Поворот винта

           Achievingthistransit,Iuncoveredtheglasswithoutasoundand,applyingmyfacetothepane,wasable,thedarknesswithoutbeingmuchlessthanwithin,toseethatIcommandedtherightdirection.ThenIsawsomethingmore.Themoonmadethenightextraordinarilypenetrableandshowedmeonthelawnaperson,diminishedbydistance,whostoodtheremotionlessandasiffascinated,lookinguptowhereIhadappeared—looking,thatis,notsomuchstraightatmeasatsomethingthatwasapparentlyaboveme.Therewasclearlyanotherpersonaboveme—therewasapersononthetower;butthepresenceonthelawnwasnotintheleastwhatIhadconceivedandhadconfidentlyhurriedtomeet.Thepresenceonthelawn—IfeltsickasImadeitout—waspoorlittleMileshimself.