Ярмарка тщеславия

The Letter on the Pincushion

           

           OnedayafterhewenttoQueen’sCrawley,heburstlikeamadmanintotheroomshehadusedwhentheredashedopenherboxeswithhisfoot,andflungaboutherpapers,clothes,andotherrelics.MissHorrocks,thebutler’sdaughter,tooksomeofthem.Thechildrendressedthemselvesandactedplaysintheothers.Itwasbutafewdaysafterthepoormotherhadgonetoherlonelyburying-place;andwaslaid,unweptanddisregarded,inavaultfullofstrangers.

           "Supposetheoldladydoesn’tcometo,"Rawdonsaidtohislittlewife,astheysatetogetherinthesnuglittleBromptonlodgings.Shehadbeentryingthenewpianoallthemorning.Thenewglovesfittedhertoanicety;thenewshawlsbecameherwonderfully;thenewringsglitteredonherlittlehands,andthenewwatchtickedatherwaist;"supposeshedon’tcomeround,eh,Becky?"

           "I’LLmakeyourfortune,"shesaid;andDelilahpattedSamson’scheek.

           "Youcandoanything,"hesaid,kissingthelittlehand."ByJoveyoucan;andwe’lldrivedowntotheStarandGarter,anddine,byJove."

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