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- Рэй Брэдбери
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- Марсианские хроники
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- Стр. 164/287
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The
door
to
the
House
of
Usher
creaked
wide
.
A
moist
wind
issued
forth
.
There
was
an
immense
sighing
and
moaning
,
like
a
subterranean
bellows
breathing
in
the
lost
catacombs
.
A
rat
pranced
across
the
floor
stones
.
Garrett
,
crying
out
,
gave
it
a
kick
.
It
fell
over
,
the
rat
did
,
and
from
its
nylon
fur
streamed
an
incredible
horde
of
metal
fleas
.
"
Amazing
!
"
Garrett
bent
to
see
.
An
old
witch
sat
in
a
niche
,
quivering
her
wax
hands
over
some
orange
-
and
-
blue
tarot
cards
.
She
jerked
her
head
and
hissed
through
her
toothless
mouth
at
Garrett
,
tapping
her
greasy
cards
.
"
Death
!
"
she
cried
.
"
Now
that
’
s
the
sort
of
thing
I
mean
,
"
said
Garrett
.
"
Deplorable
!
"
"
I
’
ll
let
you
burn
her
personally
.
"
"
Will
you
,
really
?
"
Garrett
was
pleased
.
Then
he
frowned
.
"
I
must
say
you
’
re
taking
this
all
so
well
.
"
"
It
was
enough
just
to
be
able
to
create
this
place
.
To
be
able
to
say
I
did
it
.
To
say
I
nurtured
a
medieval
atmosphere
in
a
modern
,
incredulous
world
.
"
