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- Джон Бакен
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- Запретный лес
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- Стр. 184/195
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"
Renounce
your
master
here
in
his
temple
.
.
.
I
will
give
you
words
if
you
have
none
of
your
own
.
.
.
.
Say
after
me
,
’
I
abhor
and
reject
the
Devil
and
all
his
works
,
and
I
fling
myself
upon
the
mercy
of
God
.
’
Man
,
man
,
it
is
your
immortal
soul
that
trembles
above
the
Pit
.
"
The
huddled
figure
was
still
silent
.
Then
,
after
a
violent
shiver
,
his
voice
came
back
to
him
.
He
began
to
stutter
words
,
words
meaningless
to
David
’
s
ear
.
It
may
be
that
it
was
the
renunciation
of
his
gods
;
but
,
whatever
it
was
,
it
was
not
completed
.
For
suddenly
energy
returned
to
his
limbs
,
and
he
sprang
violently
to
his
feet
.
Madness
glowed
in
his
eyes
;
his
head
was
held
for
a
second
in
a
listening
posture
.
"
They
come
,
"
he
screamed
.
"
The
dogs
!
-
-
the
red
dogs
!
"
David
seized
him
,
but
at
that
moment
the
maniac
’
s
strength
far
exceeded
his
own
.
He
tore
himself
free
with
a
rending
of
his
clothes
.
His
face
was
a
limp
vacancy
of
terror
in
which
the
eyes
glared
unseeingly
.
He
leaped
into
the
air
,
spun
round
,
fell
,
laid
his
ear
to
the
earth
,
and
then
,
with
incredible
swiftness
,
ran
uphill
from
the
glade
.
Once
he
halted
to
listen
,
and
then
,
so
bent
that
he
appeared
to
run
on
all
-
fours
,
and
yelping
like
a
stricken
beast
,
he
vanished
into
the
shades
.
.
.
.
In
a
pause
of
the
wind
David
heard
his
movements
grow
fainter
,
and
he
thought
he
heard
,
too
,
a
murmur
of
voices
as
at
Beltane
and
Lammas
.
It
seemed
to
him
that
these
voices
were
now
like
the
distant
baying
of
hounds
.
Lethargy
returned
upon
David
’
s
soul
.
He
had
done
his
duty
,
and
at
the
last
moment
,
like
Samson
,
had
brought
down
the
false
temple
;
but
what
signified
it
to
one
who
had
no
further
hope
or
purpose
?
He
walked
out
of
the
Wood
as
steeled
to
its
awesomeness
as
to
the
other
common
emotions
of
man
.
His
heart
had
dried
up
within
him
,
and
his
vitality
had
run
down
like
an
unwound
clock
.
He
had
but
the
one
thought
-
-
to
visit
Paradise
again
and
Katrine
’
s
grave
,
and
this
not
for
comfort
but
as
a
step
enjoined
by
duty
to
complete
the
heavy
weight
of
his
loneliness
.
After
that
nothing
mattered
.
His
youth
was
gone
,
and
he
was
become
very
old
.
He
crossed
the
barrier
glen
,
brushed
through
the
catkin
-
laden
hazels
,
and
came
to
his
sacred
glade
.
There
was
the
well
bubbling
darkly
,
and
there
beyond
it
was
the
fresh
-
made
mound
of
turf
.
.
.
.
The
sight
melted
something
within
him
.
He
flung
himself
on
the
grass
and
his
dry
heart
was
loosened
in
tears
.
As
he
wept
he
prayed
,
and
as
he
prayed
he
seemed
to
live
once
again
the
bright
days
when
Katrine
had
sung
to
him
among
the
flowers
Fragments
of
her
songs
came
back
to
him
:
"
There
’
s
comfort
for
the
comfortless
