451 по фаренгейту
The Sieve and the Sand
Mildred’smouthtwitched. "Seewhatyou’redoing?You’llruinus!Who’smoreimportant,meorthatBible?" Shewasbeginningtoshrieknow,sittingtherelikeawaxdollmeltinginitsownheat.
HecouldhearBeatty’svoice. "Sitdown,Montag.Watch. Delicately,likethepetalsofaflower.Lightthefirstpage,lightthesecondpage. Eachbecomesablackbutterfly.Beautiful,eh? Lightthethirdpagefromthesecondandsoon,chainsmoking,chapterbychapter, allthesillythingsthewordsmean,allthefalsepromises,allthesecond-handnotionsandtime-wornphilosophies." TheresatBeatty,perspiringgently,thefloorlitteredwithswarmsofblackmothsthathaddiedinasinglestorm
Mildredstoppedscreamingasquicklyasshestarted. Montagwasnotlistening. "There’sonlyonethingtodo,"hesaid. "SometimebeforetonightwhenIgivethebooktoBeatty,I’vegottohaveaduplicatemade."
"You’llbeherefortheWhiteClowntonight,andtheladiescomingover?"criedMildred.
Montagstoppedatthedoor,withhisbackturned. "Millie?"
Asilence "What?"
"Millie?DoestheWhiteClownloveyou?"
Noanswer.
"Millie,does—"Helickedhislips."Doesyour‘family’loveyou, loveyouverymuch,loveyouwithalltheirheartandsoul,Millie?"
Hefeltherblinkingslowlyatthebackofhisneck.
