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- Дэвид Герберт Лоуренс
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- Любовник леди Чаттерлей
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- Стр. 114/388
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The
slim
little
chick
was
greyish
brown
with
dark
markings
,
and
it
was
the
most
alive
little
spark
of
a
creature
in
seven
kingdoms
at
that
moment
.
Connie
crouched
to
watch
in
a
sort
of
ecstasy
.
Life
,
life
!
pure
,
sparky
,
fearless
new
life
!
New
life
!
So
tiny
and
so
utterly
without
fear
!
Even
when
it
scampered
a
little
,
scrambling
into
the
coop
again
,
and
disappeared
under
the
hen
’
s
feathers
in
answer
to
the
mother
hen
’
s
wild
alarm
-
cries
,
it
was
not
really
frightened
,
it
took
it
as
a
game
,
the
game
of
living
.
For
in
a
moment
a
tiny
sharp
head
was
poking
through
the
gold
-
brown
feathers
of
the
hen
,
and
eyeing
the
Cosmos
.
Connie
was
fascinated
.
And
at
the
same
time
,
never
had
she
felt
so
acutely
the
agony
of
her
own
female
forlornness
.
It
was
becoming
unbearable
.
She
had
only
one
desire
now
,
to
go
to
the
clearing
in
the
wood
.
The
rest
was
a
kind
of
painful
dream
.
But
sometimes
she
was
kept
all
day
at
Wragby
,
by
her
duties
as
hostess
.
And
then
she
felt
as
if
she
too
were
going
blank
,
just
blank
and
insane
.
One
evening
,
guests
or
no
guests
,
she
escaped
after
tea
.
It
was
late
,
and
she
fled
across
the
park
like
one
who
fears
to
be
called
back
.
The
sun
was
setting
rosy
as
she
entered
the
wood
,
but
she
pressed
on
among
the
flowers
.
The
light
would
last
long
overhead
.
She
arrived
at
the
clearing
flushed
and
semi
-
conscious
.
The
keeper
was
there
,
in
his
shirt
-
sleeves
,
just
closing
up
the
coops
for
the
night
,
so
the
little
occupants
would
be
safe
.
But
still
one
little
trio
was
pattering
about
on
tiny
feet
,
alert
drab
mites
,
under
the
straw
shelter
,
refusing
to
be
called
in
by
the
anxious
mother
.
’
I
had
to
come
and
see
the
chickens
!
’
she
said
,
panting
,
glancing
shyly
at
the
keeper
,
almost
unaware
of
him
.
’
Are
there
any
more
?
’
’
Thurty
-
six
so
far
!
’
he
said
.
’
Not
bad
!
’
He
too
took
a
curious
pleasure
in
watching
the
young
things
come
out
.
Connie
crouched
in
front
of
the
last
coop
.
The
three
chicks
had
run
in
.
But
still
their
cheeky
heads
came
poking
sharply
through
the
yellow
feathers
,
then
withdrawing
,
then
only
one
beady
little
head
eyeing
forth
from
the
vast
mother
-
body
.
’
I
’
d
love
to
touch
them
,
’
she
said
,
putting
her
fingers
gingerly
through
the
bars
of
the
coop
.
But
the
mother
-
hen
pecked
at
her
hand
fiercely
,
and
Connie
drew
back
startled
and
frightened
.
