451 по фаренгейту
The Sieve and the Sand
Soitwasnow,inhisownparlour,withthesewomentwistingintheirchairsunderhisgaze, lightingcigarettes,blowingsmoke,touchingtheirsun-firedhairandexaminingtheirblazingfingernailsasiftheyhadcaughtfirefromhislook. Theirfacesgrewhauntedwithsilence. TheyleanedforwardatthesoundofMontag’sswallowinghisfinalbiteoffood. Theylistenedtohisfeverishbreathing. Thethreeemptywallsoftheroomwerelikethepalebrowsofsleepinggiantsnow,emptyofdreams. Montagfeltthatifyoutouchedthesethreestaringbrowsyouwouldfeelafinesaltsweatonyourfinger-tips. Theperspirationgatheredwiththesilenceandthesub-audibletremblingaroundandaboutandinthewomenwhowereburningwithtension. Anymomenttheymighthissalongsputteringhissandexplode.
Montagmovedhislips.
"Let’stalk."
Thewomenjerkedandstared.
"How’reyourchildren,Mrs.Phelps?"heasked.
"YouknowIhaven’tany! Nooneinhisrightmind,theGoodLordknows,wouldhavechildren!"saidMrs.Phelps, notquitesurewhyshewasangrywiththisman.
"Iwouldn’tsaythat,"saidMrs.Bowles."I’vehadtwochildrenbyCaesariansection. Nousegoingthroughallthatagonyforababy. Theworldmustreproduce,youknow,theracemustgoon. Besides,theysometimeslookjustlikeyou,andthat’snice. TwoCaesarianstamedthetrick,yes,sir.Oh,mydoctorsaid,Caesariansaren’tnecessary; you’vegotthe,hipsforit,everything’snormal,butIinsisted."
