Ярмарка тщеславия

In Which Jos Takes Flight, and the War Is Brought to a Close

           Wagonsandlongcountrycartsladenwithwoundedcamerollingintothetown;ghastlygroanscamefromwithinthem,andhaggardfaceslookedupsadlyfromoutofthestraw.JosSedleywaslookingatoneofthesecarriageswithapainfulcuriositythemoansofthepeoplewithinwerefrightfultheweariedhorsescouldhardlypullthecart."Stop!stop!"afeeblevoicecriedfromthestraw,andthecarriagestoppedoppositeMr.Sedley’shotel.

           "ItisGeorge,Iknowitis!"criedAmelia,rushinginamomenttothebalcony,withapallidfaceandlooseflowinghair.ItwasnotGeorge,however,butitwasthenextbestthing:itwasnewsofhim.

           ItwaspoorTomStubble,whohadmarchedoutofBrusselssogallantlytwenty-fourhoursbefore,bearingthecoloursoftheregiment,whichhehaddefendedverygallantlyuponthefield.AFrenchlancerhadspearedtheyoungensignintheleg,whofell,stillbravelyholdingtohisflag.Attheconclusionoftheengagement,aplacehadbeenfoundforthepoorboyinacart,andhehadbeenbroughtbacktoBrussels.

           "Mr.Sedley,Mr.Sedley!"criedtheboy,faintly,andJoscameupalmostfrightenedattheappeal.Hehadnotatfirstdistinguishedwhoitwasthatcalledhim.

           LittleTomStubbleheldouthishotandfeeblehand."I’mtobetakeninhere,"hesaid."OsborneandandDobbinsaidIwas;andyouaretogivethemantwonapoleons:mymotherwillpayyou.

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