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- Уильям Сомерсет Моэм
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- Стр. 176/193
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"
And
what
was
that
?
"
He
stopped
,
somewhat
dramatically
,
and
stretched
out
his
arm
.
"
Belief
in
God
.
Without
that
we
should
have
been
lost
.
"
Then
we
arrived
at
the
house
of
Dr
.
Coutras
.
Mr
.
Coutras
was
an
old
Frenchman
of
great
stature
and
exceeding
bulk
.
His
body
was
shaped
like
a
huge
duck
’
s
egg
;
and
his
eyes
,
sharp
,
blue
,
and
good
-
natured
,
rested
now
and
then
with
self
-
satisfaction
on
his
enormous
paunch
.
His
complexion
was
florid
and
his
hair
white
.
He
was
a
man
to
attract
immediate
sympathy
.
He
received
us
in
a
room
that
might
have
been
in
a
house
in
a
provincial
town
in
France
,
and
the
one
or
two
Polynesian
curios
had
an
odd
look
.
He
took
my
hand
in
both
of
his
—
they
were
huge
—
and
gave
me
a
hearty
look
,
in
which
,
however
,
was
great
shrewdness
.
When
he
shook
hands
with
Capitaine
Brunot
he
enquired
politely
after
Madame
et
les
enfants
.
For
some
minutes
there
was
an
exchange
of
courtesies
and
some
local
gossip
about
the
island
,
the
prospects
of
copra
and
the
vanilla
crop
;
then
we
came
to
the
object
of
my
visit
.
I
shall
not
tell
what
Dr
.
Coutras
related
to
me
in
his
words
,
but
in
my
own
,
for
I
cannot
hope
to
give
at
second
hand
any
impression
of
his
vivacious
delivery
.
He
had
a
deep
,
resonant
voice
,
fitted
to
his
massive
frame
,
and
a
keen
sense
of
the
dramatic
.
To
listen
to
him
was
,
as
the
phrase
goes
,
as
good
as
a
play
;
and
much
better
than
most
.
It
appears
that
Dr
.
Coutras
had
gone
one
day
to
Taravao
in
order
to
see
an
old
chiefess
who
was
ill
,
and
he
gave
a
vivid
picture
of
the
obese
old
lady
,
lying
in
a
huge
bed
,
smoking
cigarettes
,
and
surrounded
by
a
crowd
of
dark
-
skinned
retainers
.
When
he
had
seen
her
he
was
taken
into
another
room
and
given
dinner
—
raw
fish
,
fried
bananas
,
and
chicken
—
que
sais
-
je
,
the
typical
dinner
of
the
indigene
—
and
while
he
was
eating
it
he
saw
a
young
girl
being
driven
away
from
the
door
in
tears
.
He
thought
nothing
of
it
,
but
when
he
went
out
to
get
into
his
trap
and
drive
home
,
he
saw
her
again
,
standing
a
little
way
off
;
she
looked
at
him
with
a
woebegone
air
,
and
tears
streamed
down
her
cheeks
.
He
asked
someone
what
was
wrong
with
her
,
and
was
told
that
she
had
come
down
from
the
hills
to
ask
him
to
visit
a
white
man
who
was
sick
.
They
had
told
her
that
the
doctor
could
not
be
disturbed
.
He
called
her
,
and
himself
asked
what
she
wanted
.
She
told
him
that
Ata
had
sent
her
,
she
who
used
to
be
at
the
Hotel
de
la
Fleur
,
and
that
the
Red
One
was
ill
.
She
thrust
into
his
hand
a
crumpled
piece
of
newspaper
,
and
when
he
opened
it
he
found
in
it
a
hundred
-
franc
note
.
"
Who
is
the
Red
One
?
"
he
asked
of
one
of
the
bystanders
.
He
was
told
that
that
was
what
they
called
the
Englishman
,
a
painter
,
who
lived
with
Ata
up
in
the
valley
seven
kilometres
from
where
they
were
.
He
recognised
Strickland
by
the
description
.
But
it
was
necessary
to
walk
.
It
was
impossible
for
him
to
go
;
that
was
why
they
had
sent
the
girl
away
.
