451 по фаренгейту

           Hecutoffitsterribleemptiness,drewback,andgavetheentireroomagiftofonehugebrightyellowflowerofburning. Thefire-proofplasticsheathoneverythingwascutwideandthehousebegantoshudderwithflame. 

           "Whenyou’requitefinished,"saidBeattybehindhim. "You’reunderarrest." 

           Thehousefellinredcoalsandblackash. Itbeddeditselfdowninsleepypink-greycinders andasmokeplumeblewoverit,risingandwavingslowlybackandforthinthesky. Itwasthree-thirtyinthemorning. Thecrowddrewbackintothehouses; thegreattentsofthecircushadslumpedintocharcoalandrubbleandtheshowwaswellover. 

           Montagstoodwiththeflame-throwerinhislimphands, greatislandsofperspirationdrenchinghisarmpits,hisfacesmearedwithsoot. Theotherfiremenwaitedbehindhim,inthedarkness,theirfacesilluminatedfaintlybythesmoulderingfoundation. 

           Montagstartedtospeaktwiceandthenfinallymanagedtoputhisthoughttogether. 

           "Wasitmywifeturnedinthealarm?" 

           Beattynodded. "Butherfriendsturnedinanalarmearlier,thatIletride. Onewayortheother,you’dhavegotit. Itwasprettysilly,quotingpoetryaroundfreeandeasylikethat. Itwastheactofasillydamnsnob. Giveamanafewlinesofverseandhethinkshe’stheLordofallCreation. Youthinkyoucanwalkonwaterwithyourbooks. Well,theworldcangetbyjustfinewithoutthem. Lookwheretheygotyou,inslimeuptoyourlip. IfIstirtheslimewithmylittlefinger,you’lldrown!"