Chapter 21

           Therewassilence.Thecricketschirped.Somenightbird,highoverhead,croakedprimevallyinthestars."Whathappenedwhenyougothome?""Itislate.""But""Tomorrow."Helitthelamp.Ashestraightenedupfromadjustingthewick,hestaredatme."Youarenotashamedtobetheguestofatraitortohiscountry?""Idon’tthinkyouwereatraitortothehumanrace."Wemovedtowardshisbedroomwindows."Thehumanraceisunimportant.Itistheselfthatmustnotbebetrayed.""IsupposeonecouldsaythatHitlerdidn’tbetrayhisself."Heturned."Youareright.Hedidnot.ButmillionsofGermansdidbetraytheirselves.Thatwasthetragedy.Notthatonemanhadthecouragetobeevil.Butthatmillionshadnotthecouragetobegood."Heledthewaythroughtomyroom,andlitthelampthereforme."Goodnight,Nicholas.""Goodnight.And…"Buthishandwasup,silencingmeandwhathemusthaveguessedweretobemythanks.Thenhewasgone.WhenIcamebackfromthebathroom,Ilookedatmywatch.Itwasaquartertoone.Iundressedandturnedoutthelamp,thenstoodamomentbytheopenwindow.Therewasavaguesmellofdrainsinthestillair,ofacesspoolsomewhere.Igotintobed,andlaythinkingaboutConchis.Heseemedamorehumanperson,amuchmorehumanperson,thanhehadbefore;yettherewasakindofprofessionalism,anairofhavingrehearsedthenarrative,oratanyrate,ofhavingtolditbeforetoLeverrierandMitford?thattookawayalittlefromthefranknessandimpactoftheconfession.

Настройки
Фон страницы
Размер шрифта
Межстрочный интервал
Фразовые глаголы
Показать / Скрыть меню
Шрифт
Roboto Lora
Уведомления
Страница 164 из 822