-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Фрэнк Норрис
-
- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
-
- Стр. 10/416
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Presley
was
silent
.
Dyke
’
s
challenge
was
unanswerable
.
There
was
a
lapse
in
their
talk
,
Presley
drumming
on
the
arm
of
the
seat
,
meditating
on
this
injustice
;
Dyke
looking
off
over
the
fields
beyond
the
town
,
his
frown
lowering
,
his
teeth
rasping
upon
his
pipestem
.
The
station
agent
came
to
the
door
of
the
depot
,
stretching
and
yawning
.
On
ahead
of
the
engine
,
the
empty
rails
of
the
track
,
reaching
out
toward
the
horizon
,
threw
off
visible
layers
of
heat
.
The
telegraph
key
clicked
incessantly
.
“
So
I
’
m
going
to
quit
,
”
Dyke
remarked
after
a
while
,
his
anger
somewhat
subsided
.
“
My
brother
and
I
will
take
up
this
hop
ranch
.
I
’
ve
saved
a
good
deal
in
the
last
ten
years
,
and
there
ought
to
be
money
in
hops
.
”
Presley
went
on
,
remounting
his
bicycle
,
wheeling
silently
through
the
deserted
streets
of
the
decayed
and
dying
Mexican
town
.
It
was
the
hour
of
the
siesta
.
Nobody
was
about
.
There
was
no
business
in
the
town
.
It
was
too
close
to
Bonneville
for
that
.
Before
the
railroad
came
,
and
in
the
days
when
the
raising
of
cattle
was
the
great
industry
of
the
country
,
it
had
enjoyed
a
fierce
and
brilliant
life
.
Now
it
was
moribund
.
The
drug
store
,
the
two
bar
-
rooms
,
the
hotel
at
the
corner
of
the
old
Plaza
,
and
the
shops
where
Mexican
“
curios
”
were
sold
to
those
occasional
Eastern
tourists
who
came
to
visit
the
Mission
of
San
Juan
,
sufficed
for
the
town
’
s
activity
.
At
Solotari
’
s
,
the
restaurant
on
the
Plaza
,
diagonally
across
from
the
hotel
,
Presley
ate
his
long
-
deferred
Mexican
dinner
—
an
omelette
in
Spanish
-
Mexican
style
,
frijoles
and
tortillas
,
a
salad
,
and
a
glass
of
white
wine
.
In
a
corner
of
the
room
,
during
the
whole
course
of
his
dinner
,
two
young
Mexicans
(
one
of
whom
was
astonishingly
handsome
,
after
the
melodramatic
fashion
of
his
race
)
and
an
old
fellow
!
the
centenarian
of
the
town
,
decrepit
beyond
belief
,
sang
an
interminable
love
-
song
to
the
accompaniment
of
a
guitar
and
an
accordion
.
These
Spanish
-
Mexicans
,
decayed
,
picturesque
,
vicious
,
and
romantic
,
never
failed
to
interest
Presley
.
A
few
of
them
still
remained
in
Guadalajara
,
drifting
from
the
saloon
to
the
restaurant
,
and
from
the
restaurant
to
the
Plaza
,
relics
of
a
former
generation
,
standing
for
a
different
order
of
things
,
absolutely
idle
,
living
God
knew
how
,
happy
with
their
cigarette
,
their
guitar
,
their
glass
of
mescal
,
and
their
siesta
.
The
centenarian
remembered
Fremont
and
Governor
Alvarado
,
and
the
bandit
Jesus
Tejeda
,
and
the
days
when
Los
Muertos
was
a
Spanish
grant
,
a
veritable
principality
,
leagues
in
extent
,
and
when
there
was
never
a
fence
from
Visalia
to
Fresno
.
Upon
this
occasion
,
Presley
offered
the
old
man
a
drink
of
mescal
,
and
excited
him
to
talk
of
the
things
he
remembered
.
Their
talk
was
in
Spanish
,
a
language
with
which
Presley
was
familiar
.
“
De
La
Cuesta
held
the
grant
of
Los
Muertos
in
those
days
,
”
the
centenarian
said
;
“
a
grand
man
.
He
had
the
power
of
life
and
death
over
his
people
,
and
there
was
no
law
but
his
word
.
There
was
no
thought
of
wheat
then
,
you
may
believe
.
