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【MIDV-012】友の母?あなたが欲しい

Source global Wall Street Journal     time 2020-02-27 09:02:21
Typefacelarge in Small

【MIDV-012】友の母?あなたが欲しい �


Sherepeatedinthesametone,sunktoawhisper,`Ihavebeenfree,Ihavebeenhappy,yethisGhosthasneverhauntedme!'

`Areyouquiteastrangertome,sir?'

`Why,lookatyouall!'bawledthisfigure,addressingtheinnservants.`Whydon'tyougoandfetchthings,insteadofstandingtherestaringatme?Iamnotsomuchtolookat,amI?Whydon'tyougoandfetchthings?I'llletyouknow,ifyoudon'tbringsmelling-salts,coldwater,andvinegar,quick,Iwill.'

`Itisso,Jacques,'MonsieurDefargereturned.

`Atthattime--Imayask,atwhattime,sir?'

Atthissecondinterchangeofthechristianname,MadameDefarge,stillusinghertoothpickwithprofoundcomposure,coughedanothergrainofcough,andraisedhereyebrowsbythebreadthofanotherline.

`Icanbearanythingbuttheuncertaintyyouleavemeinatthismoment.

`Putiton,putiton,'saidtheother.`Callwine,wineandfinishthere.'Withthatadvice,hewipedhissoiledhanduponthejoker'sdress,suchasitwas--quitedeliberately,ashavingdirtiedthehandonhisaccount;andthenre-crossedtheroadandenteredthewine-shop.

AndnowthatthecloudsettledonSaintAntoine,whichamomentarygleamhaddrivenfromhissacredcountenance,thedarknessofitwasheavy--cold,dirt,sickness,ignorance,andwant,werethelordsinwaitingonthesaintlypresence--noblesofgreatpowerallofthem;but,mostespeciallythelast.Samplesofapeoplethathadundergoneaterriblegrindingandre-grindinginthemill,andcertainlynotinthefabulousmillwhichgroundoldpeopleyoung,shiveredateverycorner,passedinandoutateverydoorway,lookedfromeverywindow,flutteredineveryvestigeofagarmentthatthewindshock.Themillwhichhadworkedthemdown,wasthemillthatgrindsyoungpeopleold;thechildrenhadancientfacesandgravevoices;anduponthem,anduponthegrownfaces,andploughedintoeveryfurrowofageandcomingupafresh,wasthesign,Hunger.Itwasprevalenteverywhere.Hungerwaspushedoutofthetallhouses,inthewretchedclothingthathunguponpolesandlines;Hungerwaspatchedintothemwithstrawandragandwoodandpaper;Hungerwasrepeatedineveryfragmentofthesmallmodicumoffirewoodthatthemansawedoff;Hungerstareddownfromthesmokelesschimneys,andstartedupfromthefilthystreetthathadnooffal,amongitsrefuse,ofanythingtoeat.Hungerwastheinscriptiononthebaker'sshelves,writtenineverysmallloafofhisScantystockofbadbread;atthesausage-shop,ineverydead-dogpreparationthatwasofferedforsale.Hungerrattleditsdrybonesamongtheroastingchestnutsintheturnedcylinder;Hungerwasshredintoatomiesineveryfarthingporringerofhuskychipsofpotato,friedwithsomereluctantdropsofoil.


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