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- Теодор Драйзер
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- Американская трагедия
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- Стр. 318/598
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And
then
once
more
the
voice
of
that
weird
,
contemptuous
,
mocking
,
lonely
bird
.
Kit
,
kit
,
kit
,
Ca-a-a-ah
!
Kit
,
kit
,
kit
,
Ca-a-a-ah
!
Kit
,
kit
,
kit
,
Ca-a-a-ah
!
The
cry
of
that
devilish
bird
upon
that
dead
limb
--
the
wier-wier
.
And
then
Clyde
,
with
the
sound
of
Roberta
's
cries
still
in
his
ears
,
that
last
frantic
,
white
,
appealing
look
in
her
eyes
,
swimming
heavily
,
gloomily
and
darkly
to
shore
.
And
the
thought
that
,
after
all
,
he
had
not
really
killed
her
.
No
,
no
.
Thank
God
for
that
.
He
had
not
.
And
yet
(
stepping
up
on
the
near-by
bank
and
shaking
the
water
from
his
clothes
)
had
he
?
Or
,
had
he
not
?
For
had
he
not
refused
to
go
to
her
rescue
,
and
when
he
might
have
saved
her
,
and
when
the
fault
for
casting
her
in
the
water
,
however
accidentally
,
was
so
truly
his
?
And
yet
--
and
yet
--
The
dusk
and
silence
of
a
closing
day
.
A
concealed
spot
in
the
depths
of
the
same
sheltering
woods
where
alone
and
dripping
,
his
dry
bag
near
,
Clyde
stood
,
and
by
waiting
,
sought
to
dry
himself
.
But
in
the
interim
,
removing
from
the
side
of
the
bag
the
unused
tripod
of
his
camera
and
seeking
an
obscure
,
dead
log
farther
in
the
woods
,
hiding
it
.
Had
any
one
seen
?
Was
any
one
looking
?
Then
returning
and
wondering
as
to
the
direction
!
He
must
go
west
and
then
south
.
He
must
not
get
turned
about
!
But
the
repeated
cry
of
that
bird
--
harsh
,
nerve
shaking
.
And
then
the
gloom
,
in
spite
of
the
summer
stars
And
a
youth
making
his
way
through
a
dark
,
uninhabited
wood
,
a
dry
straw
hat
upon
his
head
,
a
bag
in
his
hand
,
walking
briskly
and
yet
warily
--
south
--
south
.
Cataraqui
County
extending
from
the
northernmost
line
of
the
village
known
as
Three
Mile
Bay
on
the
south
to
the
Canadian
border
,
on
the
north
a
distance
of
fifty
miles
.
And
from
Senaschet
and
Indian
Lakes
on
the
east
to
the
Rock
and
Scarf
Rivers
on
the
west
--
a
width
of
thirty
miles
.
Its
greater
portion
covered
by
uninhabited
forests
and
lakes
,
yet
dotted
here
and
there
with
such
villages
and
hamlets
as
Koontz
,
Grass
Lake
,
North
Wallace
,
Brown
Lake
,
with
Bridgeburg
,
the
county
seat
,
numbering
no
less
than
two
thousand
souls
of
the
fifteen
thousand
in
the
entire
county
.
And
the
central
square
of
the
town
occupied
by
the
old
and
yet
not
ungraceful
county
courthouse
,
a
cupola
with
a
clock
and
some
pigeons
surmounting
it
,
the
four
principal
business
streets
of
the
small
town
facing
it
.
In
the
office
of
the
County
Coroner
in
the
northeast
corner
of
the
building
on
Friday
,
July
ninth
,
one
Fred
Heit
,
coroner
,
a
large
and
broad-shouldered
individual
with
a
set
of
gray-brown
whiskers
such
as
might
have
graced
a
Mormon
elder
.
His
face
was
large
and
his
hands
and
his
feet
also
.
And
his
girth
was
proportionate
.
At
the
time
that
this
presentation
begins
,
about
two-thirty
in
the
afternoon
,
he
was
lethargically
turning
the
leaves
of
a
mail-order
catalogue
for
which
his
wife
had
asked
him
to
write
.
And
while
deciphering
from
its
pages
the
price
of
shoes
,
jackets
,
hats
,
and
caps
for
his
five
omnivorous
children
,
a
greatcoat
for
himself
of
soothing
proportions
,
high
collar
,
broad
belt
,
large
,
impressive
buttons
chancing
to
take
his
eye
,
he
had
paused
to
consider
regretfully
that
the
family
budget
of
three
thousand
dollars
a
year
would
never
permit
of
so
great
luxury
this
coming
winter
,
particularly
since
his
wife
,
Ella
,
had
had
her
mind
upon
a
fur
coat
for
at
least
three
winters
past
.
