-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Колин Маккалоу
-
- Поющие в терновнике
-
- Стр. 61/535
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
From
freezing
night
it
turned
to
scorching
day
as
the
sun
climbed
toward
its
zenith
and
the
train
racketed
on
and
on
and
on
,
stopping
occasionally
in
some
tiny
town
full
of
bicycles
and
horse-drawn
vehicles
;
cars
were
scarce
out
here
,
it
seemed
.
Paddy
opened
both
the
windows
all
the
way
in
spite
of
the
soot
which
swirled
in
and
settled
on
everything
;
it
was
so
hot
they
were
gasping
,
their
heavy
New
Zealand
winter
clothing
sticking
and
itching
.
It
did
not
seem
possible
that
anywhere
outside
of
hell
could
be
so
hot
in
winter
.
Gillanbone
came
with
the
dying
sun
,
a
strange
small
collection
of
ramshackle
wooden
and
corrugated
iron
buildings
along
either
side
of
one
dusty
wide
street
,
treeless
and
tired
.
The
melting
sun
had
licked
a
golden
paste
over
everything
,
and
gave
the
town
a
transient
gilded
dignity
which
faded
even
as
they
stood
on
the
platform
watching
.
It
became
once
more
a
typical
settlement
on
the
very
edge
of
the
Back
of
Beyond
,
a
last
outpost
in
a
steadily
diminishing
rainfall
belt
;
not
far
away
westward
began
two
thousand
miles
of
the
Never-Never
,
the
desert
lands
where
it
could
not
rain
.
A
resplendent
black
car
was
standing
in
the
station
yard
,
and
striding
unconcernedly
toward
them
through
the
inches-deep
dust
came
a
priest
.
His
long
soutane
made
him
seem
a
figure
out
of
the
past
,
as
if
he
did
not
move
on
feet
like
ordinary
men
,
but
drifted
dreamlike
;
the
dust
rose
and
billowed
around
him
,
red
in
the
last
of
the
sunset
.
"
Hello
,
I
'm
Father
de
Bricassart
,
"
he
said
,
holding
out
his
hand
to
Paddy
.
"
You
have
to
be
Mary
's
brother
;
you
're
the
living
image
of
her
.
"
He
turned
to
Fee
and
lifted
her
limp
hand
to
his
lips
,
smiling
in
genuine
astonishment
;
no
one
could
spot
a
gentlewoman
quicker
than
Father
Ralph
.
"
Why
,
you
're
beautiful
!
"
he
said
,
as
if
it
were
the
most
natural
remark
in
the
world
for
a
priest
to
make
,
and
then
his
eyes
went
onward
to
the
boys
,
standing
together
in
a
huddle
.
They
rested
for
a
moment
with
puzzled
bewilderment
on
Frank
,
who
had
charge
of
the
baby
,
and
ticked
off
each
boy
as
they
got
smaller
and
smaller
.
Behind
them
,
all
by
herself
,
Meggie
stood
gaping
up
at
him
with
her
mouth
open
,
as
if
she
were
looking
at
God
.
Without
seeming
to
notice
how
his
fine
serge
robe
wallowed
in
the
dust
,
he
stepped
past
the
boys
and
squatted
down
to
hold
Meggie
between
his
hands
,
and
they
were
firm
,
gentle
,
kind
.
"
Well
!
And
who
are
you
?
"
he
asked
her
,
smiling
.
"
Meggie
,
"
she
said
.
"
Her
name
's
Meghann
.
"
Frank
scowled
,
hating
this
beautiful
man
,
his
stunning
height
.
"
My
favorite
name
,
Meghann
.
"
He
straightened
,
but
held
Meggie
's
hand
in
his
.
"
It
will
be
better
for
you
to
stay
at
the
presbytery
tonight
,
"
he
said
,
leading
Meggie
toward
the
car
.
"
I
'll
drive
you
out
to
Drogheda
in
the
morning
;
it
's
too
far
after
the
train
ride
from
Sydney
.
"
Aside
from
the
Hotel
Imperial
,
the
Catholic
church
,
school
,
convent
and
presbytery
were
the
only
brick
edifices
in
Gillanbone
,
even
the
big
public
school
having
to
content
itself
with
timber
frame
.
Now
that
darkness
had
fallen
,
the
air
had
grown
incredibly
chill
;
but
in
the
presbytery
lounge
a
huge
log
fire
was
blazing
,
and
the
smell
of
food
came
tantalizingly
from
somewhere
beyond
.
The
housekeeper
,
a
wizened
old
Scotswoman
with
amazing
energy
,
bustled
about
showing
them
their
rooms
,
chattering
all
the
while
in
a
broad
western
Highlands
accent
.
Used
to
the
touch-me-not
reserve
of
the
Wahine
priests
,
the
Clearys
found
it
hard
to
cope
with
Father
Ralph
's
easy
,
cheerful
bonhomie
.
Only
Paddy
thawed
,
for
he
could
remember
the
friendliness
of
the
priests
in
his
native
Galway
,
their
closeness
to
lesser
beings
.
