-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джон Фоулз
-
- Волхв
-
- Стр. 125/136
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
A
girl
the
girl
on
the
other
end
didn
’
t
know
,
but
"
I
think
she
’
s
a
friend
of
Ann
’
s
"
had
taken
over
the
flat
;
she
hadn
’
t
seen
her
"
for
weeks
.
"
Yes
,
she
had
blonde
hair
;
actually
she
only
saw
her
twice
;
yes
,
she
thought
she
was
Australian
.
Back
in
my
room
I
remembered
the
flower
in
my
buttonhole
.
It
was
very
wilted
,
but
I
took
it
out
of
the
coat
I
had
been
wearing
and
stuck
it
in
a
glass
of
water
.
I
woke
up
late
,
having
finally
slept
sounder
than
I
expected
.
I
lay
in
bed
for
a
while
,
listening
to
the
street
noises
down
below
,
thinking
about
Alison
.
I
tried
to
recall
exactly
what
her
expression
had
been
,
whether
there
was
any
humor
,
any
sympathy
,
an
indication
of
anything
,
good
or
bad
,
in
her
small
standing
there
.
I
could
understand
the
timing
of
her
resurrection
.
As
soon
as
I
got
back
to
London
I
should
have
found
out
;
so
it
had
to
be
in
Athens
.
And
now
I
was
to
hunt
for
her
.
I
wanted
to
see
her
,
I
knew
I
wanted
to
see
her
desperately
,
to
dig
or
beat
the
truth
out
of
her
,
to
let
her
know
how
vile
her
betrayal
was
.
To
let
her
know
that
even
if
she
crawled
round
the
equator
on
her
knees
I
could
never
forgive
her
.
That
I
was
finished
with
her
.
Disgusted
by
her
.
As
disintoxicated
of
her
as
I
was
of
Lily
.
I
thought
,
Christ
,
if
I
could
only
lay
my
hands
on
her
.
But
the
one
thing
I
would
not
do
was
hunt
for
her
.
Then
,
having
a
shower
,
I
began
to
sing
.
Because
the
masque
was
not
over
.
Because
,
though
I
would
not
consciously
admit
it
,
Alison
was
alive
.
Because
I
knew
there
must
be
a
confrontation
between
us
.
And
I
would
lure
her
on
,
lead
her
into
believing
that
a
reconciliation
was
possible
.
I
thought
,
if
I
ever
get
a
chance
of
making
her
fall
in
love
with
me
again
.
Such
a
savage
revenge
I
would
have
on
her
.
On
all
of
them
.
That
cat
.
This
time
I
would
use
that
cat
.
And
I
only
had
to
wait
.
They
would
bring
her
to
me
now
.
I
went
down
to
a
noon
breakfast
;
and
the
first
thing
I
discovered
was
that
I
did
not
have
to
wait
.
For
there
was
another
letter
by
hand
for
me
.
This
time
it
contained
just
one
word
:
London
.
I
remembered
that
order
in
the
Earth
:
Termination
by
July
for
all
except
nucleus
.
Nucleus
,
Ashtaroth
the
Unseen
,
was
Alison
.
I
went
to
the
travel
agency
and
got
a
seat
on
the
evening
plane
;
and
seeing
a
map
of
Italy
on
the
wall
,
as
I
stood
waiting
for
the
ticket
to
be
made
out
,
I
discovered
where
Subiaco
was
;
and
decided
that
the
marionette
would
make
the
manipulators
of
strings
wait
a
day
,
for
a
change
.
When
I
came
out
I
went
into
the
biggest
bookshop
in
Athens
,
on
the
corner
of
Stadiou
,
and
asked
for
a
book
on
the
identification
of
flowers
.
My
belated
attempt
at
resuscitation
had
not
been
successful
,
and
I
had
had
to
throw
the
buttonhole
away
.
