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- Рэй Брэдбери
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- Марсианские хроники
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- Стр. 240/287
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He
honked
his
horn
on
every
turn
out
of
town
.
At
sunset
,
after
an
impossible
day
of
driving
,
he
pulled
to
the
roadside
,
kicked
off
his
tight
shoes
,
laid
himself
out
in
the
seat
,
and
slid
the
gray
Homburg
over
his
weary
eyes
.
His
breathing
became
slow
and
regular
.
The
wind
blew
and
the
stars
shone
gently
upon
him
in
the
new
dusk
.
The
Martian
mountains
lay
all
around
,
millions
of
years
old
.
Starlight
glittered
on
the
spires
of
a
little
Martian
town
,
no
bigger
than
a
game
of
chess
,
in
the
blue
hills
.
He
lay
in
the
half
-
place
between
awakeness
and
dreams
.
He
whispered
.
Genevieve
.
Oh
,
Genevieve
,
sweet
Genevieve
,
he
sang
softly
,
the
years
may
come
,
the
years
may
go
.
But
Genevieve
,
sweet
Genevieve
…
.
There
was
a
warmth
in
him
.
He
heard
her
quiet
sweet
cool
voice
singing
.
Hello
,
oh
,
hello
,
Walter
!
This
is
no
record
.
Where
are
you
,
Walter
,
where
are
you
?
He
sighed
,
putting
up
a
hand
to
touch
her
in
the
moonlight
.
Long
dark
hair
shaking
in
the
wind
;
beautiful
,
it
was
.
And
her
lips
like
red
peppermints
.
And
her
cheeks
like
fresh
-
cut
wet
roses
.
And
her
body
like
a
clear
vaporous
mist
,
while
her
soft
cool
sweet
voice
crooned
to
him
once
more
the
words
to
the
old
sad
song
,
Oh
,
Genevieve
,
sweet
Genevieve
,
the
years
may
come
,
the
years
may
go
…
He
slept
.
He
reached
New
Texas
City
at
midnight
.
He
halted
before
the
Deluxe
Beauty
Salon
,
yelling
.
He
expected
her
to
rush
out
,
all
perfume
,
all
laughter
.
Nothing
happened
.
