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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 114/859
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‘
I
’
ll
go
with
him
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
.
‘
You
’
re
a
good
fellow
,
Pickwick
,
’
said
the
host
,
grasping
his
hand
.
‘
Emma
,
give
Mr
.
Pickwick
a
shawl
to
tie
round
his
neck
—
make
haste
.
Look
after
your
grandmother
,
girls
;
she
has
fainted
away
.
Now
then
,
are
you
ready
?
’
Mr
.
Pickwick
’
s
mouth
and
chin
having
been
hastily
enveloped
in
a
large
shawl
,
his
hat
having
been
put
on
his
head
,
and
his
greatcoat
thrown
over
his
arm
,
he
replied
in
the
affirmative
.
They
jumped
into
the
gig
.
‘
Give
her
her
head
,
Tom
,
’
cried
the
host
;
and
away
they
went
,
down
the
narrow
lanes
;
jolting
in
and
out
of
the
cart
-
ruts
,
and
bumping
up
against
the
hedges
on
either
side
,
as
if
they
would
go
to
pieces
every
moment
.
‘
How
much
are
they
ahead
?
’
shouted
Wardle
,
as
they
drove
up
to
the
door
of
the
Blue
Lion
,
round
which
a
little
crowd
had
collected
,
late
as
it
was
.
‘
Not
above
three
-
quarters
of
an
hour
,
’
was
everybody
’
s
reply
.
‘
Chaise
-
and
-
four
directly
!
—
out
with
’
em
!
Put
up
the
gig
afterwards
.
’
‘
Now
,
boys
!
’
cried
the
landlord
—
‘
chaise
-
and
-
four
out
—
make
haste
—
look
alive
there
!
’
Away
ran
the
hostlers
and
the
boys
.
The
lanterns
glimmered
,
as
the
men
ran
to
and
fro
;
the
horses
’
hoofs
clattered
on
the
uneven
paving
of
the
yard
;
the
chaise
rumbled
as
it
was
drawn
out
of
the
coach
-
house
;
and
all
was
noise
and
bustle
.
‘
Now
then
!
—
is
that
chaise
coming
out
to
-
night
?
’
cried
Wardle
.
‘
Coming
down
the
yard
now
,
Sir
,
’
replied
the
hostler
.
