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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Посмертные записки Пиквикского клуба
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- Стр. 115/859
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Out
came
the
chaise
—
in
went
the
horses
—
on
sprang
the
boys
—
in
got
the
travellers
.
‘
Mind
—
the
seven
-
mile
stage
in
less
than
half
an
hour
!
’
shouted
Wardle
.
‘
Off
with
you
!
’
The
boys
applied
whip
and
spur
,
the
waiters
shouted
,
the
hostlers
cheered
,
and
away
they
went
,
fast
and
furiously
.
‘
Pretty
situation
,
’
thought
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
when
he
had
had
a
moment
’
s
time
for
reflection
.
‘
Pretty
situation
for
the
general
chairman
of
the
Pickwick
Club
.
Damp
chaise
—
strange
horses
—
fifteen
miles
an
hour
—
and
twelve
o
’
clock
at
night
!
’
For
the
first
three
or
four
miles
,
not
a
word
was
spoken
by
either
of
the
gentlemen
,
each
being
too
much
immersed
in
his
own
reflections
to
address
any
observations
to
his
companion
.
When
they
had
gone
over
that
much
ground
,
however
,
and
the
horses
getting
thoroughly
warmed
began
to
do
their
work
in
really
good
style
,
Mr
.
Pickwick
became
too
much
exhilarated
with
the
rapidity
of
the
motion
,
to
remain
any
longer
perfectly
mute
.
‘
We
’
re
sure
to
catch
them
,
I
think
,
’
said
he
.
‘
Hope
so
,
’
replied
his
companion
.
‘
Fine
night
,
’
said
Mr
.
Pickwick
,
looking
up
at
the
moon
,
which
was
shining
brightly
.
