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- Возвращение на родину
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“
But
,
Diggory
—
would
a
woman
,
who
had
quite
forgiven
her
son
,
say
,
when
she
felt
herself
ill
on
the
way
to
his
house
,
that
she
was
broken
-
hearted
because
of
his
ill
-
usage
?
Never
!
”
“
What
I
know
is
that
she
didn
’
t
blame
you
at
all
.
She
blamed
herself
for
what
had
happened
,
and
only
herself
.
I
had
it
from
her
own
lips
.
”
“
You
had
it
from
her
lips
that
I
had
NOT
ill
-
treated
her
;
and
at
the
same
time
another
had
it
from
her
lips
that
I
HAD
ill
-
treated
her
?
My
mother
was
no
impulsive
woman
who
changed
her
opinion
every
hour
without
reason
.
How
can
it
be
,
Venn
,
that
she
should
have
told
such
different
stories
in
close
succession
?
”
“
I
cannot
say
.
It
is
certainly
odd
,
when
she
had
forgiven
you
,
and
had
forgiven
your
wife
,
and
was
going
to
see
ye
on
purpose
to
make
friends
.
”
“
If
there
was
one
thing
wanting
to
bewilder
me
it
was
this
incomprehensible
thing
!
.
.
.
Diggory
,
if
we
,
who
remain
alive
,
were
only
allowed
to
hold
conversation
with
the
dead
—
just
once
,
a
bare
minute
,
even
through
a
screen
of
iron
bars
,
as
with
persons
in
prison
—
what
we
might
learn
!
How
many
who
now
ride
smiling
would
hide
their
heads
!
And
this
mystery
—
I
should
then
be
at
the
bottom
of
it
at
once
.
But
the
grave
has
forever
shut
her
in
;
and
how
shall
it
be
found
out
now
?
”
No
reply
was
returned
by
his
companion
,
since
none
could
be
given
;
and
when
Venn
left
,
a
few
minutes
later
,
Clym
had
passed
from
the
dullness
of
sorrow
to
the
fluctuation
of
carking
incertitude
.
He
continued
in
the
same
state
all
the
afternoon
.
A
bed
was
made
up
for
him
in
the
same
house
by
a
neighbour
,
that
he
might
not
have
to
return
again
the
next
day
;
and
when
he
retired
to
rest
in
the
deserted
place
it
was
only
to
remain
awake
hour
after
hour
thinking
the
same
thoughts
.
How
to
discover
a
solution
to
this
riddle
of
death
seemed
a
query
of
more
importance
than
highest
problems
of
the
living
.
There
was
housed
in
his
memory
a
vivid
picture
of
the
face
of
a
little
boy
as
he
entered
the
hovel
where
Clym
’
s
mother
lay
.
The
round
eyes
,
eager
gaze
,
the
piping
voice
which
enunciated
the
words
,
had
operated
like
stilettos
on
his
brain
.
A
visit
to
the
boy
suggested
itself
as
a
means
of
gleaning
new
particulars
;
though
it
might
be
quite
unproductive
.
To
probe
a
child
’
s
mind
after
the
lapse
of
six
weeks
,
not
for
facts
which
the
child
had
seen
and
understood
,
but
to
get
at
those
which
were
in
their
nature
beyond
him
,
did
not
promise
much
;
yet
when
every
obvious
channel
is
blocked
we
grope
towards
the
small
and
obscure
.
There
was
nothing
else
left
to
do
;
after
that
he
would
allow
the
enigma
to
drop
into
the
abyss
of
undiscoverable
things
.
