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- Диана Уинн Джонс
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- Стр. 166/192
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“
My
sorrow
revealed
,
”
Howl
said
pathetically
.
“
I
was
born
an
unmusical
Welshman
.
Did
you
tell
Sophie
all
of
it
?
Or
do
you
really
know
what
the
Witch
was
trying
to
find
out
?
”
“
She
wanted
to
know
about
Wales
,
”
said
Percival
.
“
I
thought
that
was
it
,
”
Howl
said
soberly
.
“
Ah
,
well
.
”
He
went
away
into
the
bathroom
,
where
he
was
gone
for
the
next
two
hours
.
During
that
time
Percival
played
a
number
of
tunes
on
the
guitar
in
a
slow
,
thoughtful
way
,
as
if
he
was
teaching
himself
how
to
,
while
Michael
crawled
about
the
floor
with
a
smoking
rag
,
trying
to
get
rid
of
the
weed
-
killer
.
Sophie
sat
in
the
chair
and
said
not
a
word
Calcifer
kept
bobbing
up
and
peeping
at
her
,
and
going
down
again
under
his
logs
.
Howl
came
out
of
the
bathroom
with
his
suit
glossy
black
,
his
hair
glossy
white
,
in
a
cloud
of
steam
smelling
of
gentians
.
“
I
may
be
back
quite
late
,
”
he
said
to
Michael
.
“
It
’
s
going
to
be
Midsummer
Day
after
midnight
,
and
the
Witch
may
well
try
something
.
So
keep
all
the
defenses
up
,
and
remember
all
I
told
you
,
please
.
”
“
All
right
,
”
Michael
said
,
putting
the
steaming
remains
of
the
rag
in
the
sink
.
Howl
turned
to
Percival
.
“
I
think
I
know
what
’
s
happened
to
you
,
”
he
said
.
“
It
’
s
going
to
be
a
fair
job
sorting
you
out
,
but
I
’
ll
have
a
go
tomorrow
after
I
get
back
.
”
Howl
went
to
the
door
and
stopped
with
this
hand
still
on
the
knob
.
“
Sophie
,
are
you
still
not
talking
to
me
?
”
he
asked
miserably
.
Sophie
knew
Howl
could
sound
unhappy
in
heaven
if
it
suited
him
.
And
he
had
just
used
her
to
get
information
out
of
Percival
.
“
No
!
”
she
snarled
.
Howl
sighed
and
went
out
.
Sophie
looked
up
and
saw
that
the
knob
was
pointing
black
-
down
.
That
does
it
!
she
thought
.
I
don
’
t
care
if
it
is
Midsummer
Day
tomorrow
!
I
’
m
leaving
.
Midsummer
Day
dawned
.
About
the
same
moment
that
it
did
,
Howl
crashed
in
through
the
door
with
such
noise
that
Sophie
shot
up
in
her
cubbyhole
,
convinced
that
the
Witch
was
hot
on
his
heels
.
