Рождественская история
Chapter 3
Now,beingpreparedforalmostanything,hewasnotbyanymeanspreparedfornothing;and,consequently,whentheBellstruckOne,andnoshapeappeared,hewastakenwithaviolentfitoftrembling.Fiveminutes,tenminutes,aquarterofanhourwentby,yetnothingcame.Allthistime,helayuponhisbed,theverycoreandcentreofablazeofruddylight,whichstreameduponitwhentheclockproclaimedthehour;andwhich,beingonlylight,wasmorealarmingthanadozenghosts,ashewaspowerlesstomakeoutwhatitmeant,orwouldbeat;andwassometimesapprehensivethathemightbeatthatverymomentaninterestingcaseofspontaneouscombustion,withouthavingtheconsolationofknowingit.Atlast,however,hebegantothink—asyouorIwouldhavethoughtatfirst;foritisalwaysthepersonnotinthepredicamentwhoknowswhatoughttohavebeendoneinit,andwouldunquestionablyhavedoneittoo—atlast,Isay,hebegantothinkthatthesourceandsecretofthisghostlylightmightbeintheadjoiningroom,fromwhence,onfurthertracingit,itseemedtoshine.Thisideatakingfullpossessionofhismind,hegotupsoftlyandshuffledinhisslipperstothedoor.
ThemomentScrooge’shandwasonthelock,astrangevoicecalledhimbyhisname,andbadehimenter.Heobeyed.
Itwashisownroom.Therewasnodoubtaboutthat.Butithadundergoneasurprisingtransformation.Thewallsandceilingweresohungwithlivinggreen,thatitlookedaperfectgrove;fromeverypartofwhich,brightgleamingberriesglistened.
