Холодный дом

Mr. Bucket

           Whenhedinesaloneinchambers,ashehasdinedto-day,andhashisbitoffishandhissteakorchickenbroughtinfromthecoffee-house,hedescendswithacandletotheechoingregionsbelowthedesertedmansion,andheraldedbyaremotereverberationofthunderingdoors,comesgravelybackencircledbyanearthyatmosphereandcarryingabottlefromwhichhepoursaradiantnectar,twoscoreandtenyearsold,thatblushesintheglasstofinditselfsofamousandfillsthewholeroomwiththefragranceofsoutherngrapes.Mr.Tulkinghorn,sittinginthetwilightbytheopenwindow,enjoyshiswine.Asifitwhisperedtohimofitsfiftyyearsofsilenceandseclusion,itshutshimupthecloser.Moreimpenetrablethanever,hesits,anddrinks,andmellowsasitwereinsecrecy,ponderingatthattwilighthouronallthemysteriesheknows,associatedwithdarkeningwoodsinthecountry,andvastblankshut-uphousesintown,andperhapssparingathoughtortwoforhimself,andhisfamilyhistory,andhismoney,andhiswillallamysterytoeveryoneandthatonebachelorfriendofhis,amanofthesamemouldandalawyertoo,wholivedthesamekindoflifeuntilhewasseventy-fiveyearsold,andthensuddenlyconceiving(asitissupposed)animpressionthatitwastoomonotonous,gavehisgoldwatchtohishair-dresseronesummereveningandwalkedleisurelyhometotheTempleandhangedhimself.ButMr.Tulkinghornisnotaloneto-nighttoponderathisusuallength.

Настройки
Фон страницы
Размер шрифта
Межстрочный интервал
Фразовые глаголы
Показать / Скрыть меню
Шрифт
Roboto Lora
Уведомления
Страница 451 из 1276