-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Фрэнсис Скотт Фицджеральд
-
- По эту сторону рая
-
- Стр. 179/348
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
for
"
Poor
Butterfly
"
had
been
the
song
of
that
last
year
.
The
war
seemed
scarcely
to
touch
them
and
it
might
have
been
one
of
the
senior
springs
of
the
past
,
except
for
the
drilling
every
other
afternoon
,
yet
Amory
realized
poignantly
that
this
was
the
last
spring
under
the
old
regime
.
"
This
is
the
great
protest
against
the
superman
,
"
said
Amory
.
"
I
suppose
so
,
"
Alec
agreed
.
"
He
's
absolutely
irreconcilable
with
any
Utopia
.
As
long
as
he
occurs
,
there
's
trouble
and
all
the
latent
evil
that
makes
a
crowd
list
and
sway
when
he
talks
.
"
"
And
of
course
all
that
he
is
is
a
gifted
man
without
a
moral
sense
.
"
"
That
's
all
.
I
think
the
worst
thing
to
contemplate
is
this
--
it
's
all
happened
before
,
how
soon
will
it
happen
again
?
Fifty
years
after
Waterloo
Napoleon
was
as
much
a
hero
to
English
school
children
as
Wellington
.
How
do
we
know
our
grandchildren
wo
n't
idolize
Von
Hindenburg
the
same
way
?
"
"
What
brings
it
about
?
"
"
Time
,
damn
it
,
and
the
historian
.
If
we
could
only
learn
to
look
on
evil
as
evil
,
whether
it
's
clothed
in
filth
or
monotony
or
magnificence
.
"
"
God
!
Have
n't
we
raked
the
universe
over
the
coals
for
four
years
?
"
Then
the
night
came
that
was
to
be
the
last
.
Tom
and
Amory
,
bound
in
the
morning
for
different
training-camps
,
paced
the
shadowy
walks
as
usual
and
seemed
still
to
see
around
them
the
faces
of
the
men
they
knew
.
