451 по фаренгейту
It was a pleasure to burn
Iliketosmellthingsandlookatthings, andsometimesstayupallnight,walking, andwatchthesunrise."
Theywalkedonagaininsilence andfinallyshesaid,thoughtfully, "Youknow,I’mnotafraidofyouatall."
Hewassurprised."Whyshouldyoube?"
"Somanypeopleare. Afraidoffiremen,Imean. Butyou’rejustaman,afterall..." Hesawhimselfinhereyes,suspendedintwoshiningdropsofbrightwater,himself darkandtiny,infinedetail,thelinesabouthismouth,everythingthere, asifhereyesweretwomiraculousbitsofvioletamber thatmightcaptureandholdhimintact. Herface,turnedtohimnow,wasfragilemilkcrystalwithasoftandconstantlightinit. Itwasnotthehystericallightofelectricitybut-what? Butthestrangelycomfortableandrareandgentlyflatteringlightofthecandle. Onetime,whenhewasachild,inapower-failure, hismotherhadfoundandlitalastcandle andtherehadbeenabriefhourofrediscovery, ofsuchilluminationthatspacelostitsvastdimensionsanddrewcomfortablyaroundthem, andthey,motherandson,alone,transformed, hopingthatthepowermightnotcomeonagaintoosoon....
AndthenClarisseMcClellansaid:
"DoyoumindifIask? Howlonghaveyouworkedatbeingafireman?"
"SinceIwastwenty,tenyearsago."
"Doyoueverreadanyofthebooksyoubum?"
Helaughed. "That’sagainstthelaw!"
