-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Томас Рид
-
- Всадник без головы
-
- Стр. 386/662
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
At
sight
of
the
new-comer
her
countenance
underwent
a
change
.
There
was
now
perceptible
upon
it
a
shade
of
apprehension
;
and
the
little
pistol
was
clutched
with
renewed
nerve
by
the
delicate
hand
that
still
continued
to
hold
it
.
The
act
was
partly
precautionary
,
partly
mechanical
.
Nor
was
it
unnatural
,
in
view
of
the
formidable-looking
personage
who
was
approaching
,
and
the
earnest
excited
manner
with
which
he
was
hurrying
forward
to
the
hut
.
All
this
became
altered
,
as
he
advanced
into
the
open
ground
,
and
suddenly
stopped
on
its
edge
;
a
look
of
surprise
quite
as
great
as
that
upon
the
countenance
of
the
lady
,
supplanting
his
earnest
glances
.
Some
exclamatory
phrases
were
sent
through
his
teeth
,
unintelligible
in
the
tumult
still
continuing
,
though
the
gesture
that
accompanied
them
seemed
to
proclaim
them
of
a
character
anything
but
gentle
.
On
giving
utterance
to
them
,
he
turned
to
one
side
;
strode
rapidly
towards
the
screaming
mare
;
and
,
laying
hold
of
her
tail
--
which
no
living
man
save
himself
would
have
dared
to
do
--
he
released
her
from
the
torments
she
had
been
so
long
enduring
.
Silence
was
instantly
restored
;
since
the
mare
,
abandoned
by
her
fellow
choristers
,
as
they
became
accustomed
to
her
wild
neighs
,
had
been
,
for
some
time
,
keeping
up
the
solo
by
herself
.
The
lady
was
not
yet
enlightened
.
Her
astonishment
continued
;
though
a
side
glance
given
to
the
droll
individual
in
the
doorway
told
her
,
that
he
had
successfully
accomplished
some
scheme
with
which
he
had
been
entrusted
.
Phelim
's
look
of
satisfaction
was
of
short
continuance
.
It
vanished
,
as
Zeb
Stump
,
having
effected
the
deliverance
of
the
tortured
quadruped
,
faced
round
to
the
hut
--
as
he
did
so
,
showing
a
cloud
upon
the
corrugations
of
his
countenance
,
darkly
ominous
of
an
angry
storm
.
Even
the
presence
of
beauty
did
not
hinder
it
from
bursting
.
"
Durn
,
an
dog-gone
ye
,
for
a
Irish
eedyit
!
Air
this
what
ye
've
brought
me
back
for
!
An
'
jest
as
I
wur
takin
'
sight
on
a
turkey
,
not
less
'n
thirty
poun
'
weight
,
I
reck
'n
;
skeeart
afore
he
ked
touch
trigger
,
wi
'
the
skreek
o
'
thet
cussed
critter
o
'
a
maar
.
Damned
little
chance
for
breakfust
now
.
"
"
But
,
Misther
Stump
,
did
n't
yez
till
me
to
do
it
?
Ye
sid
if
any
wan
showld
come
to
the
cyabin
--
"
