451 по фаренгейту

           Thefiremenwereenoughtocheckthat,nowandthen. No,thecitiesdon’tbotherus. Andyoulooklikehell." 

           Theymovedalongthebankoftheriver,goingsouth. Montagtriedtoseethemen’sfaces,theoldfacesherememberedfromthefirelight,linedandtired. Hewaslookingforabrightness,aresolve,atriumphovertomorrowthathardlyseemedtobethere. Perhapshehadexpectedtheirfacestoburnandglitterwiththeknowledgetheycarried,toglowaslanternsglow,withthelightinthem. Butallthelighthadcomefromthecampfire,andthesemenhadseemednodifferentfromanyotherswhohadrunalongrace,searchedalongsearch,seengoodthingsdestroyed, andnow,verylate,weregatheringtowaitfortheendofthepartyandtheblowingoutofthelamps. Theyweren’tatallcertainthatthethingstheycarriedintheirheadsmightmakeeveryfuturedawnglowwithapurerlight,theyweresureofnothingsavethatthebookswereonfilebehindtheirquieteyes, thebookswerewaiting,withtheirpagesuncut,forthecustomerswhomightcomebyinlateryears,somewithcleanandsomewithdirtyfingers. 

           Montagsquintedfromonefacetoanotherastheywalked. 

           "Don’tjudgeabookbyitscover,"someonesaid. 

           Andtheyalllaughedquietly,movingdownstream. 

           Therewasashriekandthejetsfromthecityweregoneoverheadlongbeforethemenlookedup. Montagstaredbackatthecity,fardowntheriver,onlyafaintglownow. 

           "Mywife’sbackthere." 

           "I’msorrytohearthat.Thecitieswon’tdowellinthenextfewdays,"saidGranger.