The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club. Volume 2 of 2. Чарльз Диккенс

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СКАЧАТЬ there was heard a devil of a noise, like a small hailstorm. ‘Don’t do that, my boy,’ said the father. ‘I ain’t a doin’ nothing,’ said the child. ‘Well, don’t do it again,’ said the father. There was a short silence, and then the noise again began, worse than ever. ‘If you don’t mind what I say, my boy,’ said the father, ‘you’ll find yourself in bed, in something less than a pig’s whisper.’ He gave the child a shake to make him obedient, and such a rattling ensued as nobody ever heard before. ‘Why, damme, it’s in the child!’ said the father, ‘he’s got the croup in the wrong place!’ ‘No I haven’t, father,’ said the child, beginning to cry, ‘it’s the necklace; I swallowed it, father.’ The father caught the child up, and ran with him to the hospital: the beads in the boy’s stomach rattling all the way with the jolting; and the people looking up in the air, and down in the cellars to see where the unusual sound came from. He’s in the hospital now,” said Jack Hopkins, “and he makes such a devil of a noise when he walks about, that they’re obliged to muffle him in a watchman’s coat, for fear he should wake the patients!”

      “That’s the most extraordinary case I ever heard of,” said Mr. Pickwick, with an emphatic blow on the table.

      “Oh, that’s nothing,” said Jack Hopkins; “is it, Bob?”

      “Certainly not,” replied Mr. Bob Sawyer.

      “Very singular things occur in our profession, I can assure you, sir,” said Hopkins.

      “So I should be disposed to imagine,” replied Mr. Pickwick.

      Another knock at the door, announced a large-headed young man in a black wig, who brought with him a scorbutic youth in a long stock. The next comer was a gentleman in a shirt emblazoned with pink anchors, who was closely followed by a pale youth with a plated watchguard. The arrival of a prim personage in clean linen and cloth boots rendered the party complete. The little table with the green baize cover was wheeled out; the first instalment of punch was brought in, in a white jug; and the succeeding three hours were devoted to vingt-et-un at sixpence a dozen, which was only once interrupted by a slight dispute between the scorbutic youth and the gentleman with the pink anchors; in the course of which, the scorbutic youth intimated a burning desire to pull the nose of the gentleman with the emblems of hope; in reply to which, that individual expressed his decided unwillingness to accept of any “sauce” on gratuitous terms, either from the irascible young gentleman with the scorbutic countenance, or any other person who was ornamented with a head.

      When the last “natural” had been declared, and the profit and loss account of fish and sixpences adjusted, to the satisfaction of all parties, Mr. Bob Sawyer rang for supper, and the visitors squeezed themselves into corners while it was getting ready.

      It was not so easily got ready as some people may imagine. First of all, it was necessary to awaken the girl, who had fallen asleep with her face on the kitchen table; this took a little time, and, even when she did answer the bell, another quarter of an hour was consumed in fruitless endeavours to impart to her a faint and distant glimmering of reason. The man to whom the order for the oysters had been sent, had not been told to open them; it is a very difficult thing to open an oyster with a limp knife or a two-pronged fork; and very little was done in this way. Very little of the beef was done either; and the ham (which was also from the German-sausage shop round the corner) was in a similar predicament. However, there was plenty of porter in a tin can; and the cheese went a great way, for it was very strong. So upon the whole, perhaps, the supper was quite as good as such matters usually are.

      After supper, another jug of punch was put upon the table, together with a paper of cigars, and a couple of bottles of spirits. Then there was an awful pause; and this awful pause was occasioned by a very common occurrence in this sort of place, but a very embarrassing one notwithstanding.

      The fact is, the girl was washing the glasses. The establishment boasted four; we do not record the circumstance as at all derogatory to Mrs. Raddle, for there never was a lodging-house yet, that was not short of glasses. The landlady’s glasses were little thin blown glass tumblers, and those which had been borrowed from the public-house were great, dropsical, bloated articles, each supported on a huge gouty leg. This would have been in itself sufficient to have possessed the company with the real state of affairs; but the young woman of all work had prevented the possibility of any misconception arising in the mind of any gentleman upon the subject, by forcibly dragging every man’s glass away, long before he had finished his beer, and audibly stating, despite the winks and interruptions of Mr. Bob Sawyer, that it was to be conveyed down-stairs, and washed forthwith.

      It is a very ill wind that blows nobody any good. The prim man in the cloth boots, who had been unsuccessfully attempting to make a joke during the whole time the round game lasted, saw his opportunity, and availed himself of it. The instant the glasses disappeared, he commenced a long story about a great public character, whose name he had forgotten, making a particularly happy reply to another eminent and illustrious individual whom he had never been able to identify. He enlarged at some length and with great minuteness upon divers collateral circumstances, distantly connected with the anecdote in hand, but for the life of him he couldn’t recollect at that precise moment what the anecdote was, although he had been in the habit of telling the story with great applause for the last ten years.

      “Dear me,” said the prim man in the cloth boots, “it is a very extraordinary circumstance.”

      “I am sorry you have forgotten it,” said Mr. Bob Sawyer, glancing eagerly at the door, as he thought he heard the noise of glasses jingling; “very sorry.”

      “So am I,” responded the prim man, “because I know it would have afforded so much amusement. Never mind; I dare say I shall manage to recollect it, in the course of half an hour or so.”

      The prim man arrived at this point, just as the glasses came back, when Mr. Bob Sawyer, who had been absorbed in attention during the whole time, said he should very much like to hear the end of it, for, so far as it went, it was, without exception, the very best story he had ever heard.

      The sight of the tumblers restored Bob Sawyer to a degree of equanimity which he had not possessed since his interview with his landlady. His face brightened up, and he began to feel quite convivial.

      “Now, Betsy,” said Mr. Bob Sawyer, with great suavity, and dispersing, at the same time, the tumultuous little mob of glasses the girl had collected in the centre of the table: “now, Betsy, the warm water: be brisk, there’s a good girl.”

      “You can’t have no warm water,” replied Betsy.

      “No warm water!” exclaimed Mr. Bob Sawyer.

      “No,” said the girl, with a shake of the head which expressed a more decided negative than the most copious language could have conveyed. “Missis Raddle said you warn’t to have none.”

      The surprise depicted on the countenances of his guests imparted new courage to the host.

      “Bring up the warm water instantly – instantly!” said Mr. Bob Sawyer, with desperate sternness.

      “No. I can’t,” replied the girl; “Missis Raddle raked out the kitchen fire afore she went to bed, and locked up the kittle.”

      “Oh, never mind; never mind. Pray don’t disturb yourself about such a trifle,” said Mr. Pickwick, observing the conflict of Bob Sawyer’s passions, as depicted in his countenance, “cold water will do very well.”

      “Oh, admirably,” said Mr. Benjamin Allen.

      “My landlady is subject to some slight attacks of mental derangement,” remarked Bob Sawyer with a ghastly smile; “and I fear I must СКАЧАТЬ