The
assistant
had
nothing
in
English
,
but
there
was
a
good
French
flora
,
she
said
,
which
gave
the
names
in
several
languages
.
I
pretended
to
be
impressed
by
the
pictures
,
then
turned
to
the
index
;
to
Alyssum
,
p
.
69
.
And
there
it
was
,
facing
page
69
:
thin
green
leaves
,
small
white
flowers
,
Alysson
maritime
…
par
fum
de
miel
…
from
the
Greek
a
(
without
)
and
lyssa
(
madness
)
.
Called
this
in
Italian
,
this
in
German
In
English
:
Sweet
Alison
.
La
triomphe
de
la
philosophie
serait
de
jeter
du
jour
sur
l
’
obscurité
des
voies
dont
la
providence
se
sert
pour
parvenir
aux
fins
qu
’
elle
se
propose
sur
l
’
homme
,
et
de
tracer
d
’
après
cela
quelque
plan
de
conduite
qui
put
faire
connaitre
a
ce
maiheureux
individu
bipède
,
perpétnellement
ballotté
par
les
caprices
de
cet
étre
qui
dit
-
on
le
dirige
aussi
despotiquement
,
to
manière
dont
il
taut
qu
’
il
interprète
les
décrets
de
cette
providence
sur
lui
.
De
Sade
,
Les
Infortunes
de
to
VertuRome
.
In
my
mind
Greece
lay
weeks
,
not
the
real
hours
,
behind
.
The
sun
shone
as
certainly
,
the
people
were
far
more
elegant
,
the
architecture
and
the
art
much
richer
,
but
it
was
as
if
the
Italians
,
like
their
Roman
ancestors
,
wore
a
great
mask
of
luxury
,
a
cosmetic
of
the
overindulged
senses
,
between
the
light
,
the
truth
,
and
their
real
selves
.
I
couldn
’
t
stand
the
loss
of
the
beautiful
nakedness
,
the
humanity
of
Greece
,
and
so
I
couldn
’
t
stand
the
sight
of
the
opulent
,
animal
Romans
;
as
one
sometimes
cannot
stand
one
’
s
own
face
in
a
mirror
.
Early
the
morning
after
my
arrival
I
caught
a
local
train
out
towards
Tivoli
and
the
Alban
hills
.
After
a
long
bus
ride
I
had
lunch
at
Subiaco
and
then
walked
up
a
road
above
a
green
chasm
.
A
lane
branched
off
into
a
deserted
glen
.
I
could
hear
the
sound
of
running
water
far
below
,
the
singing
of
birds
.
The
road
came
to
an
end
,
and
a
path
led
up
through
a
cool
grove
of
ilex
,
and
then
tapered
out
into
a
narrow
flight
of
steps
that
twisted
up
around
a
wall
of
rock
.
The
monastery
came
into
sight
,
clinging
like
an
Orthodox
Greek
monastery
,
like
a
martin
’
s
nest
,
to
the
cliff
.
A
Gothic
loggia
looked
out
prettily
over
the
green
ravine
,
over
a
little
apron
of
cultivated
terraces
falling
below
.
Fine
frescoes
on
the
inner
wall
;
coolness
,
silence
.
There
was
an
old
monk
in
a
black
habit
sitting
behind
the
door
through
to
an
inner
gallery
.
I
asked
if
I
could
see
John
Leverrier
.
I
said
,
an
Englishman
,
on
a
retreat
.
Luckily
I
had
his
letter
ready
to
show
.
The
old
man
carefully
deciphered
the
signature
,
then
nodded
and
silently
disappeared
down
into
some
lower
level
of
the
monastery
.
I
went
on
into
a
hall
.
A
series
of
macabre
murals
:
death
pricking
a
young
falconer
with
his
longsword
;
a
medieval
strip
-
cartoon
of
a
girl
,
first
titivating
herself
in
front
of
a
glass
,
then
fresh
in
her
coffin
,
then
with
the
bones
beginning
to
erupt
through
the
skin
,
then
as
a
skeleton
.
