-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Герберт Уеллс
-
- Война миров
-
- Стр. 75/99
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
He
made
a
sudden
movement
backward
,
and
I
,
fearful
that
we
were
observed
,
crouched
in
a
spasm
of
terror
.
He
came
sliding
down
the
rubbish
and
crept
beside
me
in
the
darkness
,
inarticulate
,
gesticulating
,
and
for
a
moment
I
shared
his
panic
.
His
gesture
suggested
a
resignation
of
the
slit
,
and
after
a
little
while
my
curiosity
gave
me
courage
,
and
I
rose
up
,
stepped
across
him
,
and
clambered
up
to
it
.
At
first
I
could
see
no
reason
for
his
frantic
behaviour
.
The
twilight
had
now
come
,
the
stars
were
little
and
faint
,
but
the
pit
was
illuminated
by
the
flickering
green
fire
that
came
from
the
aluminium-making
.
The
whole
picture
was
a
flickering
scheme
of
green
gleams
and
shifting
rusty
black
shadows
,
strangely
trying
to
the
eyes
.
Over
and
through
it
all
went
the
bats
,
heeding
it
not
at
all
.
The
sprawling
Martians
were
no
longer
to
be
seen
,
the
mound
of
blue-green
powder
had
risen
to
cover
them
from
sight
,
and
a
fighting-machine
,
with
its
legs
contracted
,
crumpled
,
and
abbreviated
,
stood
across
the
corner
of
the
pit
.
And
then
,
amid
the
clangour
of
the
machinery
,
came
a
drifting
suspicion
of
human
voices
,
that
I
entertained
at
first
only
to
dismiss
.
I
crouched
,
watching
this
fighting-machine
closely
,
satisfying
myself
now
for
the
first
time
that
the
hood
did
indeed
contain
a
Martian
.
As
the
green
flames
lifted
I
could
see
the
oily
gleam
of
his
integument
and
the
brightness
of
his
eyes
.
And
suddenly
I
heard
a
yell
,
and
saw
a
long
tentacle
reaching
over
the
shoulder
of
the
machine
to
the
little
cage
that
hunched
upon
its
back
.
Then
something
--
something
struggling
violently
--
was
lifted
high
against
the
sky
,
a
black
,
vague
enigma
against
the
starlight
;
and
as
this
black
object
came
down
again
,
I
saw
by
the
green
brightness
that
it
was
a
man
.
For
an
instant
he
was
clearly
visible
.
He
was
a
stout
,
ruddy
,
middle-aged
man
,
well
dressed
;
three
days
before
,
he
must
have
been
walking
the
world
,
a
man
of
considerable
consequence
.
I
could
see
his
staring
eyes
and
gleams
of
light
on
his
studs
and
watch
chain
.
He
vanished
behind
the
mound
,
and
for
a
moment
there
was
silence
.
And
then
began
a
shrieking
and
a
sustained
and
cheerful
hooting
from
the
Martians
.
I
slid
down
the
rubbish
,
struggled
to
my
feet
,
clapped
my
hands
over
my
ears
,
and
bolted
into
the
scullery
.
The
curate
,
who
had
been
crouching
silently
with
his
arms
over
his
head
,
looked
up
as
I
passed
,
cried
out
quite
loudly
at
my
desertion
of
him
,
and
came
running
after
me
.
That
night
,
as
we
lurked
in
the
scullery
,
balanced
between
our
horror
and
the
terrible
fascination
this
peeping
had
,
although
I
felt
an
urgent
need
of
action
I
tried
in
vain
to
conceive
some
plan
of
escape
;
but
afterwards
,
during
the
second
day
,
I
was
able
to
consider
our
position
with
great
clearness
.
The
curate
,
I
found
,
was
quite
incapable
of
discussion
;
this
new
and
culminating
atrocity
had
robbed
him
of
all
vestiges
of
reason
or
forethought
.
Practically
he
had
already
sunk
to
the
level
of
an
animal
.
But
as
the
saying
goes
,
I
gripped
myself
with
both
hands
.
It
grew
upon
my
mind
,
once
I
could
face
the
facts
,
that
terrible
as
our
position
was
,
there
was
as
yet
no
justification
for
absolute
despair
.
Our
chief
chance
lay
in
the
possibility
of
the
Martians
making
the
pit
nothing
more
than
a
temporary
encampment
.
