saysSirLeicester,selectingtheletterandunfoldingit,"amessagetoyou.OurstoppingtochangehorsesasIcametohispostscriptdroveitoutofmymemory.Ibegyou’llexcuseme.

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