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- Белые люди
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- Стр. 37/45
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“
If
,
after
it
was
over
,
a
man
awakened
as
you
said
and
found
himself
—
the
self
he
knew
,
but
light
,
free
,
splendid
—
remembering
all
the
ages
of
dark
,
unknowing
dread
,
of
horror
of
some
black
,
aimless
plunge
,
and
suddenly
seeing
all
the
childish
uselessness
of
it
—
how
he
would
stand
and
smile
!
How
he
would
stand
and
SMILE
!
”
Never
had
I
understood
anything
more
clearly
than
I
understood
then
.
Yes
,
yes
!
That
would
be
it
.
Remembering
all
the
waste
of
fear
,
how
he
would
stand
and
SMILE
!
He
was
smiling
himself
,
the
golden
gorse
about
him
already
losing
its
flame
in
the
light
returning
mist
-
wraiths
closing
again
over
it
,
when
I
heard
a
sound
far
away
and
high
up
the
moor
.
It
sounded
like
the
playing
of
a
piper
.
He
did
not
seem
to
notice
it
.
“
We
shall
be
shut
in
again
,
”
he
said
.
“
How
mysterious
it
is
,
this
opening
and
closing
!
I
like
it
more
than
anything
else
.
Let
us
sit
down
,
Ysobel
.
”
He
spread
the
plaid
we
had
brought
to
sit
on
,
and
laid
on
it
the
little
strapped
basket
Jean
had
made
ready
for
us
.
He
shook
the
mist
drops
from
our
own
plaids
,
and
as
I
was
about
to
sit
down
I
stopped
a
moment
to
listen
.
“
That
is
a
tune
I
never
heard
on
the
pipes
before
,
”
I
said
.
“
What
is
a
piper
doing
out
on
the
moor
so
early
?
”
He
listened
also
.
“
It
must
be
far
away
.
I
don
’
t
hear
it
,
”
he
said
.
“
Perhaps
it
is
a
bird
whistling
.
”
“
It
is
far
away
,
”
I
answered
,
“
but
it
is
not
a
bird
.
It
’
s
the
pipes
,
and
playing
such
a
strange
tune
.
There
!
It
has
stopped
!
”
But
it
was
not
silent
long
;
I
heard
the
tune
begin
again
much
nearer
,
and
the
piper
was
plainly
coming
toward
us
.
I
turned
my
head
.
