Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

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

           Abovethehoarseloudhum,arose,fromtimetotime,aboisterouslaugh;orascrapofsomejinglingsong,shoutedforth,byoneofthegiddycrowd,wouldstrikeupontheear,foraninstant,andthenbelostamidsttheroarofvoicesandthetrampoffootsteps;thebreakingofthebillowsoftherestlessseaoflife,thatrolledheavilyon,without.Thesearemelancholysoundstoaquietlisteneratanytime;buthowmelancholytothewatcherbythebedofdeath!

           ‘Thereisnoairhere,’saidthemanfaintly.‘Theplacepollutesit.Itwasfreshroundabout,whenIwalkedthere,yearsago;butitgrowshotandheavyinpassingthesewalls.Icannotbreatheit.’

           ‘Wehavebreathedittogether,foralongtime,’saidtheoldman.‘Come,come.’

           Therewasashortsilence,duringwhichthetwospectatorsapproachedthebed.Thesickmandrewahandofhisoldfellow-prisonertowardshim,andpressingitaffectionatelybetweenbothhisown,retaineditinhisgrasp.

           ‘Ihope,’hegaspedafterawhile,sofaintlythattheybenttheirearscloseoverthebedtocatchthehalf-formedsoundshispalelipsgaveventto‘IhopemymercifulJudgewillbearinmindmyheavypunishmentonearth.Twentyyears,myfriend,twentyyearsinthishideousgrave!Myheartbrokewhenmychilddied,andIcouldnotevenkisshiminhislittlecoffin.Mylonelinesssincethen,inallthisnoiseandriot,hasbeenverydreadful.MayGodforgiveme!Hehasseenmysolitary,lingeringdeath

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Roboto Lora
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