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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 73/416
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But
the
maid
-
servant
,
who
,
after
a
long
interval
opened
the
door
,
blinking
and
confused
at
being
roused
from
her
sleep
,
told
Vanamee
that
Sarria
was
not
in
his
room
.
Vanamee
,
however
,
was
known
to
her
as
the
priest
’
s
protege
and
great
friend
,
and
she
allowed
him
to
enter
,
telling
him
that
,
no
doubt
,
he
would
find
Sarria
in
the
church
itself
.
The
servant
led
the
way
down
the
cool
adobe
passage
to
a
larger
room
that
occupied
the
entire
width
of
the
bottom
of
the
belfry
tower
,
and
whence
a
flight
of
aged
steps
led
upward
into
the
dark
.
At
the
foot
of
the
stairs
was
a
door
opening
into
the
church
.
The
servant
admitted
Vanamee
,
closing
the
door
behind
her
.
The
interior
of
the
Mission
,
a
great
oblong
of
white
-
washed
adobe
with
a
flat
ceiling
,
was
lighted
dimly
by
the
sanctuary
lamp
that
hung
from
three
long
chains
just
over
the
chancel
rail
at
the
far
end
of
the
church
,
and
by
two
or
three
cheap
kerosene
lamps
in
brackets
of
imitation
bronze
.
All
around
the
walls
was
the
inevitable
series
of
pictures
representing
the
Stations
of
the
Cross
.
They
were
of
a
hideous
crudity
of
design
and
composition
,
yet
were
wrought
out
with
an
innocent
,
unquestioning
sincerity
that
was
not
without
its
charm
.
Each
picture
framed
alike
in
gilt
,
bore
its
suitable
inscription
in
staring
black
letters
.
“
Simon
,
The
Cyrenean
,
Helps
Jesus
to
Carry
His
Cross
.
”
“
Saint
Veronica
Wipes
the
Face
of
Jesus
.
”
“
Jesus
Falls
for
the
Fourth
Time
,
”
and
so
on
.
Half
-
way
up
the
length
of
the
church
the
pews
began
,
coffin
-
like
boxes
of
blackened
oak
,
shining
from
years
of
friction
,
each
with
its
door
;
while
over
them
,
and
built
out
from
the
wall
,
was
the
pulpit
,
with
its
tarnished
gilt
sounding
-
board
above
it
,
like
the
raised
cover
of
a
great
hat
-
box
.
Between
the
pews
,
in
the
aisle
,
the
violent
vermilion
of
a
strip
of
ingrain
carpet
assaulted
the
eye
.
Farther
on
were
the
steps
to
the
altar
,
the
chancel
rail
of
worm
-
riddled
oak
,
the
high
altar
,
with
its
napery
from
the
bargain
counters
of
a
San
Francisco
store
,
the
massive
silver
candlesticks
,
each
as
much
as
one
man
could
lift
,
the
gift
of
a
dead
Spanish
queen
,
and
,
last
,
the
pictures
of
the
chancel
,
the
Virgin
in
a
glory
,
a
Christ
in
agony
on
the
cross
,
and
St
.
John
the
Baptist
,
the
patron
saint
of
the
Mission
,
the
San
Juan
Bautista
,
of
the
early
days
,
a
gaunt
grey
figure
,
in
skins
,
two
fingers
upraised
in
the
gesture
of
benediction
.
The
air
of
the
place
was
cool
and
damp
,
and
heavy
with
the
flat
,
sweet
scent
of
stale
incense
smoke
.
It
was
of
a
vault
-
like
stillness
,
and
the
closing
of
the
door
behind
Vanamee
reechoed
from
corner
to
corner
with
a
prolonged
reverberation
of
thunder
.
However
,
Father
Sarria
was
not
in
the
church
.
Vanamee
took
a
couple
of
turns
the
length
of
the
aisle
,
looking
about
into
the
chapels
on
either
side
of
the
chancel
.
But
the
building
was
deserted
.
The
priest
had
been
there
recently
,
nevertheless
,
for
the
altar
furniture
was
in
disarray
,
as
though
he
had
been
rearranging
it
but
a
moment
before
.
On
both
sides
of
the
church
and
half
-
way
up
their
length
,
the
walls
were
pierced
by
low
archways
,
in
which
were
massive
wooden
doors
,
clamped
with
iron
bolts
.
One
of
these
doors
,
on
the
pulpit
side
of
the
church
,
stood
ajar
,
and
stepping
to
it
and
pushing
it
wide
open
,
Vanamee
looked
diagonally
across
a
little
patch
of
vegetables
—
beets
,
radishes
,
and
lettuce
—
to
the
rear
of
the
building
that
had
once
contained
the
cloisters
,
and
through
an
open
window
saw
Father
Sarria
diligently
polishing
the
silver
crucifix
that
usually
stood
on
the
high
altar
.
Vanamee
did
not
call
to
the
priest
.
Putting
a
finger
to
either
temple
,
he
fixed
his
eyes
steadily
upon
him
for
a
moment
as
he
moved
about
at
his
work
.
In
a
few
seconds
he
closed
his
eyes
,
but
only
part
way
.
The
pupils
contracted
;
his
forehead
lowered
to
an
expression
of
poignant
intensity
.
Soon
afterward
he
saw
the
priest
pause
abruptly
in
the
act
of
drawing
the
cover
over
the
crucifix
,
looking
about
him
from
side
to
side
.
He
turned
again
to
his
work
,
and
again
came
to
a
stop
,
perplexed
,
curious
.
With
uncertain
steps
,
and
evidently
wondering
why
he
did
so
,
he
came
to
the
door
of
the
room
and
opened
it
,
looking
out
into
the
night
.
Vanamee
,
hidden
in
the
deep
shadow
of
the
archway
,
did
not
move
,
but
his
eyes
closed
,
and
the
intense
expression
deepened
on
his
face
.
The
priest
hesitated
,
moved
forward
a
step
,
turned
back
,
paused
again
,
then
came
straight
across
the
garden
patch
,
brusquely
colliding
with
Vanamee
,
still
motionless
in
the
recess
of
the
archway
.
Sarria
gave
a
great
start
,
catching
his
breath
.
“
Oh
—
oh
,
it
’
s
you
.
Was
it
you
I
heard
calling
?
No
,
I
could
not
have
heard
—
I
remember
now
.
What
a
strange
power
!
I
am
not
sure
that
it
is
right
to
do
this
thing
,
Vanamee
.
I
—
I
HAD
to
come
.
I
do
not
know
why
.
It
is
a
great
force
—
a
power
—
I
don
’
t
like
it
.
Vanamee
,
sometimes
it
frightens
me
.
”
Vanamee
put
his
chin
in
the
air
.
