Посмертні записки Піквікського клубу

Involving another Journey, and an Antiquarian Discovery; Recording Mr. Pickwick’s Determination to b

           Iknewitmustbeso:thatsoitalwayshadbeen,andsoiteverwouldbe:andwhenIcoweredinsomeobscurecornerofacrowdedroom,andsawmenwhisper,andpoint,andturntheireyestowardsme,Iknewtheyweretellingeachotherofthedoomedmadman;andIslunkawayagaintomopeinsolitude.

           ‘Ididthisforyears;long,longyearstheywere.Thenightsherearelongsometimesverylong;buttheyarenothingtotherestlessnights,anddreadfuldreamsIhadatthattime.Itmakesmecoldtorememberthem.Largeduskyformswithslyandjeeringfacescrouchedinthecornersoftheroom,andbentovermybedatnight,temptingmetomadness.Theytoldmeinlowwhispers,thattheflooroftheoldhouseinwhichmyfatherdied,wasstainedwithhisownblood,shedbyhisownhandinragingmadness.Idrovemyfingersintomyears,buttheyscreamedintomyheadtilltheroomrangwithit,thatinonegenerationbeforehimthemadnessslumbered,butthathisgrandfatherhadlivedforyearswithhishandsfetteredtotheground,topreventhistearinghimselftopieces.IknewtheytoldthetruthIknewitwell.Ihadfounditoutyearsbefore,thoughtheyhadtriedtokeepitfromme.Ha!ha!Iwastoocunningforthem,madmanastheythoughtme.

           ‘Atlastitcameuponme,andIwonderedhowIcouldeverhavefearedit.Icouldgointotheworldnow,andlaughandshoutwiththebestamongthem.IknewIwasmad,buttheydidnotevensuspectit.

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