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- Уильям Сомерсет Моэм
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- Луна и грош
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- Стр. 187/193
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Dr
.
Coutras
shrugged
his
shoulders
and
smiled
.
"
You
will
laugh
at
me
.
I
am
a
materialist
,
and
I
am
a
gross
,
fat
man
—
Falstaff
,
eh
?
—
the
lyrical
mode
does
not
become
me
.
I
make
myself
ridiculous
.
But
I
have
never
seen
painting
which
made
so
deep
an
impression
upon
me
.
Tenez
,
I
had
just
the
same
feeling
as
when
I
went
to
the
Sistine
Chapel
in
Rome
.
There
too
I
was
awed
by
the
greatness
of
the
man
who
had
painted
that
ceiling
.
It
was
genius
,
and
it
was
stupendous
and
overwhelming
.
I
felt
small
and
insignificant
.
But
you
are
prepared
for
the
greatness
of
Michael
Angelo
.
Nothing
had
prepared
me
for
the
immense
surprise
of
these
pictures
in
a
native
hut
,
far
away
from
civilisation
,
in
a
fold
of
the
mountain
above
Taravao
.
And
Michael
Angelo
is
sane
and
healthy
.
Those
great
works
of
his
have
the
calm
of
the
sublime
;
but
here
,
notwithstanding
beauty
,
was
something
troubling
.
I
do
not
know
what
it
was
.
It
made
me
uneasy
.
It
gave
me
the
impression
you
get
when
you
are
sitting
next
door
to
a
room
that
you
know
is
empty
,
but
in
which
,
you
know
not
why
,
you
have
a
dreadful
consciousness
that
notwithstanding
there
is
someone
.
You
scold
yourself
;
you
know
it
is
only
your
nerves
—
and
yet
,
and
yet
.
.
.
In
a
little
while
it
is
impossible
to
resist
the
terror
that
seizes
you
,
and
you
are
helpless
in
the
clutch
of
an
unseen
horror
.
Yes
;
I
confess
I
was
not
altogether
sorry
when
I
heard
that
those
strange
masterpieces
had
been
destroyed
.
"
"
Destroyed
?
"
I
cried
.
"
Mais
oui
;
did
you
not
know
?
"
"
How
should
I
know
?
It
is
true
I
had
never
heard
of
this
work
;
but
I
thought
perhaps
it
had
fallen
into
the
hands
of
a
private
owner
.
Even
now
there
is
no
certain
list
of
Strickland
’
s
paintings
.
"
"
When
he
grew
blind
he
would
sit
hour
after
hour
in
those
two
rooms
that
he
had
painted
,
looking
at
his
works
with
sightless
eyes
,
and
seeing
,
perhaps
,
more
than
he
had
ever
seen
in
his
life
before
.
Ata
told
me
that
he
never
complained
of
his
fate
,
he
never
lost
courage
.
To
the
end
his
mind
remained
serene
and
undisturbed
.
But
he
made
her
promise
that
when
she
had
buried
him
—
did
I
tell
you
that
I
dug
his
grave
with
my
own
hands
,
for
none
of
the
natives
would
approach
the
infected
house
,
and
we
buried
him
,
she
and
I
,
sewn
up
in
three
pareos
joined
together
,
under
the
mango
-
tree
—
he
made
her
promise
that
she
would
set
fire
to
the
house
and
not
leave
it
till
it
was
burned
to
the
ground
and
not
a
stick
remained
.
"
I
did
not
speak
for
a
while
,
for
I
was
thinking
.
Then
I
said
:
"
He
remained
the
same
to
the
end
,
then
.
"
