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- Герберт Уеллс
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- Первые люди на Луне
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- Стр. 157/157
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Across
the
last
letters
of
helium
slashes
the
resumption
of
that
obliterating
trace
Note
that
word
"
secret
,
"
for
on
that
,
and
that
alone
,
I
base
my
interpretation
of
the
message
that
follows
,
the
last
message
,
as
both
Mr.
Wendigee
and
myself
now
believe
it
to
be
,
that
he
is
ever
likely
to
send
us
.
On
this
unsatisfactory
manner
the
penultimate
message
of
Cavor
dies
out
.
One
seems
to
see
him
away
there
in
the
blue
obscurity
amidst
his
apparatus
intently
signalling
us
to
the
last
,
all
unaware
of
the
curtain
of
confusion
that
drops
between
us
;
all
unaware
,
too
,
of
the
final
dangers
that
even
then
must
have
been
creeping
upon
him
.
His
disastrous
want
of
vulgar
common
sense
had
utterly
betrayed
him
.
He
had
talked
of
war
,
he
had
talked
of
all
the
strength
and
irrational
violence
of
men
,
of
their
insatiable
aggressions
,
their
tireless
futility
of
conflict
.
He
had
filled
the
whole
moon
world
with
this
impression
of
our
race
,
and
then
I
think
it
is
plain
that
he
made
the
most
fatal
admission
that
upon
himself
alone
hung
the
possibility
--
at
least
for
a
long
time
--
of
any
further
men
reaching
the
moon
.
The
line
the
cold
,
inhuman
reason
of
the
moon
would
take
seems
plain
enough
to
me
,
and
a
suspicion
of
it
,
and
then
perhaps
some
sudden
sharp
realisation
of
it
,
must
have
come
to
him
.
One
imagines
him
about
the
moon
with
the
remorse
of
this
fatal
indiscretion
growing
in
his
mind
.
During
a
certain
time
I
am
inclined
to
guess
the
Grand
Lunar
was
deliberating
the
new
situation
,
and
for
all
that
time
Cavor
may
have
gone
as
free
as
ever
he
had
gone
.
But
obstacles
of
some
sort
prevented
his
getting
to
his
electromagnetic
apparatus
again
after
that
message
I
have
just
given
.
For
some
days
we
received
nothing
.
Perhaps
he
was
having
fresh
audiences
,
and
trying
to
evade
his
previous
admissions
.
Who
can
hope
to
guess
?
And
then
suddenly
,
like
a
cry
in
the
night
,
like
a
cry
that
is
followed
by
a
stillness
,
came
the
last
message
It
is
the
briefest
fragment
,
the
broken
beginnings
of
two
sentences
.
The
first
was
:
"
I
was
mad
to
let
the
Grand
Lunar
know
--
"
There
was
an
interval
of
perhaps
a
minute
.
One
imagines
some
interruption
from
without
.
A
departure
from
the
instrument
--
a
dreadful
hesitation
among
the
looming
masses
of
apparatus
in
that
dim
,
blue-lit
cavern
--
a
sudden
rush
back
to
it
,
full
of
a
resolve
that
came
too
late
.
Then
,
as
if
it
were
hastily
transmitted
came
:
"
Cavorite
made
as
follows
:
take
--
"
There
followed
one
word
,
a
quite
unmeaning
word
as
it
stands
:
"
uless
.
"
And
that
is
all
.
It
may
be
he
made
a
hasty
attempt
to
spell
"
useless
"
when
his
fate
was
close
upon
him
.
Whatever
it
was
that
was
happening
about
that
apparatus
we
can
not
tell
.
Whatever
it
was
we
shall
never
,
I
know
,
receive
another
message
from
the
moon
.
For
my
own
part
a
vivid
dream
has
come
to
my
help
,
and
I
see
,
almost
as
plainly
as
though
I
had
seen
it
in
actual
fact
,
a
blue-lit
shadowy
dishevelled
Cavor
struggling
in
the
grip
of
these
insect
Selenites
,
struggling
ever
more
desperately
and
hopelessly
as
they
press
upon
him
,
shouting
,
expostulating
,
perhaps
even
at
last
fighting
,
and
being
forced
backwards
step
by
step
out
of
all
speech
or
sign
of
his
fellows
,
for
evermore
into
the
Unknown
--
into
the
dark
,
into
that
silence
that
has
no
end
...