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- Фрэнк Герберт
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- Стр. 622/972
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As
the
import
of
Feyd
-
Rautha
’
s
gesture
penetrated
to
the
most
distant
seats
,
as
the
people
saw
the
handlers
carrying
off
the
dead
gladiator
intact
,
the
Baron
watched
them
and
realized
she
had
interpreted
the
reaction
correctly
.
The
people
were
going
wild
,
beating
on
each
other
,
screaming
and
stamping
.
The
Baron
spoke
wearily
.
“
I
shall
have
to
order
a
fete
.
You
cannot
send
people
home
like
this
,
their
energies
unspent
.
They
must
see
that
I
share
their
elation
.
”
He
gave
a
hand
signal
to
his
guard
,
and
a
servant
above
them
dipped
the
Harkonnen
orange
pennant
over
the
box
—
once
,
twice
,
three
times
—
signal
for
a
fete
.
Feyd
-
Rautha
crossed
the
arena
to
stand
beneath
the
golden
box
,
his
weapons
sheathed
,
arms
hanging
at
his
sides
.
Above
the
undiminished
frenzy
of
the
crowd
,
he
called
:
“
A
fete
,
Uncle
?
”
The
noise
began
to
subside
as
people
saw
the
conversation
and
waited
.
“
In
your
honor
,
Feyd
!
”
the
Baron
called
down
.
And
again
,
he
caused
the
pennant
to
be
dipped
in
signal
.
Across
the
arena
,
the
pru
-
barriers
had
been
dropped
and
young
men
were
leaping
down
into
the
arena
,
racing
toward
Feyd
-
Rautha
.
“
You
ordered
the
pru
-
shields
dropped
,
Baron
?
”
the
Count
asked
.
“
No
one
will
harm
the
lad
,
”
the
Baron
said
.
“
He
’
s
a
hero
.
”
The
first
of
the
charging
mass
reached
Feyd
-
Rautha
,
lifted
him
on
their
shoulders
,
began
parading
around
the
arena
.