There
was
the
sound
of
someone
laughing
,
an
old
monk
with
an
amused
face
scolding
a
younger
one
in
French
as
they
passed
through
the
hall
behind
me
.
Oh
,
si
tu
penses
que
le
football
est
un
digne
su
jet
de
meditation
…
Then
another
monk
appeared
;
and
I
knew
,
with
an
icy
shock
,
that
this
was
Leverrier
.
He
was
tall
,
very
close
-
cut
hair
,
with
a
thin
-
checked
brown
face
,
and
glasses
with
"
standard
"
National
Health
frames
;
unmistakably
English
.
He
made
a
little
gesture
,
asking
if
it
was
I
who
had
asked
for
him
.
"
I
’
m
Nicholas
Urfe
.
From
Phraxos
.
"
He
managed
to
look
amazed
,
shy
,
and
annoyed
,
all
at
the
same
time
.
After
a
long
moment
’
s
hesitation
,
he
held
out
his
hand
.
It
seemed
dry
and
cold
;
mine
was
stickily
hot
from
the
walk
.
He
was
nearly
four
inches
taller
than
myself
,
and
as
many
years
older
,
and
he
spoke
with
a
trace
of
the
incisiveness
that
young
dons
sometimes
affect
.
"
You
’
ve
come
all
this
way
?
"
"
It
was
easy
to
stop
off
at
Rome
.
"
"
I
thought
I
’
d
made
it
clear
that
—
"
"
Yes
you
did
,
but
…
"
We
both
smiled
bleakly
at
the
broken
-
ended
sentences
.
He
looked
me
in
the
eyes
,
affirming
decision
.
"
I
’
m
afraid
your
visit
must
still
be
considered
in
vain
.
"
"
I
honestly
had
no
idea
that
you
were
…
"
I
waved
vaguely
at
his
habit
.
"
I
thought
you
signed
your
letters
…
"
"
Yours
in
Christ
?
"
He
smiled
thinly
.
"
I
am
afraid
that
even
here
we
are
susceptible
to
the
forces
of
antipretention
.
"
He
looked
down
,
and
we
stood
awkwardly
.
He
came
,
as
if
impatient
with
our
awkwardness
,
to
a
kinder
decision
;
some
mollification
.
"
Well
.
Now
you
are
here
—
let
me
show
you
round
.
"
I
wanted
to
say
that
I
hadn
’
t
come
as
a
tourist
,
but
he
was
already
leading
the
way
through
to
an
inner
courtyard
.
I
was
shown
the
traditional
ravens
and
crows
,
the
Holy
Bramble
,
which
put
forth
roses
when
Saint
Benedict
rolled
on
it
—
as
always
on
such
occasions
the
holiness
of
self
-
mortification
paled
in
my
too
literal
mind
beside
the
vision
of
a
naked
man
pounding
over
the
hard
earth
and
taking
a
long
jump
into
a
blackberry
bush
…
ow
!
yarouch
!
…
and
I
found
the
Peruginos
easier
to
feel
reverence
for
.
I
discovered
absolutely
nothing
about
the
summer
of
1951
,
though
I
discovered
a
little
more
about
Leverrier
.
He
was
at
Sacro
Speco
for
only
a
few
weeks
,
having
just
finished
his
novitiate
at
some
monastery
in
Switzerland
.
He
had
been
to
Cambridge
and
read
history
,
he
spoke
fluent
Italian
,
he
was
"
rather
unjustifiably
believed
to
be
"
an
authority
on
the
pre
-
Reformation
monastic
orders
in
England
,
which
was
why
he
was
at
Sacro
Speco
—
to
consult
sources
in
the
famous
library
;
and
he
had
not
been
back
to
Greece
since
he
left
it
.