It
was
all
cattle
in
those
days
,
sheep
,
horses
—
steers
,
not
so
many
—
and
if
money
was
scarce
,
there
was
always
plenty
to
eat
,
and
clothes
enough
for
all
,
and
wine
,
ah
,
yes
,
by
the
vat
,
and
oil
too
;
the
Mission
Fathers
had
that
.
Yes
,
and
there
was
wheat
as
well
,
now
that
I
come
to
think
;
but
a
very
little
—
in
the
field
north
of
the
Mission
where
now
it
is
the
Seed
ranch
;
wheat
fields
were
there
,
and
also
a
vineyard
,
all
on
Mission
grounds
.
Wheat
,
olives
,
and
the
vine
;
the
Fathers
planted
those
,
to
provide
the
elements
of
the
Holy
Sacrament
—
bread
,
oil
,
and
wine
,
you
understand
.
It
was
like
that
,
those
industries
began
in
California
—
from
the
Church
;
and
now
,
”
he
put
his
chin
in
the
air
,
“
what
would
Father
Ullivari
have
said
to
such
a
crop
as
Senor
Derrick
plants
these
days
?
Ten
thousand
acres
of
wheat
!
Nothing
but
wheat
from
the
Sierra
to
the
Coast
Range
.
I
remember
when
De
La
Cuesta
was
married
.
He
had
never
seen
the
young
lady
,
only
her
miniature
portrait
,
painted
”
—
he
raised
a
shoulder
—
“
I
do
not
know
by
whom
,
small
,
a
little
thing
to
be
held
in
the
palm
.
But
he
fell
in
love
with
that
,
and
marry
her
he
would
.
The
affair
was
arranged
between
him
and
the
girl
’
s
parents
.
But
when
the
time
came
that
De
La
Cuesta
was
to
go
to
Monterey
to
meet
and
marry
the
girl
,
behold
,
Jesus
Tejeda
broke
in
upon
the
small
rancheros
near
Terrabella
.
It
was
no
time
for
De
La
Cuesta
to
be
away
,
so
he
sent
his
brother
Esteban
to
Monterey
to
marry
the
girl
by
proxy
for
him
.
I
went
with
Esteban
.
We
were
a
company
,
nearly
a
hundred
men
.
And
De
La
Cuesta
sent
a
horse
for
the
girl
to
ride
,
white
,
pure
white
;
and
the
saddle
was
of
red
leather
;
the
head
-
stall
,
the
bit
,
and
buckles
,
all
the
metal
work
,
of
virgin
silver
.
Well
,
there
was
a
ceremony
in
the
Monterey
Mission
,
and
Esteban
,
in
the
name
of
his
brother
,
was
married
to
the
girl
.
On
our
way
back
,
De
La
Cuesta
rode
out
to
meet
us
.
His
company
met
ours
at
Agatha
dos
Palos
.
Never
will
I
forget
De
La
Cuesta
’
s
face
as
his
eyes
fell
upon
the
girl
.
It
was
a
look
,
a
glance
,
come
and
gone
like
THAT
,
”
he
snapped
his
fingers
.
“
No
one
but
I
saw
it
,
but
I
was
close
by
.
There
was
no
mistaking
that
look
.
De
La
Cuesta
was
disappointed
.
”
“
And
the
girl
?
”
demanded
Presley
.
“
She
never
knew
.
Ah
,
he
was
a
grand
gentleman
,
De
La
Cuesta
.
Always
he
treated
her
as
a
queen
.
Never
was
husband
more
devoted
,
more
respectful
,
more
chivalrous
.
But
love
?
”
The
old
fellow
put
his
chin
in
the
air
,
shutting
his
eyes
in
a
knowing
fashion
.
“
It
was
not
there
.
I
could
tell
.
They
were
married
over
again
at
the
Mission
San
Juan
de
Guadalajara
—
OUR
Mission
—
and
for
a
week
all
the
town
of
Guadalajara
was
in
fete
.
There
were
bull
-
fights
in
the
Plaza
—
this
very
one
—
for
five
days
,
and
to
each
of
his
tenants
-
in
-
chief
,
De
La
Cuesta
gave
a
horse
,
a
barrel
of
tallow
,
an
ounce
of
silver
,
and
half
an
ounce
of
gold
dust
.
Ah
,
those
were
days
.
That
was
a
gay
life
.
This
”
—
he
made
a
comprehensive
gesture
with
his
left
hand
—
“
this
is
stupid
.
”
