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- Рэй Брэдбери
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- Марсианские хроники
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- Стр. 116/287
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Water
ran
down
his
nose
into
his
lips
.
Another
drop
hit
his
eye
,
blurring
it
,
Another
splashed
his
chin
.
The
rain
.
Raw
,
gentle
,
and
easy
,
it
mizzled
out
of
the
high
air
,
a
special
elixir
,
tasting
of
spells
and
stars
and
air
,
carrying
a
peppery
dust
in
it
,
and
moving
like
a
rare
light
sherry
on
his
tongue
.
Rain
.
He
sat
up
.
He
let
the
blanket
fall
and
his
blue
denim
shirt
spot
,
while
the
rain
took
on
more
solid
drops
.
The
fire
looked
as
though
an
invisible
animal
were
dancing
on
it
,
crushing
it
,
until
it
was
angry
smoke
.
The
rain
fell
.
The
great
black
lid
of
sky
cracked
in
six
powdery
blue
chips
,
like
a
marvelous
crackled
glaze
,
and
rushed
down
.
He
saw
ten
billion
rain
crystals
,
hesitating
long
enough
to
be
photographed
by
the
electrical
display
.
Then
darkness
and
water
.
He
was
drenched
to
the
skin
,
but
he
held
his
face
up
and
let
the
water
hit
his
eyelids
,
laughing
.
He
clapped
his
hands
together
and
stepped
up
and
walked
around
his
little
camp
,
and
it
was
one
o
’
clock
in
the
morning
.
It
rained
steadily
for
two
hours
and
then
stopped
.
The
stars
came
out
,
freshly
washed
and
clearer
than
ever
.
Changing
into
dry
clothes
from
his
cellophane
pack
,
Mr
.
Benjamin
Driscoll
lay
down
and
went
happily
to
sleep
.
The
sun
rose
slowly
among
the
hills
.
It
broke
out
upon
the
land
quietly
and
wakened
Mr
.
Driscoll
where
he
lay
.
