-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Эрнест Хэмингуэй
-
- По ком звонит колокол
-
- Стр. 333/617
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
What
did
it
say
?
"
Robert
Jordan
had
come
to
Madrid
from
the
Córdoban
Front
and
he
had
the
sudden
stiffening
that
comes
when
some
one
jokes
about
a
thing
which
you
yourself
may
joke
about
but
which
they
may
not
.
"
Tell
me
?
"
"
Nuestra
gloriosa
tropa
siga
avanzando
sin
perder
ni
una
sola
palma
de
terreno
,
"
Karkov
said
in
his
strange
Spanish
.
"
It
didn
’
t
really
say
that
,
"
Robert
Jordan
doubted
.
"
Our
glorious
troops
continue
to
advance
without
losing
a
foot
of
ground
,
"
Karkov
repeated
in
English
.
"
It
is
in
the
communiqué
.
I
will
find
it
for
you
.
"
You
could
remember
the
men
you
knew
who
died
in
the
fighting
around
Pozoblanco
;
but
it
was
a
joke
at
Gaylord
’
s
.
So
that
was
the
way
it
was
at
Gaylord
’
s
now
.
Still
there
had
not
always
been
Gaylord
’
s
and
if
the
situation
was
now
one
which
produced
such
a
thing
as
Gaylord
’
s
out
of
the
survivors
of
the
early
days
,
he
was
glad
to
see
Gaylord
’
s
and
to
know
about
it
.
You
are
a
long
way
from
how
you
felt
in
the
Sierra
and
at
Carabanchel
and
at
Usera
,
he
thought
.
You
corrupt
very
easily
,
he
thought
.
But
was
it
corruption
or
was
it
merely
that
you
lost
the
naïveté
that
you
started
with
?
Would
it
not
be
the
same
in
anything
?
Who
else
kept
that
first
chastity
of
mind
about
their
work
that
young
doctors
,
young
priests
,
and
young
soldiers
usually
started
with
?
The
priests
certainly
kept
it
,
or
they
got
out
.
I
suppose
the
Nazis
keep
it
,
he
thought
,
and
the
Communists
who
have
a
severe
enough
self
-
discipline
.
But
look
at
Karkov
.
He
never
tired
of
considering
the
case
of
Karkov
.
The
last
time
he
had
been
at
Gaylord
’
s
Karkov
had
been
wonderful
about
a
certain
British
economist
who
had
spent
much
time
in
Spain
.
Robert
Jordan
had
read
this
man
’
s
writing
for
years
and
he
had
always
respected
him
without
knowing
anything
about
him
.
He
had
not
cared
very
much
for
what
this
man
had
written
about
Spain
.
It
was
too
clear
and
simple
and
too
open
and
shut
and
many
of
the
statistics
he
knew
were
faked
by
wishful
thinking
.
But
he
thought
you
rarely
cared
for
journalism
written
about
a
country
you
really
knew
about
and
he
respected
the
man
for
his
intentions
.
Then
he
had
seen
the
man
,
finally
,
on
the
afternoon
when
they
had
attacked
at
Carabanchel
.
They
were
sitting
in
the
lee
of
the
bull
ring
and
there
was
shooting
down
the
two
streets
and
every
one
was
nervous
waiting
for
the
attack
.
A
tank
had
been
promised
and
it
had
not
come
up
and
Montero
was
sitting
with
his
head
in
his
hand
saying
,
"
The
tank
has
not
come
.
The
tank
has
not
come
.
"
It
was
a
cold
day
and
the
yellow
dust
was
blowing
down
the
street
and
Montero
had
been
hit
in
the
left
arm
and
the
arm
was
stiffening
.
"
We
have
to
have
a
tank
,
"
he
said
.
"
We
must
wait
for
the
tank
,
but
we
cannot
wait
.
"
His
wound
was
making
him
sound
petulant
.
