Зима тревоги нашей
Chapter 22
Arustlingschooloftinyfeedingfishflickedalongtheshore.
Mylightisout.There’snothingblackerthanawick.
InwardIsaid,Iwanttogohome—nonothome,totheothersideofhomewherethelightsaregiven.
It’ssomuchdarkerwhenalightgoesoutthanitwouldhavebeenifithadnevershone.Theworldisfullofdarkderelicts.Thebetterway—theMarulliofthatoldRomewouldhaveknownit—therecomesatimefordecent,honorableretirement,notdramatic,notpunishmentofselforfamily—justgood-by,awarmbathandanopenedvein,awarmseaandarazorblade.
ThegroundswellontherisingtidewhishedintothePlaceandraisedmylegsandhipsandswungthemtothesideandcarriedmywetfoldedraincoatoutwithit.
IrolledononehipandreachedinmysidepocketformyrazorbladesandIfeltthelump.TheninwonderIrememberedthecaressing,strokinghandsofthelight-bearer.Foramomentitresistedcomingoutofmywetpocket.Theninmyhanditgatheredeverybitoflighttherewasandseemedred—darkred.
AsurgeofwavepushedmeagainsttheverybackofthePlace.Andthetempooftheseaspeededup.Ihadtofightthewatertogetout,andIhadtogetout.Irolledandscrambledandsplashedchestdeepinthesurfandthebriskingwavespushedmeagainsttheoldseawall.
Ihadtogetback—hadtoreturnthetalismantoitsnewowner.
Elseanotherlightmightgoout.
