Олівер Твіст

Chapter 52

           Scoresofmenmusthavepassedtheirlasthoursthere.Itwaslikesittinginavaultstrewnwithdeadbodiesthecap,thenoose,thepinionedarms,thefacesthatheknew,evenbeneaththathideousveil.Light,light!

           Atlength,whenhishandswererawwithbeatingagainsttheheavydoorandwalls,twomenappeared:onebearingacandle,whichhethrustintoanironcandlestickfixedagainstthewall:theotherdragginginamattressonwhichtopassthenight;fortheprisonerwastobeleftalonenomore.

           Thencamethenightdark,dismal,silentnight.Otherwatchersaregladtohearthischurch-clockstrike,fortheytelloflifeandcomingday.Tohimtheybroughtdespair.Theboomofeveryironbellcameladenwiththeone,deep,hollowsoundDeath.Whatavailedthenoiseandbustleofcheerfulmorning,whichpenetratedeventhere,tohim?Itwasanotherformofknell,withmockeryaddedtothewarning.

           Thedaypassedoff.Day?Therewasnoday;itwasgoneassoonascomeandnightcameonagain;nightsolong,andyetsoshort;longinitsdreadfulsilence,andshortinitsfleetinghours.Atonetimeheravedandblasphemed;andatanotherhowledandtorehishair.Venerablemenofhisownpersuasionhadcometopraybesidehim,buthehaddriventhemawaywithcurses.Theyrenewedtheircharitableefforts,andhebeatthemoff.

           Saturdaynight.Hehadonlyonenightmoretolive.Andashethoughtofthis,thedaybrokeSunday.

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