-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Дэн Браун
-
- Ангелы и демоны
-
- Стр. 6/583
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Robert
Langdon
wandered
barefoot
through
his
deserted
Massachusetts
Victorian
home
and
nursed
his
ritual
insomnia
remedy
—
a
mug
of
steaming
Nestlé
’
s
Quik
.
The
April
moon
filtered
through
the
bay
windows
and
played
on
the
oriental
carpets
.
Langdon
’
s
colleagues
often
joked
that
his
place
looked
more
like
an
anthropology
museum
than
a
home
.
His
shelves
were
packed
with
religious
artifacts
from
around
the
world
—
an
ekuaba
from
Ghana
,
a
gold
cross
from
Spain
,
a
cycladic
idol
from
the
Aegean
,
and
even
a
rare
woven
boccus
from
Borneo
,
a
young
warrior
’
s
symbol
of
perpetual
youth
.
As
Langdon
sat
on
his
brass
Maharishi
’
s
chest
and
savored
the
warmth
of
the
chocolate
,
the
bay
window
caught
his
reflection
.
The
image
was
distorted
and
pale
…
like
a
ghost
.
An
aging
ghost
,
he
thought
,
cruelly
reminded
that
his
youthful
spirit
was
living
in
a
mortal
shell
.
Although
not
overly
handsome
in
a
classical
sense
,
the
forty
-
five
-
year
-
old
Langdon
had
what
his
female
colleagues
referred
to
as
an
"
erudite
"
appeal
—
wisps
of
gray
in
his
thick
brown
hair
,
probing
blue
eyes
,
an
arrestingly
deep
voice
,
and
the
strong
,
carefree
smile
of
a
collegiate
athlete
.
A
varsity
diver
in
prep
school
and
college
,
Langdon
still
had
the
body
of
a
swimmer
,
a
toned
,
six
-
foot
physique
that
he
vigilantly
maintained
with
fifty
laps
a
day
in
the
university
pool
.
Langdon
’
s
friends
had
always
viewed
him
as
a
bit
of
an
enigma
—
a
man
caught
between
centuries
.
On
weekends
he
could
be
seen
lounging
on
the
quad
in
blue
jeans
,
discussing
computer
graphics
or
religious
history
with
students
;
other
times
he
could
be
spotted
in
his
Harris
tweed
and
paisley
vest
,
photographed
in
the
pages
of
upscale
art
magazines
at
museum
openings
where
he
had
been
asked
to
lecture
.
Although
a
tough
teacher
and
strict
disciplinarian
,
Langdon
was
the
first
to
embrace
what
he
hailed
as
the
"
lost
art
of
good
clean
fun
.
"
He
relished
recreation
with
an
infectious
fanaticism
that
had
earned
him
a
fraternal
acceptance
among
his
students
.
His
campus
nickname
—
"
The
Dolphin
"
—
was
a
reference
both
to
his
affable
nature
and
his
legendary
ability
to
dive
into
a
pool
and
outmaneuver
the
entire
opposing
squad
in
a
water
polo
match
.
As
Langdon
sat
alone
,
absently
gazing
into
the
darkness
,
the
silence
of
his
home
was
shattered
again
,
this
time
by
the
ring
of
his
fax
machine
Too
exhausted
to
be
annoyed
,
Langdon
forced
a
tired
chuckle
.
God
’
s
people
,
he
thought
.
Two
thousand
years
of
waiting
for
their
Messiah
,
and
they
’
re
still
persistent
as
hell
.
Wearily
,
he
returned
his
empty
mug
to
the
kitchen
and
walked
slowly
to
his
oak
-
paneled
study
.
The
incoming
fax
lay
in
the
tray
.
Sighing
,
he
scooped
up
the
paper
and
looked
at
it
.
