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- Чарльз Диккенс
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- Стр. 395/459
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But
the
lives
of
gentlemen
devoted
to
such
pleasures
as
Richard
Swiveller
,
are
extremely
precarious
.
The
spiritual
excitement
of
the
last
fortnight
,
working
upon
a
system
affected
in
no
slight
degree
by
the
spirituous
excitement
of
some
years
,
proved
a
little
too
much
for
him
.
That
very
night
,
Mr
Richard
was
seized
with
an
alarming
illness
,
and
in
twenty
-
four
hours
was
stricken
with
a
raging
fever
.
Tossing
to
and
fro
upon
his
hot
,
uneasy
bed
;
tormented
by
a
fierce
thirst
which
nothing
could
appease
;
unable
to
find
,
in
any
change
of
posture
,
a
moment
’
s
peace
or
ease
;
and
rambling
,
ever
,
through
deserts
of
thought
where
there
was
no
resting
-
place
,
no
sight
or
sound
suggestive
of
refreshment
or
repose
,
nothing
but
a
dull
eternal
weariness
,
with
no
change
but
the
restless
shiftings
of
his
miserable
body
,
and
the
weary
wandering
of
his
mind
,
constant
still
to
one
ever
-
present
anxiety
—
to
a
sense
of
something
left
undone
,
of
some
fearful
obstacle
to
be
surmounted
,
of
some
carking
care
that
would
not
be
driven
away
,
and
which
haunted
the
distempered
brain
,
now
in
this
form
,
now
in
that
,
always
shadowy
and
dim
,
but
recognisable
for
the
same
phantom
in
every
shape
it
took
:
darkening
every
vision
like
an
evil
conscience
,
and
making
slumber
horrible
—
in
these
slow
tortures
of
his
dread
disease
,
the
unfortunate
Richard
lay
wasting
and
consuming
inch
by
inch
,
until
,
at
last
,
when
he
seemed
to
fight
and
struggle
to
rise
up
,
and
to
be
held
down
by
devils
,
he
sank
into
a
deep
sleep
,
and
dreamed
no
more
.
He
awoke
.
With
a
sensation
of
most
blissful
rest
,
better
than
sleep
itself
,
he
began
gradually
to
remember
something
of
these
sufferings
,
and
to
think
what
a
long
night
it
had
been
,
and
whether
he
had
not
been
delirious
twice
or
thrice
.
Happening
,
in
the
midst
of
these
cogitations
,
to
raise
his
hand
,
he
was
astonished
to
find
how
heavy
it
seemed
,
and
yet
how
thin
and
light
it
really
was
.
Still
,
he
felt
indifferent
and
happy
;
and
having
no
curiosity
to
pursue
the
subject
,
remained
in
the
same
waking
slumber
until
his
attention
was
attracted
by
a
cough
.
This
made
him
doubt
whether
he
had
locked
his
door
last
night
,
and
feel
a
little
surprised
at
having
a
companion
in
the
room
.
Still
,
he
lacked
energy
to
follow
up
this
train
of
thought
;
and
unconsciously
fell
,
in
a
luxury
of
repose
,
to
staring
at
some
green
stripes
on
the
bed
-
furniture
,
and
associating
them
strangely
with
patches
of
fresh
turf
,
while
the
yellow
ground
between
made
gravel
-
walks
,
and
so
helped
out
a
long
perspective
of
trim
gardens
.
He
was
rambling
in
imagination
on
these
terraces
,
and
had
quite
lost
himself
among
them
indeed
,
when
he
heard
the
cough
once
more
.
The
walks
shrunk
into
stripes
again
at
the
sound
,
and
raising
himself
a
little
in
the
bed
,
and
holding
the
curtain
open
with
one
hand
,
he
looked
out
.
The
same
room
certainly
,
and
still
by
candlelight
;
but
with
what
unbounded
astonishment
did
he
see
all
those
bottles
,
and
basins
,
and
articles
of
linen
airing
by
the
fire
,
and
such
-
like
furniture
of
a
sick
chamber
—
all
very
clean
and
neat
,
but
all
quite
different
from
anything
he
had
left
there
,
when
he
went
to
bed
!
The
atmosphere
,
too
,
filled
with
a
cool
smell
of
herbs
and
vinegar
;
the
floor
newly
sprinkled
;
the
—
the
what
?
The
Marchioness
?
Yes
;
playing
cribbage
with
herself
at
the
table
.
There
she
sat
,
intent
upon
her
game
,
coughing
now
and
then
in
a
subdued
manner
as
if
she
feared
to
disturb
him
—
shuffling
the
cards
,
cutting
,
dealing
,
playing
,
counting
,
pegging
—
going
through
all
the
mysteries
of
cribbage
as
if
she
had
been
in
full
practice
from
her
cradle
!
Mr
Swiveller
contemplated
these
things
for
a
short
time
,
and
suffering
the
curtain
to
fall
into
its
former
position
,
laid
his
head
on
the
pillow
again
.
‘
I
’
m
dreaming
,
’
thought
Richard
,
‘
that
’
s
clear
.
When
I
went
to
bed
,
my
hands
were
not
made
of
egg
-
shells
;
and
now
I
can
almost
see
through
‘
em
.
If
this
is
not
a
dream
,
I
have
woke
up
,
by
mistake
,
in
an
Arabian
Night
,
instead
of
a
London
one
.
But
I
have
no
doubt
I
’
m
asleep
.
Not
the
least
.
’
Here
the
small
servant
had
another
cough
.
