-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Диана Уинн Джонс
-
- Ходячий замок
-
- Стр. 113/192
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Michael
was
not
there
.
Neither
was
Howl
,
but
that
was
a
small
relief
to
Sophie
.
She
thought
she
might
have
guessed
it
would
be
like
this
!
The
Count
of
Catterack
was
obviously
a
person
who
never
got
a
thing
right
,
and
she
was
another
herself
.
It
was
probably
lucky
she
had
even
found
the
way
out
.
By
now
she
was
so
tired
and
hot
and
dejected
that
she
decided
not
to
wait
for
Michael
.
She
wanted
to
sit
down
in
the
fireside
chair
and
tell
Calcifer
the
mess
she
had
made
of
things
.
She
hobbled
down
the
grand
staircase
.
She
hobbled
down
a
grand
avenue
.
She
stumped
along
another
,
where
spires
and
towers
and
gilded
roofs
circled
round
in
giddy
profusion
.
And
she
realized
it
was
worse
than
she
had
thought
.
She
was
lost
.
She
had
absolutely
no
idea
how
to
find
the
disguised
stable
where
the
castle
entrance
was
.
She
turned
up
another
handsome
thoroughfare
at
random
,
but
she
did
not
recognize
that
either
.
By
now
she
did
not
even
know
the
way
back
to
the
Palace
.
She
tried
asking
people
she
met
.
Most
of
them
seemed
as
hot
and
tired
as
she
was
.
“
Wizard
Pendragon
?
”
they
said
.
“
Who
is
he
?
”
Sophie
hobbled
on
hopelessly
.
She
was
near
giving
up
and
sitting
on
the
next
doorstep
for
the
night
,
when
she
passed
the
end
of
the
narrow
street
where
Mrs
.
Pentstemmon
’
s
house
was
.
Ah
!
she
thought
.
I
can
go
and
ask
the
footman
.
He
and
Howl
were
so
friendly
that
he
must
know
where
Howl
lives
.
So
she
turned
down
the
street
.
The
Witch
of
the
Waste
was
coming
up
it
towards
her
.
How
Sophie
recognized
the
Witch
would
be
hard
to
say
.
Her
face
was
different
.
Her
hair
,
instead
of
being
orderly
chestnut
curls
,
was
a
rippling
mass
of
red
,
hanging
almost
to
her
waist
,
and
she
was
dressed
in
floating
flutters
of
auburn
and
pale
yellow
.
Very
cool
and
lovely
she
looked
.
Sophie
knew
her
at
once
.
She
almost
stopped
,
but
not
quite
.
There
’
s
no
reason
she
should
remember
me
,
Sophie
thought
.
I
must
be
just
one
of
hundreds
of
people
she
’
s
enchanted
.
And
Sophie
stumped
boldly
on
,
thumping
her
stick
on
the
cobbles
and
reminding
herself
,
in
case
of
trouble
,
that
Mrs
.
Pentstemmon
had
said
that
same
stick
had
become
a
powerful
object
.
That
was
another
mistake
.
The
Witch
came
floating
up
the
little
street
,
smiling
,
twirling
her
parasol
,
followed
by
two
sulky
-
looking
page
boys
in
orange
velvet
.
When
she
came
level
with
Sophie
,
she
stopped
,
and
tawny
perfume
filled
Sophie
’
s
nose
.
“
Why
,
it
’
s
Miss
Hatter
!
”
the
Witch
said
,
laughing
.
“
I
never
forget
a
face
,
particularly
if
I
’
ve
made
it
myself
!
What
are
you
doing
here
,
dressed
up
all
so
fine
?
It
you
’
re
thinking
of
calling
on
that
Mrs
.
Pentstemmon
,
you
can
save
yourself
the
trouble
.
The
old
biddy
’
s
dead
.
”
“
Dead
?
”
said
Sophie
.
She
had
a
silly
impulse
to
add
,
But
she
was
alive
an
hour
ago
!
And
she
stopped
herself
,
because
death
is
like
that
:
people
are
alive
until
they
die
.
“
Yes
.
Dead
,
”
said
the
Witch
.
“
She
refused
to
tell
me
where
someone
was
that
I
want
to
find
.
She
said
,
‘
Over
my
dead
body
!
’
so
I
took
her
at
her
word
.
