О дивный новый мир/Oh brave new world (Олдос Хаксли). Страница 172 из 175

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"

The

whip

,

"

answered

a

hundred

voices

confusedly

.

"

Do

the

whipping

stunt

.

Let

’

s

see

the

whipping

stunt

.

"

Then

,

in

unison

and

on

a

slow

,

heavy

rhythm

,

"

We

-

want

?

the

whip

,

"

shouted

a

group

at

the

end

of

the

line

.

"

We

–

want

–

the

whip

.

"

Others

at

once

took

up

the

cry

,

and

the

phrase

was

repeated

,

parrot

-

fashion

,

again

and

again

,

with

an

ever

-

growing

volume

of

sound

,

until

,

by

the

seventh

or

eighth

reiteration

,

no

other

word

was

being

spoken

.

"

We

–

want

–

the

whip

.

"

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They

were

all

crying

together

;

and

,

intoxicated

by

the

noise

,

the

unanimity

,

the

sense

of

rhythmical

atonement

,

they

might

,

it

seemed

,

have

gone

on

for

hours

-

almost

indefinitely

.

But

at

about

the

twenty

-

fifth

repetition

the

proceedings

were

startlingly

interrupted

.

Yet

another

helicopter

had

arrived

from

across

the

Hog

’

s

Back

,

hung

poised

above

the

crowd

,

then

dropped

within

a

few

yards

of

where

the

Savage

was

standing

,

in

the

open

space

between

the

line

of

sightseers

and

the

lighthouse

.

The

roar

of

the

air

screws

momentarily

drowned

the

shouting

;

then

,

as

the

machine

touched

the

ground

and

the

engines

were

turned

off

:

"

We

–

want

–

the

whip

;

we

–

want

–

the

whip

,

"

broke

out

again

in

the

same

loud

,

insistent

monotone

.

The

door

of

the

helicopter

opened

,

and

out

stepped

,

first

a

fair

and

ruddy

-

faced

young

man

,

then

,

in

green

velveteen

shorts

,

white

shirt

,

and

jockey

cap

,

a

young

woman

.

At

the

sight

of

the

young

woman

,

the

Savage

started

,

recoiled

,

turned

pale

.

The

young

woman

stood

,

smiling

at

him

–

an

uncertain

,

imploring

,

almost

abject

smile

.

The

seconds

passed

.

Her

lips

moved

,

she

was

saying

something

;

but

the

sound

of

her

voice

was

covered

by

the

loud

reiterated

refrain

of

the

sightseers

.

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"

We

–

want

–

the

whip

!

We

–

want

–

the

whip

!

"

The

young

woman

pressed

both

hands

to

her

left

side

,

and

on

that

peach

-

bright

,

doll

-

beautiful

face

of

hers

appeared

a

strangely

incongruous

expression

of

yearning

distress

.

Her

blue

eyes

seemed

to

grow

larger

,

brighter

;

and

suddenly

two

tears

rolled

down

her

cheeks

.

Inaudibly

,

she

spoke

again

;

then

,

with

a

quick

,

impassioned

gesture

stretched

out

her

arms

towards

the

Savage

,

stepped

forward

.

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