-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джозеф Конрад
-
- Сердце тьмы
-
- Стр. 2/33
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
And
this
also
,
"
said
Marlow
suddenly
,
"
has
been
one
of
the
dark
places
of
the
earth
.
"
He
was
the
only
man
of
us
who
still
"
followed
the
sea
.
"
The
worst
that
could
be
said
of
him
was
that
he
did
not
represent
his
class
.
He
was
a
seaman
,
but
he
was
a
wanderer
,
too
,
while
most
seamen
lead
,
if
one
may
so
express
it
,
a
sedentary
life
.
Their
minds
are
of
the
stay-at-home
order
,
and
their
home
is
always
with
them
--
the
ship
;
and
so
is
their
country
--
the
sea
.
One
ship
is
very
much
like
another
,
and
the
sea
is
always
the
same
.
In
the
immutability
of
their
surroundings
the
foreign
shores
,
the
foreign
faces
,
the
changing
immensity
of
life
,
glide
past
,
veiled
not
by
a
sense
of
mystery
but
by
a
slightly
disdainful
ignorance
;
for
there
is
nothing
mysterious
to
a
seaman
unless
it
be
the
sea
itself
,
which
is
the
mistress
of
his
existence
and
as
inscrutable
as
Destiny
.
For
the
rest
,
after
his
hours
of
work
,
a
casual
stroll
or
a
casual
spree
on
shore
suffices
to
unfold
for
him
the
secret
of
a
whole
continent
,
and
generally
he
finds
the
secret
not
worth
knowing
.
The
yarns
of
seamen
have
a
direct
simplicity
,
the
whole
meaning
of
which
lies
within
the
shell
of
a
cracked
nut
.
But
Marlow
was
not
typical
(
if
his
propensity
to
spin
yarns
be
excepted
)
,
and
to
him
the
meaning
of
an
episode
was
not
inside
like
a
kernel
but
outside
,
enveloping
the
tale
which
brought
it
out
only
as
a
glow
brings
out
a
haze
,
in
the
likeness
of
one
of
these
misty
halos
that
sometimes
are
made
visible
by
the
spectral
illumination
of
moonshine
.
His
remark
did
not
seem
at
all
surprising
.
It
was
just
like
Marlow
.
It
was
accepted
in
silence
.
No
one
took
the
trouble
to
grunt
even
;
and
presently
he
said
,
very
slow
--
"
I
was
thinking
of
very
old
times
,
when
the
Romans
first
came
here
,
nineteen
hundred
years
ago
--
the
other
day
...
Light
came
out
of
this
river
since
--
you
say
Knights
?
Yes
;
but
it
is
like
a
running
blaze
on
a
plain
,
like
a
flash
of
lightning
in
the
clouds
.
We
live
in
the
flicker
--
may
it
last
as
long
as
the
old
earth
keeps
rolling
!
But
darkness
was
here
yesterday
.
Imagine
the
feelings
of
a
commander
of
a
fine
--
what
d'ye
call
'em
?
--
trireme
in
the
Mediterranean
,
ordered
suddenly
to
the
north
;
run
overland
across
the
Gauls
in
a
hurry
;
put
in
charge
of
one
of
these
craft
the
legionaries
--
a
wonderful
lot
of
handy
men
they
must
have
been
,
too
--
used
to
build
,
apparently
by
the
hundred
,
in
a
month
or
two
,
if
we
may
believe
what
we
read
.
Imagine
him
here
--
the
very
end
of
the
world
,
a
sea
the
colour
of
lead
,
a
sky
the
colour
of
smoke
,
a
kind
of
ship
about
as
rigid
as
a
concertina
--
and
going
up
this
river
with
stores
,
or
orders
,
or
what
you
like
.
Sand-banks
,
marshes
,
forests
,
savages
--
precious
little
to
eat
fit
for
a
civilized
man
,
nothing
but
Thames
water
to
drink
.
No
Falernian
wine
here
,
no
going
ashore
.
Here
and
there
a
military
camp
lost
in
a
wilderness
,
like
a
needle
in
a
bundle
of
hay
--
cold
,
fog
,
tempests
,
disease
,
exile
,
and
death
--
death
skulking
in
the
air
,
in
the
water
,
in
the
bush
.
