Посмертні записки Піквікського клубу

Treats of divers little Matters which occurred in the Fleet, and of Mr. Winkle’s mysterious Behaviou

           

           ‘Ofcoursenot,’repliedMr.Pickwickhastily.

           ‘I’mafraid,however,’saidRoker,shakinghishead,‘thatit’sallupwithhim.IofferedNeddytwosix-penn’orthstooneuponitjustnow,buthewouldn’ttakeit,andquiteright.Thank’ee,Sir.Good-night,sir.’

           ‘Stay,’saidMr.Pickwickearnestly.‘Whereisthisinfirmary?’

           ‘Justoverwhereyouslept,sir,’repliedRoker.‘I’llshowyou,ifyouliketocome.’Mr.Pickwicksnatcheduphishatwithoutspeaking,andfollowedatonce.

           Theturnkeyledthewayinsilence;andgentlyraisingthelatchoftheroomdoor,motionedMr.Pickwicktoenter.Itwasalarge,bare,desolateroom,withanumberofstumpbedsteadsmadeofiron,ononeofwhichlaystretchedtheshadowofamanwan,pale,andghastly.Hisbreathingwashardandthick,andhemoanedpainfullyasitcameandwent.Atthebedsidesatashortoldmaninacobbler’sapron,who,bytheaidofapairofhornspectacles,wasreadingfromtheBiblealoud.Itwasthefortunatelegatee.

           Thesickmanlaidhishanduponhisattendant’sarm,andmotionedhimtostop.Heclosedthebook,andlaiditonthebed.

           ‘Openthewindow,’saidthesickman.

           Hedidso.Thenoiseofcarriagesandcarts,therattleofwheels,thecriesofmenandboys,allthebusysoundsofamightymultitudeinstinctwithlifeandoccupation,blendedintoonedeepmurmur,floatedintotheroom.

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