-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Фрэнк Норрис
-
- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
-
- Стр. 75/416
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
But
the
quiet
,
the
repose
,
the
isolation
of
the
little
cloister
garden
was
infinitely
delicious
.
It
was
a
tiny
corner
of
the
great
valley
that
stretched
in
all
directions
around
it
—
shut
off
,
discreet
,
romantic
,
a
garden
of
dreams
,
of
enchantments
,
of
illusions
.
Outside
there
,
far
off
,
the
great
grim
world
went
clashing
through
its
grooves
,
but
in
here
never
an
echo
of
the
grinding
of
its
wheels
entered
to
jar
upon
the
subdued
modulation
of
the
fountain
’
s
uninterrupted
murmur
.
Sarria
and
Vanamee
found
their
way
to
a
stone
bench
against
the
side
wall
of
the
Mission
,
near
the
door
from
which
they
had
just
issued
,
and
sat
down
,
Sarria
lighting
a
cigar
,
Vanamee
rolling
and
smoking
cigarettes
in
Mexican
fashion
.
All
about
them
widened
the
vast
calm
night
.
All
the
stars
were
out
.
The
moon
was
coming
up
.
There
was
no
wind
,
no
sound
.
The
insistent
flowing
of
the
fountain
seemed
only
as
the
symbol
of
the
passing
of
time
,
a
thing
that
was
understood
rather
than
heard
,
inevitable
,
prolonged
.
At
long
intervals
,
a
faint
breeze
,
hardly
more
than
a
breath
,
found
its
way
into
the
garden
over
the
enclosing
walls
,
and
passed
overhead
,
spreading
everywhere
the
delicious
,
mingled
perfume
of
magnolia
blossoms
,
of
mignonette
,
of
moss
,
of
grass
,
and
all
the
calm
green
life
silently
teeming
within
the
enclosure
of
the
walls
.
From
where
he
sat
,
Vanamee
,
turning
his
head
,
could
look
out
underneath
the
pear
trees
to
the
north
.
Close
at
hand
,
a
little
valley
lay
between
the
high
ground
on
which
the
Mission
was
built
,
and
the
line
of
low
hills
just
beyond
Broderson
Creek
on
the
Quien
Sabe
.
In
here
was
the
Seed
ranch
,
which
Angele
’
s
people
had
cultivated
,
a
unique
and
beautiful
stretch
of
five
hundred
acres
,
planted
thick
with
roses
,
violets
,
lilies
,
tulips
,
iris
,
carnations
,
tube
-
roses
,
poppies
,
heliotrope
—
all
manner
and
description
of
flowers
,
five
hundred
acres
of
them
,
solid
,
thick
,
exuberant
;
blooming
and
fading
,
and
leaving
their
seed
or
slips
to
be
marketed
broadcast
all
over
the
United
States
.
This
had
been
the
vocation
of
Angele
’
s
parents
—
raising
flowers
for
their
seeds
.
All
over
the
country
the
Seed
ranch
was
known
.
Now
it
was
arid
,
almost
dry
,
but
when
in
full
flower
,
toward
the
middle
of
summer
,
the
sight
of
these
half
-
thousand
acres
royal
with
colour
—
vermilion
,
azure
,
flaming
yellow
—
was
a
marvel
.
When
an
east
wind
blew
,
men
on
the
streets
of
Bonneville
,
nearly
twelve
miles
away
,
could
catch
the
scent
of
this
valley
of
flowers
,
this
chaos
of
perfume
.
And
into
this
life
of
flowers
,
this
world
of
colour
,
this
atmosphere
oppressive
and
clogged
and
cloyed
and
thickened
with
sweet
odour
,
Angele
had
been
born
.
There
she
had
lived
her
sixteen
years
.
There
she
had
died
.
It
was
not
surprising
that
Vanamee
,
with
his
intense
,
delicate
sensitiveness
to
beauty
,
his
almost
abnormal
capacity
for
great
happiness
,
had
been
drawn
to
her
,
had
loved
her
so
deeply
.
She
came
to
him
from
out
of
the
flowers
,
the
smell
of
the
roses
in
her
hair
of
gold
,
that
hung
in
two
straight
plaits
on
either
side
of
her
face
;
the
reflection
of
the
violets
in
the
profound
dark
blue
of
her
eyes
,
perplexing
,
heavy
-
lidded
,
almond
-
shaped
,
oriental
;
the
aroma
and
the
imperial
red
of
the
carnations
in
her
lips
,
with
their
almost
Egyptian
fulness
;
the
whiteness
of
the
lilies
,
the
perfume
of
the
lilies
,
and
the
lilies
’
slender
balancing
grace
in
her
neck
.
Her
hands
disengaged
the
odour
of
the
heliotropes
.
The
folds
of
her
dress
gave
off
the
enervating
scent
of
poppies
.
Her
feet
were
redolent
of
hyacinths
.
For
a
long
time
after
sitting
down
upon
the
bench
,
neither
the
priest
nor
Vanamee
spoke
.
But
after
a
while
Sarria
took
his
cigar
from
his
lips
,
saying
:
“
How
still
it
is
!
This
is
a
beautiful
old
garden
,
peaceful
,
very
quiet
.
Some
day
I
shall
be
buried
here
.
I
like
to
remember
that
;
and
you
,
too
,
Vanamee
.
”
