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Klawiatura

Strona 515 z 896

Autor: Charles Dickens

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But, in the ocean of faces where every fierce and furious
expression was in vivid life, there were two groups of
faces--each seven in number--so fixedly contrasting with the
rest, that never did sea roll which bore more memorable wrecks
with it. Seven faces of prisoners, suddenly released by the storm
that had burst their tomb, were carried high overhead: all
scared, all lost, all wondering and amazed, as if the Last Day
were come, and those who rejoiced around them were lost spirits.
Other seven faces there were, carried higher, seven dead faces,
whose drooping eyelids and half-seen eyes awaited the Last Day.
Impassive faces, yet with a suspended--not an
abolished--expression on them; faces, rather, in a fearful pause,
as having yet to raise the dropped lids of the eyes, and bear
witness with the bloodless lips, "THOU DIDST IT!"

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