He
remained
very
much
an
English
intellectual
,
rather
self
-
conscious
,
aware
that
he
must
look
as
if
he
were
playing
at
being
a
monk
,
dressing
up
,
and
even
a
little
,
complicatedly
,
vain
about
it
.
Finally
he
took
me
down
some
steps
and
out
into
the
open
air
below
the
monastery
.
I
perfunctorily
admired
the
vegetable
and
vineyard
terraces
.
He
led
the
way
to
a
wooden
seat
under
a
fig
tree
a
little
farther
on
.
We
sat
.
He
did
not
look
at
me
.
"
This
is
very
unsatisfactory
for
you
.
But
I
warned
you
.
"
"
It
’
s
a
relief
to
meet
a
fellow
victim
.
Even
if
he
is
mute
.
"
He
stared
out
across
a
box
-
bordered
parterre
into
the
blue
heat
of
the
sunbaked
ravine
.
I
could
hear
water
rushing
down
in
the
depths
.
"
A
fellow
.
Not
a
victim
.
"
"
I
simply
wanted
to
compare
notes
.
"
He
paused
,
then
said
,
"
The
essence
of
…
his
…
system
is
surely
that
you
learn
not
to
’
compare
notes
.
"
He
made
the
phrase
sound
repellent
;
cheap
.
His
wanting
me
to
go
was
all
but
spoken
.
I
stole
a
look
at
him
.
"
Would
you
be
here
now
if
…
"
"
A
lift
on
the
road
one
has
already
long
been
traveling
explains
when
.
Not
why
.
"
"
Our
experiences
must
have
varied
very
widely
.
"
"
Why
should
they
be
similar
?
Are
you
a
Catholic
?
"
I
shook
my
head
.
"
A
Christian
even
?
"
I
shook
my
head
again
.
He
shrugged
.
He
had
dark
shadows
under
his
eyes
,
as
if
he
was
tired
.
"
But
I
do
believe
in
…
charity
?
"
"
My
dear
man
,
you
don
’
t
want
charity
from
me
.
You
want
confessions
I
am
not
prepared
to
make
.
In
my
view
I
am
being
charitable
in
not
making
them
.
In
my
position
you
would
understand
.
"
He
added
,
"
And
at
my
remove
you
will
understand
.
"
His
voice
was
set
cold
;
there
was
a
silence
.
He
said
,
"
I
’
m
sorry
.
You
force
me
to
be
more
brusque
than
I
wish
.
"
"
I
’
d
better
go
.
"
He
seized
his
chance
,
and
stood
up
.
"
I
intend
nothing
personal
.
"
"
Of
course
.
"
"
Let
me
see
you
to
the
gate
.
"
We
walked
back
;
into
the
whitewashed
door
carved
through
the
rock
,
up
past
doors
that
were
like
prison
cells
,
and
out
into
the
hall
with
the
death
murals
.
He
said
,
"
I
meant
to
ask
you
about
the
school
.
There
was
a
boy
called
Aphendakis
,
very
promising
.
I
coached
him
.
"
We
lingered
a
little
in
the
loggia
,
beside
the
Peruginos
,
exchanging
sentences
about
the
school
.
I
could
see
that
he
was
not
really
interested
,
was
merely
making
an
effort
to
be
pleasant
;
to
humiliate
his
pride
.
But
even
in
that
he
was
self
-
conscious
.
We
shook
hands
.
He
said
,
"
This
is
a
great
European
shrine
.
And
we
are
told
that
our
visitors
—
whatever
their
beliefs
—
should
leave
it
feeling
…
I
think
the
words
are
’
refreshed
and
consoled
.
"
He
paused
as
if
I
might
want
to
object
,
to
sneer
,
but
I
said
nothing
.
"
I
must
ask
you
once
again
to
believe
that
I
am
silent
for
your
sake
as
well
as
mine
.
"
"
I
’
ll
try
to
believe
it
"
He
gave
a
formal
sort
of
bow
,
more
Italian
than
English
;
and
I
went
down
the
rock
staircase
to
the
path
through
the
ilexes
.
