451 по фаренгейту
It was a pleasure to burn
"Havereasontosuspectattic;11No.Elm,City.—E.B."
"ThatwouldbeMrs.Blake,myneighbour,"saidthewoman,readingtheinitials.
"Allright,men,let’sget‘em!"
Nextthingtheywereupinmustyblackness,swingingsilverhatchetsatdoorsthatwere,afterall,unlocked,tumblingthroughlikeboysallrollickandshout. "Hey!" AfountainofbookssprangdownuponMontagasheclimbedshudderingupthesheerstair-well. Howinconvenient!Alwaysbeforeithadbeenlikesnuffingacandle. Thepolicewentfirstandadhesive-tapedthevictim’smouthandbandagedhimoffintotheirglitteringbeetlecars, sowhenyouarrivedyoufoundanemptyhouse. Youweren’thurtinganyone,youwerehurtingonlythings!Andsincethingsreallycouldn’tbehurt,sincethingsfeltnothing,andthingsdon’tscreamorwhimper,asthiswomanmightbegintoscreamandcryout,therewasnothingtoteaseyourconsciencelater. Youweresimplycleaningup.Janitorialwork,essentially.Everythingtoitsproperplace.Quickwiththekerosene!Who’sgotamatch!
Butnow,tonight,someonehadslipped.Thiswomanwasspoilingtheritual. Themenweremakingtoomuchnoise,laughing,jokingtocoverherterribleaccusingsilencebelow. Shemadetheemptyroomsroarwithaccusationandshakedownafinedustofguiltthatwassuckedintheirnostrilsastheyplungedabout. Itwasneithercricketnorcorrect. Montagfeltanimmenseirritation. Sheshouldn’tbehere,ontopofeverything!
Booksbombardedhisshoulders,hisarms,hisupturnedface. Abookalighted,almostobediently,likeawhitepigeon,inhishands,wingsfluttering.
