Рождественская история
Chapter 3
Thecrispleavesofholly,mistletoe,andivyreflectedbackthelight,asifsomanylittlemirrorshadbeenscatteredthere;andsuchamightyblazewentroaringupthechimney,asthatdullpetrificationofahearthhadneverknowninScrooge’stime,orMarley’s,orformanyandmanyawinterseasongone.Heapeduponthefloor,toformakindofthrone,wereturkeys,geese,game,poultry,brawn,greatjointsofmeat,sucking-pigs,longwreathsofsausages,mince-pies,plum-puddings,barrelsofoysters,red-hotchestnuts,cherry-cheekedapples,juicyoranges,lusciouspears,immensetwelfth-cakes,andseethingbowlsofpunch,thatmadethechamberdimwiththeirdelicioussteam.Ineasystateuponthiscouch,theresatajollyGiant,glorioustosee,whoboreaglowingtorch,inshapenotunlikePlenty’shorn,andhelditup,highup,tosheditslightonScrooge,ashecamepeepingroundthedoor.
‘Comein!’exclaimedtheGhost.‘Comein,andknowmebetter,man.’
Scroogeenteredtimidly,andhunghisheadbeforethisSpirit.HewasnotthedoggedScroogehehadbeen;andthoughtheSpirit’seyeswereclearandkind,hedidnotliketomeetthem.
‘IamtheGhostofChristmasPresent,’saidtheSpirit.‘Lookuponme.’
Scroogereverentlydidso.Itwasclothedinonesimplegreenrobe,ormantle,borderedwithwhitefur.Thisgarmenthungsolooselyonthefigure,thatitscapaciousbreastwasbare,asifdisdainingtobewardedorconcealedbyanyartifice.
