Зеленая миля

Chapter 2

           "BossDean?Ithinkwhathedidwasteachacertainfrench-fryitain’tsmarttolaughathim,"hesaid,andthenbegantolaughhimself.Itwasagoodlaugh,acountrylaugh,cheeryanddeep.TherewerepeopleImetduringthatperiodofmylife(veryscarypeople,forthemostpart)whoonlysoundednormalwhentheylaughed.WildBillWhartonwasoneofthose.

           Ilookeddownatthemouseagain,stunned.Itwasstillbreathing,buttherewerelittleminutebeadsofbloodcaughtinthefilamentsofitswhiskers,andadullglazewascreepingoveritspreviouslybrilliantoildropeyes.Brutalpickedupthecoloredspool,lookedatit,thenlookedatme.HelookedasdumbfoundedasIfelt.Behindus,Delacroixwentonscreamingouthisgriefandhorror.Itwasn’tjustthemouse,ofcourse;PercyhadsmashedaholeinDelacroix’sdefensesandallhisterrorwaspouringout.ButMr.Jingleswasthefocusingpointforthosepent-upfeelings,anditwasterribletolistentohim.

           "Ohno,"hecriedoverandoveragain,amidthescreamsandthegarbledpleasandprayersinCajunFrench."Ohno,ohno,poorMr.Jingles,pooroldMr.Jingles,ohno."

           "Giveimtome."

           Ilookedup,puzzledbythatdeepvoice,atfirstnotsurewhoitbelongedto.IsawJohnCoffey.LikeDelacroix,hehadputhisarmsthroughthebarsofhiscelldoor,butunlikeDel,hewasn’twavingthemaround.Hesimplyheldthemoutasfarashecould,thehandsattheendsofthemopen.

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