-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Эрнест Хэмингуэй
-
- Прощай, оружие!
-
- Стр. 178/425
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
She
went
down
the
hall
.
The
porter
carried
the
sack
.
He
knew
what
was
in
it
.
Nothing
happened
except
that
I
lost
my
leave
.
The
night
I
was
to
return
to
the
front
I
sent
the
porter
down
to
hold
a
seat
for
me
on
the
train
when
it
came
from
Turin
.
The
train
was
to
leave
at
midnight
.
It
was
made
up
at
Turin
and
reached
Milan
about
half
-
past
ten
at
night
and
lay
in
the
station
until
time
to
leave
.
You
had
to
be
there
when
it
came
in
,
to
get
a
seat
.
The
porter
took
a
friend
with
him
,
a
machine
-
gunner
on
leave
who
worked
in
a
tailor
shop
,
and
was
sure
that
between
them
they
could
hold
a
place
.
I
gave
them
money
for
platform
tickets
and
had
them
take
my
baggage
.
There
was
a
big
rucksack
and
two
musettes
.
I
said
good
-
by
at
the
hospital
at
about
five
o
’
clock
and
went
out
.
The
porter
had
my
baggage
in
his
lodge
and
I
told
him
I
would
be
at
the
station
a
little
before
midnight
.
His
wife
called
me
"
Signorino
"
and
cried
.
She
wiped
her
eyes
and
shook
hands
and
then
cried
again
.
I
patted
her
on
the
back
and
she
cried
once
more
.
She
had
done
my
mending
and
was
a
very
short
dumpy
,
happy
-
faced
woman
with
white
hair
.
When
she
cried
her
whole
face
went
to
pieces
.
I
went
down
to
the
corner
where
there
was
a
wine
shop
and
waited
inside
looking
out
the
window
.
It
was
dark
outside
and
cold
and
misty
.
I
paid
for
my
coffee
and
grappa
and
I
watched
the
people
going
by
in
the
light
from
the
window
.
I
saw
Catherine
and
knocked
on
the
window
.
She
looked
,
saw
me
and
smiled
,
and
I
went
out
to
meet
her
.
She
was
wearing
a
dark
blue
cape
and
a
soft
felt
hat
.
We
walked
along
together
,
along
the
sidewalk
past
the
wine
shops
,
then
across
the
market
square
and
up
the
street
and
through
the
archway
to
the
cathedral
square
.
There
were
streetcar
tracks
and
beyond
them
was
the
cathedral
.
It
was
white
and
wet
in
the
mist
.
We
crossed
the
tram
tracks
.
On
our
left
were
the
shops
,
their
windows
lighted
,
and
the
entrance
to
the
galleria
.
There
was
a
fog
in
the
square
and
when
we
came
close
to
the
front
of
the
cathedral
it
was
very
big
and
the
stone
was
wet
.
"
Would
you
like
to
go
in
?
"
"
No
,
"
Catherine
said
.
We
walked
along
.
There
was
a
soldier
standing
with
his
girl
in
the
shadow
of
one
of
the
stone
buttresses
ahead
of
us
and
we
passed
them
.
They
were
standing
tight
up
against
the
stone
and
he
had
put
his
cape
around
her
.
"
They
’
re
like
us
,
"
I
said
.
"
Nobody
is
like
us
,
"
Catherine
said
.
She
did
not
mean
it
happily
.
"
I
wish
they
had
some
place
to
go
.
"