Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба

An old-fashioned Card-party — The Clergyman’s verses — The Story of the Convict’s Return

           

           ‘Hehadnotobservedthatamanwaslyingonthebankbesidehim;hisgarmentsrustledasheturnedroundtostealalookatthenew-comer;andEdmundsraisedhishead.

           ‘Themanhadmovedintoasittingposture.Hisbodywasmuchbent,andhisfacewaswrinkledandyellow.Hisdressdenotedhimaninmateoftheworkhouse:hehadtheappearanceofbeingveryold,butitlookedmoretheeffectofdissipationordisease,thanthelengthofyears.Hewasstaringhardatthestranger,andthoughhiseyeswerelustrelessandheavyatfirst,theyappearedtoglowwithanunnaturalandalarmedexpressionaftertheyhadbeenfixeduponhimforashorttime,untiltheyseemedtobestartingfromtheirsockets.Edmundsgraduallyraisedhimselftohisknees,andlookedmoreandmoreearnestlyontheoldman’sface.Theygazeduponeachotherinsilence.

           ‘Theoldmanwasghastlypale.Heshudderedandtotteredtohisfeet.Edmundssprangtohis.Hesteppedbackapaceortwo.Edmundsadvanced.

           ‘"Letmehearyouspeak,"saidtheconvict,inathick,brokenvoice.

           ‘"Standoff!"criedtheoldman,withadreadfuloath.Theconvictdrewclosertohim.

           ‘"Standoff!"shriekedtheoldman.Furiouswithterror,heraisedhisstick,andstruckEdmundsaheavyblowacrosstheface.

           ‘"Fatherdevil!"murmuredtheconvictbetweenhissetteeth

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