Посмертні записки Піквікського клубу

In which Mr. Pickwick encounters an old Acquaintance — To which fortunate Circumstance the Reader is

           

           ‘Yes,sir,’rejoinedthewaiter.

           Thelandlordwassent,andcame.

           ‘Areyouthelandlord?’inquiredthegentleman.

           ‘Iamsir,’repliedthelandlord.

           ‘MynameisSlurk,’saidthegentleman.

           Thelandlordslightlyinclinedhishead.

           ‘Slurk,sir,’repeatedthegentlemanhaughtily.‘Doyouknowmenow,man?’

           Thelandlordscratchedhishead,lookedattheceiling,andatthestranger,andsmiledfeebly.

           ‘Doyouknowme,man?’inquiredthestrangerangrily.

           Thelandlordmadeastrongeffort,andatlengthreplied,

           ‘Well,Sir,Idonotknowyou.’

           ‘GreatHeaven!’saidthestranger,dashinghisclenchedfistuponthetable.‘Andthisispopularity!’

           Thelandlordtookasteportwotowardsthedoor;thestrangerfixinghiseyesuponhim,resumed.

           ‘This,’saidthestranger‘thisisgratitudeforyearsoflabourandstudyinbehalfofthemasses.Ialightwetandweary;noenthusiasticcrowdspressforwardtogreettheirchampion;thechurchbellsaresilent;theverynameelicitsnoresponsivefeelingintheirtorpidbosoms.Itisenough,’saidtheagitatedMr.Slurk,pacingtoandfro,‘tocurdletheinkinone’spen,andinduceonetoabandontheircauseforever.’

           ‘Didyousaybrandy-and-water,Sir?’saidthelandlord,venturingahint.

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