Уловка 22

The Cellar

           HespiedYossarianfinallywithafeelingofimmensejoy,andthenhismouthgapedopenslowlyinunbearablehorrorashenotedYossarian’svivid,beaten,grimylookofdeep,druggeddespair.Heunderstoodatonce,recoilinginpainfromtherealizationandshakinghisheadwithaprotestingandimploringgrimace,thatNatelywasdead.Theknowledgestruckhimwithanumbingshock.Asobbrokefromhim.Theblooddrainedfromhislegs,andhethoughthewasgoingtodrop.Natelywasdead.AllhopethathewasmistakenwaswashedawaybythesoundofNately’snameemergingwithrecurringclaritynowfromthealmostinaudiblebabbleofmurmuringvoicesthathewassuddenlyawareofforthefirsttime.Natelywasdead:theboyhadbeenkilled.Awhimperingsoundroseinthechaplain’sthroat,andhisjawbegantoquiver.Hiseyesfilledwithtears,andhewascrying.HestartedtowardYossarianontiptoetomournbesidehimandsharehiswordlessgrief.Atthatmomentahandgrabbedhimroughlyaroundthearmandabrusquevoicedemanded,"ChaplainShipman?"Heturnedwithsurprisetofaceastout,pugnaciouscolonelwithalargeheadandmustacheandasmooth,floridskin.Hehadneverseenthemanbefore."Yes.Whatisit?"Thefingersgraspingthechaplain’sarmwerehurtinghim,andhetriedinvaintosquirmloose.

           "Comealong."Thechaplainpulledbackinfrightenedconfusion.

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