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- Рэй Брэдбери
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- Стр. 157/287
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And
it
was
inevitable
that
some
of
these
people
pushed
back
…
"
’
During
the
whole
of
a
dull
,
dark
,
and
soundless
day
in
the
autumn
of
the
year
,
when
the
clouds
hung
oppressively
low
in
the
heavens
,
I
had
been
passing
alone
,
on
horseback
.
through
a
singularly
dreary
tract
of
country
,
and
at
length
found
myself
,
as
the
shades
of
evening
drew
on
,
within
view
of
the
melancholy
House
of
Usher
…
’
"
Mr
.
William
Stendahl
paused
in
his
quotation
.
There
,
upon
a
low
black
hill
,
stood
the
House
,
its
cornerstone
bearing
the
inscription
2005
A
.
D
.
Mr
.
Bigelow
,
the
architect
,
said
,
"
It
’
s
completed
.
Here
’
s
the
key
,
Mr
.
Stendahl
.
"
The
two
men
stood
together
silently
in
the
quiet
autumn
afternoon
.
Blueprints
rustled
on
the
raven
grass
at
their
feet
.
"
The
House
of
Usher
,
"
said
Mr
.
Stendahl
with
pleasure
.
"
Planned
,
built
,
bought
,
paid
for
.
Wouldn
’
t
Mr
.
Poe
be
delighted
?
"
Mr
.
Bigelow
squinted
.
"
Is
it
everything
you
wanted
,
sir
?
"
"
Yes
!
"
"
Is
the
color
right
?
Is
it
desolate
and
terrible
?
"
"
Very
desolate
,
very
terrible
!
"