Or
even
if
they
kept
it
permanently
,
they
might
not
consider
it
necessary
to
guard
it
,
and
a
chance
of
escape
might
be
afforded
us
.
I
also
weighed
very
carefully
the
possibility
of
our
digging
a
way
out
in
a
direction
away
from
the
pit
,
but
the
chances
of
our
emerging
within
sight
of
some
sentinel
fighting-machine
seemed
at
first
too
great
.
And
I
should
have
had
to
do
all
the
digging
myself
.
The
curate
would
certainly
have
failed
me
.
It
was
on
the
third
day
,
if
my
memory
serves
me
right
,
that
I
saw
the
lad
killed
.
It
was
the
only
occasion
on
which
I
actually
saw
the
Martians
feed
.
After
that
experience
I
avoided
the
hole
in
the
wall
for
the
better
part
of
a
day
.
I
went
into
the
scullery
,
removed
the
door
,
and
spent
some
hours
digging
with
my
hatchet
as
silently
as
possible
;
but
when
I
had
made
a
hole
about
a
couple
of
feet
deep
the
loose
earth
collapsed
noisily
,
and
I
did
not
dare
continue
.
I
lost
heart
,
and
lay
down
on
the
scullery
floor
for
a
long
time
,
having
no
spirit
even
to
move
.
And
after
that
I
abandoned
altogether
the
idea
of
escaping
by
excavation
.
It
says
much
for
the
impression
the
Martians
had
made
upon
me
that
at
first
I
entertained
little
or
no
hope
of
our
escape
being
brought
about
by
their
overthrow
through
any
human
effort
.
But
on
the
fourth
or
fifth
night
I
heard
a
sound
like
heavy
guns
.
It
was
very
late
in
the
night
,
and
the
moon
was
shining
brightly
.
The
Martians
had
taken
away
the
excavating-machine
,
and
,
save
for
a
fighting-machine
that
stood
in
the
remoter
bank
of
the
pit
and
a
handling-machine
that
was
buried
out
of
my
sight
in
a
corner
of
the
pit
immediately
beneath
my
peephole
,
the
place
was
deserted
by
them
.
Except
for
the
pale
glow
from
the
handling-machine
and
the
bars
and
patches
of
white
moonlight
the
pit
was
in
darkness
,
and
,
except
for
the
clinking
of
the
handling-machine
,
quite
still
.
That
night
was
a
beautiful
serenity
;
save
for
one
planet
,
the
moon
seemed
to
have
the
sky
to
herself
.
I
heard
a
dog
howling
,
and
that
familiar
sound
it
was
that
made
me
listen
.
Then
I
heard
quite
distinctly
a
booming
exactly
like
the
sound
of
great
guns
.
Six
distinct
reports
I
counted
,
and
after
a
long
interval
six
again
.
And
that
was
all
.
It
was
on
the
sixth
day
of
our
imprisonment
that
I
peeped
for
the
last
time
,
and
presently
found
myself
alone
.
Instead
of
keeping
close
to
me
and
trying
to
oust
me
from
the
slit
,
the
curate
had
gone
back
into
the
scullery
.
I
was
struck
by
a
sudden
thought
.
I
went
back
quickly
and
quietly
into
the
scullery
.
In
the
darkness
I
heard
the
curate
drinking
.
I
snatched
in
the
darkness
,
and
my
fingers
caught
a
bottle
of
burgundy
.
For
a
few
minutes
there
was
a
tussle
.
The
bottle
struck
the
floor
and
broke
,
and
I
desisted
and
rose
.
We
stood
panting
and
threatening
each
other
.
In
the
end
I
planted
myself
between
him
and
the
food
,
and
told
him
of
my
determination
to
begin
a
discipline
.
I
divided
the
food
in
the
pantry
,
into
rations
to
last
us
ten
days
.
I
would
not
let
him
eat
any
more
that
day
.
In
the
afternoon
he
made
a
feeble
effort
to
get
at
the
food
.
I
had
been
dozing
,
but
in
an
instant
I
was
awake
.
All
day
and
all
night
we
sat
face
to
face
,
I
weary
but
resolute
,
and
he
weeping
and
complaining
of
his
immediate
hunger
.
It
was
,
I
know
,
a
night
and
a
day
,
but
to
me
it
seemed
--
it
seems
now
--
an
inter
--
minable
length
of
time
.
