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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 28/416
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When
Presley
had
appeared
on
Los
Muertos
,
she
had
welcomed
his
arrival
with
delight
.
Here
at
last
was
a
congenial
spirit
.
She
looked
forward
to
long
conversations
with
the
young
man
on
literature
,
art
,
and
ethics
.
But
Presley
had
disappointed
her
.
That
he
—
outside
of
his
few
chosen
deities
—
should
care
little
for
literature
,
shocked
her
beyond
words
.
His
indifference
to
“
style
,
”
to
elegant
English
,
was
a
positive
affront
.
His
savage
abuse
and
open
ridicule
of
the
neatly
phrased
rondeaux
and
sestinas
and
chansonettes
of
the
little
magazines
was
to
her
mind
a
wanton
and
uncalled
-
for
cruelty
.
She
found
his
Homer
,
with
its
slaughters
and
hecatombs
and
barbaric
feastings
and
headstrong
passions
,
violent
and
coarse
.
She
could
not
see
with
him
any
romance
,
any
poetry
in
the
life
around
her
;
she
looked
to
Italy
for
that
.
His
“
Song
of
the
West
,
”
which
only
once
,
incoherent
and
fierce
,
he
had
tried
to
explain
to
her
,
its
swift
,
tumultous
life
,
its
truth
,
its
nobility
and
savagery
,
its
heroism
and
obscenity
had
revolted
her
.
“
But
,
Presley
,
”
she
had
murmured
,
“
that
is
not
literature
.
”
“
No
,
”
he
had
cried
between
his
teeth
,
“
no
,
thank
God
,
it
is
not
.
”
A
little
later
,
one
of
the
stablemen
brought
the
buggy
with
the
team
of
bays
up
to
the
steps
of
the
porch
,
and
Harran
,
putting
on
a
different
coat
and
a
black
hat
,
took
himself
off
to
Guadalajara
.
The
morning
was
fine
;
there
was
no
cloud
in
the
sky
,
but
as
Harran
’
s
buggy
drew
away
from
the
grove
of
trees
about
the
ranch
house
,
emerging
into
the
open
country
on
either
side
of
the
Lower
Road
,
he
caught
himself
looking
sharply
at
the
sky
and
the
faint
line
of
hills
beyond
the
Quien
Sabe
ranch
.
There
was
a
certain
indefinite
cast
to
the
landscape
that
to
Harran
’
s
eye
was
not
to
be
mistaken
.
Rain
,
the
first
of
the
season
,
was
not
far
off
.
“
That
’
s
good
,
”
he
muttered
,
touching
the
bays
with
the
whip
,
“
we
can
’
t
get
our
ploughs
to
hand
any
too
soon
.
”
These
ploughs
Magnus
Derrick
had
ordered
from
an
Eastern
manufacturer
some
months
before
,
since
he
was
dissatisfied
with
the
results
obtained
from
the
ones
he
had
used
hitherto
,
which
were
of
local
make
.
However
,
there
had
been
exasperating
and
unexpected
delays
in
their
shipment
.
Magnus
and
Harran
both
had
counted
upon
having
the
ploughs
in
their
implement
barns
that
very
week
,
but
a
tracer
sent
after
them
had
only
resulted
in
locating
them
,
still
en
route
,
somewhere
between
The
Needles
and
Bakersfield
.
Now
there
was
likelihood
of
rain
within
the
week
.
Ploughing
could
be
undertaken
immediately
afterward
,
so
soon
as
the
ground
was
softened
,
but
there
was
a
fair
chance
that
the
ranch
would
lie
idle
for
want
of
proper
machinery
.
It
was
ten
minutes
before
train
time
when
Harran
reached
the
depot
at
Guadalajara
.
The
San
Francisco
papers
of
the
preceding
day
had
arrived
on
an
earlier
train
.
He
bought
a
couple
from
the
station
agent
and
looked
them
over
till
a
distant
and
prolonged
whistle
announced
the
approach
of
the
down
train
.
In
one
of
the
four
passengers
that
alighted
from
the
train
,
he
recognised
his
father
.
He
half
rose
in
his
seat
,
whistling
shrilly
between
his
teeth
,
waving
his
hand
,
and
Magnus
Derrick
,
catching
sight
of
him
,
came
forward
quickly
.