They
must
have
been
dying
like
flies
here
.
Oh
,
yes
--
he
did
it
.
Did
it
very
well
,
too
,
no
doubt
,
and
without
thinking
much
about
it
either
,
except
afterwards
to
brag
of
what
he
had
gone
through
in
his
time
,
perhaps
.
They
were
men
enough
to
face
the
darkness
.
And
perhaps
he
was
cheered
by
keeping
his
eye
on
a
chance
of
promotion
to
the
fleet
at
Ravenna
by
and
by
,
if
he
had
good
friends
in
Rome
and
survived
the
awful
climate
.
Or
think
of
a
decent
young
citizen
in
a
toga
--
perhaps
too
much
dice
,
you
know
--
coming
out
here
in
the
train
of
some
prefect
,
or
tax-gatherer
,
or
trader
even
,
to
mend
his
fortunes
.
Land
in
a
swamp
,
march
through
the
woods
,
and
in
some
inland
post
feel
the
savagery
,
the
utter
savagery
,
had
closed
round
him
--
all
that
mysterious
life
of
the
wilderness
that
stirs
in
the
forest
,
in
the
jungles
,
in
the
hearts
of
wild
men
.
There
's
no
initiation
either
into
such
mysteries
.
He
has
to
live
in
the
midst
of
the
incomprehensible
,
which
is
also
detestable
.
And
it
has
a
fascination
,
too
,
that
goes
to
work
upon
him
.
The
fascination
of
the
abomination
--
you
know
,
imagine
the
growing
regrets
,
the
longing
to
escape
,
the
powerless
disgust
,
the
surrender
,
the
hate
.
"
He
paused
.
"
Mind
,
"
he
began
again
,
lifting
one
arm
from
the
elbow
,
the
palm
of
the
hand
outwards
,
so
that
,
with
his
legs
folded
before
him
,
he
had
the
pose
of
a
Buddha
preaching
in
European
clothes
and
without
a
lotus-flower
--
"
Mind
,
none
of
us
would
feel
exactly
like
this
.
What
saves
us
is
efficiency
--
the
devotion
to
efficiency
.
But
these
chaps
were
not
much
account
,
really
.
They
were
no
colonists
;
their
administration
was
merely
a
squeeze
,
and
nothing
more
,
I
suspect
.
They
were
conquerors
,
and
for
that
you
want
only
brute
force
--
nothing
to
boast
of
,
when
you
have
it
,
since
your
strength
is
just
an
accident
arising
from
the
weakness
of
others
.
They
grabbed
what
they
could
get
for
the
sake
of
what
was
to
be
got
.
It
was
just
robbery
with
violence
,
aggravated
murder
on
a
great
scale
,
and
men
going
at
it
blind
--
as
is
very
proper
for
those
who
tackle
a
darkness
.
The
conquest
of
the
earth
,
which
mostly
means
the
taking
it
away
from
those
who
have
a
different
complexion
or
slightly
flatter
noses
than
ourselves
,
is
not
a
pretty
thing
when
you
look
into
it
too
much
.
What
redeems
it
is
the
idea
only
.
An
idea
at
the
back
of
it
;
not
a
sentimental
pretence
but
an
idea
;
and
an
unselfish
belief
in
the
idea
--
something
you
can
set
up
,
and
bow
down
before
,
and
offer
a
sacrifice
to
...
.
"
He
broke
off
.
Flames
glided
in
the
river
,
small
green
flames
,
red
flames
,
white
flames
,
pursuing
,
overtaking
,
joining
,
crossing
each
other
--
then
separating
slowly
or
hastily
.
The
traffic
of
the
great
city
went
on
in
the
deepening
night
upon
the
sleepless
river
.
We
looked
on
,
waiting
patiently
--
there
was
nothing
else
to
do
till
the
end
of
the
flood
;
but
it
was
only
after
a
long
silence
,
when
he
said
,
in
a
hesitating
voice
,
"
I
suppose
you
fellows
remember
I
did
once
turn
fresh-water
sailor
for
a
bit
,
"
that
we
knew
we
were
fated
,
before
the
ebb
began
to
run
,
to
hear
about
one
of
Marlow
's
inconclusive
experiences
.
