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- Стр. 11/143
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As
soon
as
I
heard
his
voice
,
I
felt
as
if
a
wind
had
swept
through
my
head
.
I
let
shoes
be
shoes
,
and
it
seemed
to
me
that
the
distracted
phase
of
mind
I
had
just
experienced
dated
from
a
long-vanished
period
,
maybe
a
year
or
two
back
,
and
was
about
to
be
quietly
effaced
from
my
memory
.
I
began
to
observe
the
old
fellow
.
Did
this
little
man
concern
me
in
any
way
?
Not
in
the
least
,
not
in
the
very
slightest
degree
!
Only
that
he
held
a
newspaper
in
his
hand
,
an
old
number
(
with
the
advertisement
sheet
on
the
outside
)
,
in
which
something
or
other
seemed
to
be
rolled
up
;
my
curiosity
was
aroused
,
and
I
could
not
take
my
eyes
away
from
this
paper
.
The
insane
idea
entered
my
head
that
it
might
be
a
quite
peculiar
newspaper
--
unique
of
its
kind
.
My
curiosity
increased
,
and
I
began
to
move
backwards
and
forwards
on
the
seat
.
It
might
contain
deeds
,
dangerous
documents
stolen
from
some
archive
or
other
;
something
floated
before
me
about
a
secret
treaty
--
a
conspiracy
.
The
man
sat
quietly
,
and
pondered
.
Why
did
he
not
carry
his
newspaper
as
every
other
person
carries
a
paper
,
with
its
name
out
?
What
species
of
cunning
lurked
under
that
?
He
did
not
seem
either
to
like
letting
his
package
out
of
his
hands
,
not
for
anything
in
the
world
;
perhaps
he
did
not
even
dare
trust
it
into
his
own
pocket
.
I
could
stake
my
life
there
was
something
at
the
bottom
of
that
package
--
I
considered
a
bit
.
Just
the
fact
of
finding
it
so
impossible
to
penetrate
this
mysterious
affair
distracted
me
with
curiosity
.
I
searched
my
pockets
for
something
to
offer
the
man
in
order
to
enter
into
conversation
with
him
,
took
hold
of
my
shaving-book
,
but
put
it
back
again
.
Suddenly
it
entered
my
head
to
be
utterly
audacious
;
I
slapped
my
empty
breast-pocket
,
and
said
:
"
May
I
offer
you
a
cigarette
?
"
"
Thank
you
!
"
The
man
did
not
smoke
;
he
had
to
give
it
up
to
spare
his
eyes
;
he
was
nearly
blind
.
Thank
you
very
much
all
the
same
.
Was
it
long
since
his
eyes
got
bad
?
In
that
case
,
perhaps
,
he
could
not
read
either
,
not
even
a
paper
?
No
,
not
even
the
newspaper
,
more
's
the
pity
.
The
man
looked
at
me
;
his
weak
eyes
were
each
covered
with
a
film
which
gave
them
a
glassy
appearance
;
his
gaze
grew
bleary
,
and
made
a
disgusting
impression
on
me
.
"
You
are
a
stranger
here
?
"
he
said
.
"
Yes
.
"
Could
he
not
even
read
the
name
of
the
paper
he
held
in
his
hand
?
"
Barely
.
"
For
that
matter
,
he
could
hear
directly
that
I
was
a
stranger
.
There
was
something
in
my
accent
which
told
him
.
It
did
not
need
much
;
he
could
hear
so
well
.
At
night
,
when
every
one
slept
,
he
could
hear
people
in
the
next
room
breathing
...
.
