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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 253/416
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Hilma
could
not
keep
back
the
tears
as
they
passed
through
the
lamentable
desolation
of
the
withered
,
brown
vines
,
symbols
of
perished
hopes
and
abandoned
effort
,
and
Annixter
swore
between
his
teeth
.
Though
the
wheels
of
the
carry
-
all
grated
loudly
on
the
roadway
in
front
of
the
house
,
nobody
came
to
the
door
nor
looked
from
the
windows
.
The
place
seemed
tenantless
,
infinitely
lonely
,
infinitely
sad
.
Annixter
tied
the
team
,
and
with
Hilma
approached
the
wide
-
open
door
,
scuffling
and
tramping
on
the
porch
to
attract
attention
.
Nobody
stirred
.
A
Sunday
stillness
pervaded
the
place
.
Outside
,
the
withered
hop
-
leaves
rustled
like
dry
paper
in
the
breeze
.
The
quiet
was
ominous
.
They
peered
into
the
front
room
from
the
doorway
,
Hilma
holding
her
husband
’
s
hand
.
Mrs
.
Dyke
was
there
.
She
sat
at
the
table
in
the
middle
of
the
room
,
her
head
,
with
its
white
hair
,
down
upon
her
arm
.
A
clutter
of
unwashed
dishes
were
strewed
over
the
red
and
white
tablecloth
.
The
unkempt
room
,
once
a
marvel
of
neatness
,
had
not
been
cleaned
for
days
.
Newspapers
,
Genslinger
’
s
extras
and
copies
of
San
Francisco
and
Los
Angeles
dailies
were
scattered
all
over
the
room
.
On
the
table
itself
were
crumpled
yellow
telegrams
,
a
dozen
of
them
,
a
score
of
them
,
blowing
about
in
the
draught
from
the
door
.
And
in
the
midst
of
all
this
disarray
,
surrounded
by
the
published
accounts
of
her
son
’
s
crime
,
the
telegraphed
answers
to
her
pitiful
appeals
for
tidings
fluttering
about
her
head
,
the
highwayman
’
s
mother
,
worn
out
,
abandoned
and
forgotten
,
slept
through
the
stillness
of
the
Sunday
afternoon
.
Neither
Hilma
nor
Annixter
ever
forgot
their
interview
with
Mrs
.
Dyke
that
day
.
Suddenly
waking
,
she
had
caught
sight
of
Annixter
,
and
at
once
exclaimed
eagerly
:
“
Is
there
any
news
?
”
For
a
long
time
afterwards
nothing
could
be
got
from
her
.
She
was
numb
to
all
other
issues
than
the
one
question
of
Dyke
’
s
capture
.
She
did
not
answer
their
questions
nor
reply
to
their
offers
of
assistance
.
Hilma
and
Annixter
conferred
together
without
lowering
their
voices
,
at
her
very
elbow
,
while
she
looked
vacantly
at
the
floor
,
drawing
one
hand
over
the
other
in
a
persistent
,
maniacal
gesture
.
From
time
to
time
she
would
start
suddenly
from
her
chair
,
her
eyes
wide
,
and
as
if
all
at
once
realising
Annixter
’
s
presence
,
would
cry
out
:
“
Is
there
any
news
?
”
“
Where
is
Sidney
,
Mrs
.
Dyke
?
”
asked
Hilma
for
the
fourth
time
.
“
Is
she
well
?
Is
she
taken
care
of
?
”
“
Here
’
s
the
last
telegram
,
”
said
Mrs
.
Dyke
,
in
a
loud
,
monotonous
voice
.
“
See
,
it
says
there
is
no
news
.
He
didn
’
t
do
it
,
”
she
moaned
,
rocking
herself
back
and
forth
,
drawing
one
hand
over
the
other
,
“
he
didn
’
t
do
it
,
he
didn
’
t
do
it
,
he
didn
’
t
do
it
.
I
don
’
t
know
where
he
is
.
”
When
at
last
she
came
to
herself
,
it
was
with
a
flood
of
tears
.
Hilma
put
her
arms
around
the
poor
,
old
woman
,
as
she
bowed
herself
again
upon
the
table
,
sobbing
and
weeping
.
