-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Колин Маккалоу
-
- Поющие в терновнике
-
- Стр. 142/535
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
He
kicked
the
chestnut
mare
and
cantered
ahead
of
Meggie
down
the
track
to
the
creek
,
longing
to
weep
;
for
until
he
smelled
the
future
adornments
of
Mary
Carson
's
coffin
it
had
not
actually
impinged
on
his
thinking
brain
as
an
imminent
fact
.
He
would
be
going
away
very
soon
.
Too
many
thoughts
,
too
many
emotions
,
all
of
them
ungovernable
.
They
would
n't
leave
him
in
Gilly
a
day
after
learning
the
terms
of
that
incredible
will
;
they
would
recall
him
to
Sydney
immediately
.
Immediately
!
He
fled
from
his
pain
,
never
having
known
such
pain
,
but
it
kept
pace
with
him
effortlessly
.
It
was
n't
something
in
a
vague
sometime
;
it
was
going
to
happen
immediately
.
And
he
could
almost
see
Paddy
's
face
,
the
revulsion
,
the
turning
away
.
After
this
he
would
n't
be
welcome
on
Drogheda
,
and
he
would
never
see
Meggie
again
.
The
disciplining
began
then
,
hammered
by
hoofs
and
in
a
sensation
of
flying
.
It
was
better
so
,
better
so
,
better
so
.
Galloping
on
and
on
.
Yes
,
it
would
surely
hurt
less
then
,
tucked
safely
in
some
cell
in
a
bishop
's
palace
,
hurt
less
and
less
,
until
finally
even
the
ache
faded
from
consciousness
.
It
had
to
be
better
so
.
Better
than
staying
in
Gilly
to
watch
her
change
into
a
creature
he
did
n't
want
,
then
have
to
marry
her
one
day
to
some
unknown
man
.
Out
of
sight
,
out
of
mind
.
Then
what
was
he
doing
with
her
now
,
riding
through
the
stand
of
box
and
coolibah
on
the
far
side
of
the
creek
?
He
could
n't
seem
to
think
why
,
he
only
felt
the
pain
.
Not
the
pain
of
betrayal
;
there
was
n't
room
for
that
.
Only
for
the
pain
of
leaving
her
.
"
Father
,
Father
!
I
ca
n't
keep
up
with
you
!
Slow
down
,
Father
,
please
!
"
It
was
the
call
to
duty
,
and
reality
.
Like
a
man
in
slow
motion
he
wrenched
the
mare
around
,
sat
it
until
it
had
danced
out
its
excitement
.
And
waited
for
Meggie
to
catch
him
up
.
That
was
the
trouble
.
Meggie
was
catching
him
up
.
Close
by
them
was
the
roar
of
the
borehead
,
a
great
steaming
pool
smelling
of
sulphur
,
with
a
pipe
like
a
ship
's
ventilator
jetting
boiling
water
into
its
depths
.
All
around
the
perimeter
of
the
little
elevated
lake
like
spokes
from
a
wheel
's
hub
,
the
bore
drains
dribbled
off
across
the
plain
whiskered
in
incongruously
emerald
grass
.
The
banks
of
the
pool
were
slimy
grey
mud
,
and
the
freshwater
crayfish
called
yabbies
lived
in
the
mud
.
Father
Ralph
started
to
laugh
.
"
It
smells
like
Hell
,
Meggie
,
does
n't
it
?
Sulphur
and
brimstone
,
right
here
on
her
own
property
,
in
her
own
backyard
.
She
ought
to
recognize
the
smell
when
she
gets
there
decked
in
roses
,
ought
n't
she
?
Oh
,
Meggie
...
"
The
horses
were
trained
to
stand
on
a
dangling
rein
;
there
were
no
fences
nearby
,
and
no
trees
closer
than
half
a
mile
away
.
But
there
was
a
log
on
the
side
of
the
pool
farthest
from
the
borehead
itself
,
where
the
water
was
cooler
.
It
was
the
seat
provided
for
winter
bathers
as
they
dried
their
feet
and
legs
.
