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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 131/416
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“
Ach
,
Gott
,
der
brendt
,
”
Hooven
clasped
his
head
,
“
ach
,
der
brendt
,
dot
maks
me
laugh
some
laughs
.
Dot
’
s
goot
—
der
brendt
—
doand
I
see
um
—
shoor
der
boole
mit
der
bleck
star
bei
der
vore
-
head
in
der
middle
oaf
.
Any
someones
you
esk
tell
you
dot
is
mein
boole
.
You
esk
any
someones
.
Der
brendt
?
To
hell
mit
der
brendt
.
You
aindt
got
some
memorie
aboudt
does
ting
I
guess
nodt
.
”
“
Please
step
aside
,
gentlemen
,
”
said
young
Vacca
,
who
was
still
making
the
rounds
of
the
floor
.
Hooven
whirled
about
.
“
Eh
?
What
den
,
”
he
exclaimed
,
still
excited
,
willing
to
be
angry
at
any
one
for
the
moment
.
“
Doand
you
push
soh
,
you
.
I
tink
berhapz
you
doand
OWN
dose
barn
,
hey
?
”
“
I
’
m
busy
,
I
’
m
very
busy
.
”
The
young
man
pushed
by
with
grave
preoccupation
.
“
Two
quarts
’
n
’
a
half
.
Two
quarts
’
n
’
a
half
.
”
“
I
know
better
.
That
’
s
all
rot
.
”
But
the
barn
was
filling
up
rapidly
.
At
every
moment
there
was
a
rattle
of
a
newly
arrived
vehicle
from
outside
.
Guest
after
guest
appeared
in
the
doorway
,
singly
or
in
couples
,
or
in
families
,
or
in
garrulous
parties
of
five
and
six
.
Now
it
was
Phelps
and
his
mother
from
Los
Muertos
,
now
a
foreman
from
Broderson
’
s
with
his
family
,
now
a
gayly
apparelled
clerk
from
a
Bonneville
store
,
solitary
and
bewildered
,
looking
for
a
place
to
put
his
hat
,
now
a
couple
of
Spanish
-
Mexican
girls
from
Guadalajara
with
coquettish
effects
of
black
and
yellow
about
their
dress
,
now
a
group
of
Osterman
’
s
tenants
,
Portuguese
,
swarthy
,
with
plastered
hair
and
curled
mustaches
,
redolent
of
cheap
perfumes
.
Sarria
arrived
,
his
smooth
,
shiny
face
glistening
with
perspiration
.
He
wore
a
new
cassock
and
carried
his
broad
-
brimmed
hat
under
his
arm
.
His
appearance
made
quite
a
stir
.
He
passed
from
group
to
group
,
urbane
,
affable
,
shaking
hands
right
and
left
;
he
assumed
a
set
smile
of
amiability
which
never
left
his
face
the
whole
evening
.
But
abruptly
there
was
a
veritable
sensation
.
From
out
the
little
crowd
that
persistently
huddled
about
the
doorway
came
Osterman
.
He
wore
a
dress
-
suit
with
a
white
waistcoat
and
patent
leather
pumps
—
what
a
wonder
!
A
little
qualm
of
excitement
spread
around
the
barn
.
One
exchanged
nudges
of
the
elbow
with
one
’
s
neighbour
,
whispering
earnestly
behind
the
hand
.
What
astonishing
clothes
!
Catch
on
to
the
coat
-
tails
!
It
was
a
masquerade
costume
,
maybe
;
that
goat
Osterman
was
such
a
josher
,
one
never
could
tell
what
he
would
do
next
.
The
musicians
began
to
tune
up
.
From
their
corner
came
a
medley
of
mellow
sounds
,
the
subdued
chirps
of
the
violins
,
the
dull
bourdon
of
the
bass
viol
,
the
liquid
gurgling
of
the
flageolet
and
the
deep
-
toned
snarl
of
the
big
horn
,
with
now
and
then
a
rasping
stridulating
of
the
snare
drum
.