I
had
to
wait
till
evening
in
Subiaco
for
a
bus
back
.
It
ran
through
long
green
valleys
,
under
hilltop
villages
,
past
aspens
already
yellowing
into
autumn
.
The
sky
turned
through
the
softest
blues
to
a
vesperal
amber
-
pink
.
Old
peasants
sat
at
their
doorways
;
some
of
them
had
Greek
faces
,
inscrutable
,
noble
,
at
peace
.
I
felt
,
perhaps
because
I
had
drunk
almost
a
whole
bottle
of
Verdicchio
while
I
waited
,
that
I
belonged
,
and
would
forever
belong
,
to
an
older
world
than
Leverrier
’
s
.
I
didn
’
t
like
him
,
or
his
religion
.
And
this
not
liking
him
,
this
halfdrunken
love
of
the
ancient
,
unchangeable
Greco
-
Latin
world
seemed
to
merge
.
I
was
a
pagan
,
at
best
a
stoic
,
at
worst
a
voluptuary
,
and
would
remain
forever
so
.
Waiting
for
the
train
,
I
got
more
drunk
.
A
man
at
the
station
bar
managed
to
make
me
understand
that
an
indigo
-
blue
hilltop
under
the
lemon
-
green
sky
to
the
west
was
where
the
poet
Horace
had
had
his
farm
.
I
drank
to
the
Sabine
hill
;
better
one
Horace
than
ten
thousand
Saint
Benedicts
;
better
one
poem
than
ten
thousand
sermons
.
Much
later
I
realized
that
perhaps
Leverrier
,
in
this
case
,
would
have
agreed
;
because
he
too
had
chosen
exile
;
because
there
are
times
when
silence
is
a
poem
.
If
Rome
,
a
city
of
the
vulgar
living
,
had
been
depressing
after
Greece
,
London
,
a
city
of
the
drab
dead
,
was
fifty
times
worse
.
I
had
forgotten
the
innumerability
of
the
place
,
its
ugliness
,
its
termite
density
after
the
sparsities
of
the
Aegean
.
It
was
like
mud
after
diamonds
,
dank
undergrowth
after
sunlit
marble
;
and
as
the
airline
bus
crawled
on
its
way
through
that
endless
suburb
that
lies
between
Northolt
and
Kensington
I
wondered
why
anyone
should
,
or
could
,
ever
return
of
his
own
free
will
to
such
a
landscape
,
such
a
society
,
such
a
climate
.
Flatulent
white
clouds
drifted
listlessly
in
a
gray
-
blue
sky
;
and
I
could
hear
people
saying
"
Lovely
day
,
isn
’
t
it
?
"
But
all
those
tired
greens
,
grays
,
browns
…
they
seemed
to
compress
the
movements
of
the
Londoners
we
passed
into
a
ubiquitous
uniformity
.
It
was
something
I
had
become
too
familiar
with
to
notice
in
the
Greeks
—
how
each
face
there
springs
unique
and
sharp
from
its
background
.
No
Greek
is
like
any
other
Greek
;
and
every
English
face
seemed
,
that
day
,
like
every
other
English
face
.
I
got
into
a
hotel
near
the
air
terminal
about
four
o
’
clock
and
tried
to
decide
what
to
do
.
Within
ten
minutes
I
picked
up
the
phone
and
dialed
Ann
Taylor
’
s
number
.
There
was
no
answer
.
Half
an
hour
later
I
tried
again
,
and
again
there
was
no
answer
.
I
forced
myself
to
read
a
magazine
for
an
hour
;
then
I
failed
a
third
time
to
get
an
answer
.
I
found
a
taxi
and
drove
round
to
Russell
Square
.
I
was
intensely
excited
;
the
idea
that
Alison
would
be
waiting
for
me
.
Some
clue
.
Something
would
happen
.
