Great Expectations / Большие надежды

” Everybody then murmured “True!” and looked at me in a particularly unpleasant and personal manner.

“You must taste,” said my sister, addressing the guests with her best grace – “you must taste such a delightful and delicious present of Uncle Pumblechook’s! You must know, it’s a pie; a pork pie.”

My sister went out to get it. I heard her steps proceed to the pantry. I saw Mr. Pumblechook balance his knife. I felt that I could bear no more, and that I must run away. I ran for my life.

But I ran no farther than the house door. There stood a party of soldiers with their muskets.

Chapter 5

The sergeant and I were in the kitchen when Mrs. Joe stood staring.

“Excuse me, ladies and gentleman,” said the sergeant, “but I am on a chase in the name of the king, and I want the blacksmith.”

“And pray what might you want with him?” retorted my sister.

“Missis,” returned the gallant sergeant, “speaking for the king, I answer, a little job.

You see, blacksmith, we have had an accident with handcuffs, and I find the lock of one of them goes wrong, and the coupling don’t act pretty. As they are wanted for immediate service, will you throw your eye over them?[21 - will you throw your eye over them? – не будете ли вы так добры взглянуть на них?]”

Joe threw his eye over them, and pronounced that the job would take two hours.

“Would you give me the time?” said the sergeant, addressing himself to Mr.

Pumblechook.

“It’s just gone half past two.”

“That’s not so bad,” said the sergeant, reflecting; “How far are the marshes? Not above a mile, I reckon?”

“Just a mile,” said Mrs. Joe.

“Convicts, sergeant?” asked Mr. Wopsle.

“Ay!” returned the sergeant, “two. They are out on the marshes, and we are going to catch them.”

At last, Joe’s job was done. As Joe got on his coat, he proposed that some of us should go down with the soldiers.

Mr. Pumblechook and Mr. Hubble declined, but Mr. Wopsle said he would go, if Joe would. Joe said he was agreeable, and would take me, if Mrs. Joe approved. Mrs. Joe said, “If you bring the boy back with his head blown to bits by a musket, don’t ask me to put it together again.”

When we were all out in the raw air and were steadily moving towards the marshs, I whispered to Joe, “I hope, Joe, we shan’t find them.