-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Томас Рид
-
- Всадник без головы
-
- Стр. 152/662
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Again
there
was
a
period
of
tranquillity
similar
to
the
former
,
but
more
prolonged
.
It
ended
by
another
exchange
of
shots
,
almost
instantly
succeeded
by
the
falling
of
two
heavy
bodies
upon
the
floor
.
There
was
the
sound
of
sprawling
--
the
overturning
of
chairs
--
then
a
single
shot
--
the
eleventh
--
and
this
was
the
last
that
was
fired
!
The
spectators
outside
saw
only
a
cloud
of
sulphurous
smoke
oozing
out
of
both
doors
,
and
dimming
the
light
of
the
camphine
lamps
.
This
,
with
an
occasional
flash
of
brighter
effulgence
,
close
followed
by
a
crack
,
was
all
that
occurred
to
give
satisfaction
to
the
eye
.
But
the
ear
--
that
was
gratified
by
a
greater
variety
.
There
were
heard
shots
--
after
the
bell
had
become
silent
,
other
sounds
:
the
sharp
shivering
of
broken
glass
,
the
duller
crash
of
falling
furniture
,
rudely
overturned
in
earnest
struggle
--
the
trampling
of
feet
upon
the
boarded
floor
--
at
intervals
the
clear
ringing
crack
of
the
revolvers
;
but
neither
of
the
voices
of
the
men
whose
insensate
passions
were
the
cause
of
all
this
commotion
!
The
crowd
in
the
street
heard
the
confused
noises
,
and
noted
the
intervals
of
silence
,
without
being
exactly
able
to
interpret
them
.
The
reports
of
the
pistols
were
all
they
had
to
proclaim
the
progress
of
the
duel
.
Eleven
had
been
counted
;
and
in
breathless
silence
they
were
listening
for
the
twelfth
.
Instead
of
a
pistol
report
their
ears
were
gratified
by
the
sound
of
a
voice
,
recognised
as
that
of
the
mustanger
.
"
My
pistol
is
at
your
head
!
I
have
one
shot
left
--
an
apology
,
or
you
die
!
"
By
this
the
crowd
had
become
convinced
that
the
fight
was
approaching
its
termination
.
Some
of
the
more
fearless
,
looking
in
,
beheld
a
strange
scene
.
They
saw
two
men
lying
prostrate
on
the
plank
floor
;
both
with
bloodstained
habiliments
,
both
evidently
disabled
;
the
white
sand
around
them
reddened
with
their
gore
,
tracked
with
tortuous
trails
,
where
they
had
crawled
closer
to
get
a
last
shot
at
each
other
--
one
of
them
,
in
scarlet
scarf
and
slashed
velvet
trousers
,
slightly
surmounting
the
other
,
and
holding
a
pistol
to
his
head
that
threatened
to
deprive
him
of
life
Such
was
the
tableau
that
presented
itself
to
the
spectators
,
as
the
sulphurous
smoke
,
drifted
out
by
the
current
between
the
two
doors
,
gave
them
a
chance
of
distinguishing
objects
within
the
saloon
.
