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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 87/416
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The
water
in
the
irrigating
ditch
was
well
up
.
There
was
no
cloud
in
the
sky
.
Far
off
to
the
east
and
west
,
the
bulwarks
of
the
valley
,
the
Coast
Range
and
the
foothills
of
the
Sierras
stood
out
,
pale
amethyst
against
the
delicate
pink
and
white
sheen
of
the
horizon
.
The
sunlight
was
a
veritable
flood
,
crystal
,
limpid
,
sparkling
,
setting
a
feeling
of
gayety
in
the
air
,
stirring
up
an
effervescence
in
the
blood
,
a
tumult
of
exuberance
in
the
veins
.
But
on
his
way
to
the
barns
,
Annixter
was
obliged
to
pass
by
the
open
door
of
the
dairy
-
house
.
Hilma
Tree
was
inside
,
singing
at
her
work
;
her
voice
of
a
velvety
huskiness
,
more
of
the
chest
than
of
the
throat
,
mingling
with
the
liquid
dashing
of
the
milk
in
the
vats
and
churns
,
and
the
clear
,
sonorous
clinking
of
the
cans
and
pans
.
Annixter
turned
into
the
dairy
-
house
,
pausing
on
the
threshold
,
looking
about
him
.
Hilma
stood
bathed
from
head
to
foot
in
the
torrent
of
sunlight
that
poured
in
upon
her
from
the
three
wide
-
open
windows
.
She
was
charming
,
delicious
,
radiant
of
youth
,
of
health
,
of
well
-
being
.
Into
her
eyes
,
wide
open
,
brown
,
rimmed
with
their
fine
,
thin
line
of
intense
black
lashes
,
the
sun
set
a
diamond
flash
;
the
same
golden
light
glowed
all
around
her
thick
,
moist
hair
,
lambent
,
beautiful
,
a
sheen
of
almost
metallic
lustre
,
and
reflected
itself
upon
her
wet
lips
,
moving
with
the
words
of
her
singing
.
The
whiteness
of
her
skin
under
the
caress
of
this
hale
,
vigorous
morning
light
was
dazzling
,
pure
,
of
a
fineness
beyond
words
.
Beneath
the
sweet
modulation
of
her
chin
,
the
reflected
light
from
the
burnished
copper
vessel
she
was
carrying
set
a
vibration
of
pale
gold
.
Overlaying
the
flush
of
rose
in
her
cheeks
,
seen
only
when
she
stood
against
the
sunlight
,
was
a
faint
sheen
of
down
,
a
lustrous
floss
,
delicate
as
the
pollen
of
a
flower
,
or
the
impalpable
powder
of
a
moth
’
s
wing
.
She
was
moving
to
and
fro
about
her
work
,
alert
,
joyous
,
robust
;
and
from
all
the
fine
,
full
amplitude
of
her
figure
,
from
her
thick
white
neck
,
sloping
downward
to
her
shoulders
,
from
the
deep
,
feminine
swell
of
her
breast
,
the
vigorous
maturity
of
her
hips
,
there
was
disengaged
a
vibrant
note
of
gayety
,
of
exuberant
animal
life
,
sane
,
honest
,
strong
.
She
wore
a
skirt
of
plain
blue
calico
and
a
shirtwaist
of
pink
linen
,
clean
,
trim
;
while
her
sleeves
turned
back
to
her
shoulders
,
showed
her
large
,
white
arms
,
wet
with
milk
,
redolent
and
fragrant
with
milk
,
glowing
and
resplendent
in
the
early
morning
light
.
On
the
threshold
,
Annixter
took
off
his
hat
.
“
Good
morning
,
Miss
Hilma
.
”
Hilma
,
who
had
set
down
the
copper
can
on
top
of
the
vat
,
turned
about
quickly
.
“
Oh
,
GOOD
morning
,
sir
;
”
and
,
unconsciously
,
she
made
a
little
gesture
of
salutation
with
her
hand
,
raising
it
part
way
toward
her
head
,
as
a
man
would
have
done
.
“
Well
,
”
began
Annixter
vaguely
,
“
how
are
you
getting
along
down
here
?
”
“
Oh
,
very
fine
.
To
-
day
,
there
is
not
so
much
to
do
.
We
drew
the
whey
hours
ago
,
and
now
we
are
just
done
putting
the
curd
to
press
.
I
have
been
cleaning
.
See
my
pans
.
Wouldn
’
t
they
do
for
mirrors
,
sir
?
And
the
copper
things
.
I
have
scrubbed
and
scrubbed
.
Oh
,
you
can
look
into
the
tiniest
corners
,
everywhere
,
you
won
’
t
find
so
much
as
the
littlest
speck
of
dirt
or
grease
.
I
love
CLEAN
things
,
and
this
room
is
my
own
particular
place
.
Here
I
can
do
just
as
I
please
,
and
that
is
,
to
keep
the
cement
floor
,
and
the
vats
,
and
the
churns
and
the
separators
,
and
especially
the
cans
and
coppers
,
clean
;
clean
,
and
to
see
that
the
milk
is
pure
,
oh
,
so
that
a
little
baby
could
drink
it
;
and
to
have
the
air
always
sweet
,
and
the
sun
—
oh
,
lots
and
lots
of
sun
,
morning
,
noon
and
afternoon
,
so
that
everything
shines
.
You
know
,
I
never
see
the
sun
set
that
it
don
’
t
make
me
a
little
sad
;
yes
,
always
,
just
a
little
.
Isn
’
t
it
funny
?
I
should
want
it
to
be
day
all
the
time
.
And
when
the
day
is
gloomy
and
dark
,
I
am
just
as
sad
as
if
a
very
good
friend
of
mine
had
left
me
.
Would
you
believe
it
?
Just
until
within
a
few
years
,
when
I
was
a
big
girl
,
sixteen
and
over
,
mamma
had
to
sit
by
my
bed
every
night
before
I
could
go
to
sleep
.
I
was
afraid
in
the
dark
.
Sometimes
I
am
now
.
Just
imagine
,
and
now
I
am
nineteen
—
a
young
lady
.
”
