451 по фаренгейту

           AndMontagwasoutthebackdoorlightly,runningwiththehalf-emptyvalise. Behindhimheheardthelawn-sprinklingsystemjumpup, fillingthedarkairwithrainthatfellgentlyandthenwithasteadypourallabout,washingonthesidewalks, anddrainingintothealley. Hecarriedafewdropsofthisrainwithhimonhisface. Hethoughtheheardtheoldmancallgood-bye, buthe-wasn’tcertain. 

           Heranveryfastawayfromthehouse,downtowardtheriver. 

           Montagran. 

           HecouldfeeltheHound,likeautumn,comecoldanddryandswift, likeawindthatdidn’tstirgrass,thatdidn’tjarwindows ordisturbleaf-shadowsonthewhitesidewalksasitpassed. TheHounddidnottouchtheworld. Itcarrieditssilencewithit,soyoucouldfeelthesilencebuildingupapressurebehindyouallacrosstown. Montagfeltthepressurerising,andran. 

           Hestoppedforbreath,onhiswaytotheriver,topeerthroughdimlylitwindowsofwakenedhouses, andsawthesilhouettesofpeopleinsidewatchingtheirparlourwalls andthereonthewallstheMechanicalHound,abreathofneonvapour, spideredalong,hereandgone,hereandgone! NowatElmTerrace,Lincoln,Oak,Park,andupthealleytowardFaber’shouse. 

           Gopast,thoughtMontag,don’tstop,goon,don’tturnin! 

           Ontheparlourwall,Faber’shouse,withitssprinklersystempulsinginthenightair. 

           TheHoundpaused,quivering. 

           No!Montagheldtothewindowsill.Thisway!Here!