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- Стр. 76/182
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Perhaps
there
is
a
language
which
is
not
made
of
words
and
everything
in
the
world
understands
it
.
Perhaps
there
is
a
soul
hidden
in
everything
and
it
can
always
speak
,
without
even
making
a
sound
,
to
another
soul
.
But
whatsoever
was
the
reason
,
the
rat
knew
from
that
moment
that
he
was
safe
--
even
though
he
was
a
rat
.
He
knew
that
this
young
human
being
sitting
on
the
red
footstool
would
not
jump
up
and
terrify
him
with
wild
,
sharp
noises
or
throw
heavy
objects
at
him
which
,
if
they
did
not
fall
and
crush
him
,
would
send
him
limping
in
his
scurry
back
to
his
hole
.
He
was
really
a
very
nice
rat
,
and
did
not
mean
the
least
harm
.
When
he
had
stood
on
his
hind
legs
and
sniffed
the
air
,
with
his
bright
eyes
fixed
on
Sara
,
he
had
hoped
that
she
would
understand
this
,
and
would
not
begin
by
hating
him
as
an
enemy
.
When
the
mysterious
thing
which
speaks
without
saying
any
words
told
him
that
she
would
not
,
he
went
softly
toward
the
crumbs
and
began
to
eat
them
.
As
he
did
it
he
glanced
every
now
and
then
at
Sara
,
just
as
the
sparrows
had
done
,
and
his
expression
was
so
very
apologetic
that
it
touched
her
heart
.
She
sat
and
watched
him
without
making
any
movement
.
One
crumb
was
very
much
larger
than
the
others
--
in
fact
,
it
could
scarcely
be
called
a
crumb
.
It
was
evident
that
he
wanted
that
piece
very
much
,
but
it
lay
quite
near
the
footstool
and
he
was
still
rather
timid
.
"
I
believe
he
wants
it
to
carry
to
his
family
in
the
wall
,
"
Sara
thought
.
"
If
I
do
not
stir
at
all
,
perhaps
he
will
come
and
get
it
.
"
She
scarcely
allowed
herself
to
breathe
,
she
was
so
deeply
interested
.
The
rat
shuffled
a
little
nearer
and
ate
a
few
more
crumbs
,
then
he
stopped
and
sniffed
delicately
,
giving
a
side
glance
at
the
occupant
of
the
footstool
;
then
he
darted
at
the
piece
of
bun
with
something
very
like
the
sudden
boldness
of
the
sparrow
,
and
the
instant
he
had
possession
of
it
fled
back
to
the
wall
,
slipped
down
a
crack
in
the
skirting
board
,
and
was
gone
.
"
I
knew
he
wanted
it
for
his
children
,
"
said
Sara
.
"
I
do
believe
I
could
make
friends
with
him
.
"
A
week
or
so
afterward
,
on
one
of
the
rare
nights
when
Ermengarde
found
it
safe
to
steal
up
to
the
attic
,
when
she
tapped
on
the
door
with
the
tips
of
her
fingers
Sara
did
not
come
to
her
for
two
or
three
minutes
.
There
was
,
indeed
,
such
a
silence
in
the
room
at
first
that
Ermengarde
wondered
if
she
could
have
fallen
asleep
.
Then
,
to
her
surprise
,
she
heard
her
utter
a
little
,
low
laugh
and
speak
coaxingly
to
someone
.
"
There
!
"
Ermengarde
heard
her
say
.
"
Take
it
and
go
home
,
Melchisedec
!
Go
home
to
your
wife
!
"
Almost
immediately
Sara
opened
the
door
,
and
when
she
did
so
she
found
Ermengarde
standing
with
alarmed
eyes
upon
the
threshold
.
"
Who
--
who
ARE
you
talking
to
,
Sara
?
"
she
gasped
out
.
Sara
drew
her
in
cautiously
,
but
she
looked
as
if
something
pleased
and
amused
her
.
