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- Герберт Уеллс
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- Война миров
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- Стр. 57/99
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For
the
main
road
was
a
boiling
stream
of
people
,
a
torrent
of
human
beings
rushing
northward
,
one
pressing
on
another
.
A
great
bank
of
dust
,
white
and
luminous
in
the
blaze
of
the
sun
,
made
everything
within
twenty
feet
of
the
ground
grey
and
indistinct
and
was
perpetually
renewed
by
the
hurrying
feet
of
a
dense
crowd
of
horses
and
of
men
and
women
on
foot
,
and
by
the
wheels
of
vehicles
of
every
description
.
"
Way
!
"
my
brother
heard
voices
crying
.
"
Make
way
!
"
It
was
like
riding
into
the
smoke
of
a
fire
to
approach
the
meeting
point
of
the
lane
and
road
;
the
crowd
roared
like
a
fire
,
and
the
dust
was
hot
and
pungent
.
And
,
indeed
,
a
little
way
up
the
road
a
villa
was
burning
and
sending
rolling
masses
of
black
smoke
across
the
road
to
add
to
the
confusion
.
Two
men
came
past
them
.
Then
a
dirty
woman
,
carrying
a
heavy
bundle
and
weeping
.
A
lost
retriever
dog
,
with
hanging
tongue
,
circled
dubiously
round
them
,
scared
and
wretched
,
and
fled
at
my
brother
's
threat
.
So
much
as
they
could
see
of
the
road
Londonward
between
the
houses
to
the
right
was
a
tumultuous
stream
of
dirty
,
hurrying
people
,
pent
in
between
the
villas
on
either
side
;
the
black
heads
,
the
crowded
forms
,
grew
into
distinctness
as
they
rushed
towards
the
corner
,
hurried
past
,
and
merged
their
individuality
again
in
a
receding
multitude
that
was
swallowed
up
at
last
in
a
cloud
of
dust
.
"
Go
on
!
Go
on
!
"
cried
the
voices
.
"
Way
!
Way
!
"
One
man
's
hands
pressed
on
the
back
of
another
.
My
brother
stood
at
the
pony
's
head
.
Irresistibly
attracted
,
he
advanced
slowly
,
pace
by
pace
,
down
the
lane
.
Edgware
had
been
a
scene
of
confusion
,
Chalk
Farm
a
riotous
tumult
,
but
this
was
a
whole
population
in
movement
.
It
is
hard
to
imagine
that
host
.
It
had
no
character
of
its
own
.
The
figures
poured
out
past
the
corner
,
and
receded
with
their
backs
to
the
group
in
the
lane
.
Along
the
margin
came
those
who
were
on
foot
threatened
by
the
wheels
,
stumbling
in
the
ditches
,
blundering
into
one
another
.
The
carts
and
carriages
crowded
close
upon
one
another
,
making
little
way
for
those
swifter
and
more
impatient
vehicles
that
darted
forward
every
now
and
then
when
an
opportunity
showed
itself
of
doing
so
,
sending
the
people
scattering
against
the
fences
and
gates
of
the
villas
.
"
Push
on
!
"
was
the
cry
.
"
Push
on
!
They
are
coming
!
"
