Різдвяна історія
Chapter 1
TherewereCainsandAbels,Pharaohs’daughters;QueensofSheba,Angelicmessengersdescendingthroughtheaironcloudslikefeather-beds,Abrahams,Belshazzars,Apostlesputtingofftoseainbutter-boats,hundredsoffigurestoattracthisthoughts—andyetthatfaceofMarley,sevenyearsdead,cameliketheancientProphet’srod,andswallowedupthewhole.Ifeachsmoothtilehadbeenablankatfirst,withpowertoshapesomepictureonitssurfacefromthedisjointedfragmentsofhisthoughts,therewouldhavebeenacopyofoldMarley’sheadoneveryone.
‘Humbug!’saidScrooge;andwalkedacrosstheroom.
Afterseveralturns,hesatdownagain.Ashethrewhisheadbackinthechair,hisglancehappenedtorestuponabell,adisusedbell,thathungintheroom,andcommunicatedforsomepurposenowforgottenwithachamberinthehigheststoryofthebuilding.Itwaswithgreatastonishment,andwithastrange,inexplicabledread,thatashelooked,hesawthisbellbegintoswing.Itswungsosoftlyintheoutsetthatitscarcelymadeasound;butsoonitrangoutloudly,andsodideverybellinthehouse.
Thismighthavelastedhalfaminute,oraminute,butitseemedanhour.Thebellsceasedastheyhadbegun,together.Theyweresucceededbyaclankingnoise,deepdownbelow;asifsomepersonweredraggingaheavychainoverthecasksinthewinemerchant’scellar.Scroogethenrememberedtohaveheardthatghostsinhauntedhousesweredescribedasdraggingchains.
