Поворот винта
Chapter 24
Thefacethatwasclosetominewasaswhiteasthefaceagainsttheglass,andoutofitpresentlycameasound,notlownorweak,butasiffrommuchfurtheraway,thatIdranklikeawaftoffragrance.
“Yes—Itookit.”
Atthis,withamoanofjoy,Ienfolded,Idrewhimclose;andwhileIheldhimtomybreast,whereIcouldfeelinthesuddenfeverofhislittlebodythetremendouspulseofhislittleheart,Ikeptmyeyesonthethingatthewindowandsawitmoveandshiftitsposture.Ihavelikenedittoasentinel,butitsslowwheel,foramoment,wasrathertheprowlofabaffledbeast.Mypresentquickenedcourage,however,wassuchthat,nottoomuchtoletitthrough,Ihadtoshade,asitwere,myflame.Meanwhiletheglareofthefacewasagainatthewindow,thescoundrelfixedasiftowatchandwait.ItwastheveryconfidencethatImightnowdefyhim,aswellasthepositivecertitude,bythistime,ofthechild’sunconsciousness,thatmademegoon.“Whatdidyoutakeitfor?”
“Toseewhatyousaidaboutme.”
“Youopenedtheletter?”
“Iopenedit.”
Myeyeswerenow,asIheldhimoffalittleagain,onMiles’sownface,inwhichthecollapseofmockeryshowedmehowcompletewastheravageofuneasiness.Whatwasprodigiouswasthatatlast,bymysuccess,hissensewassealedandhiscommunicationstopped:heknewthathewasinpresence,butknewnotofwhat,andknewstilllessthatIalsowasandthatIdidknow.
