-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Вирджиния Вульф
-
- Волны
-
- Стр. 8/81
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
'
They
flick
their
tails
right
and
left
as
I
speak
them
,
'
said
Bernard
.
'
They
wag
their
tails
;
they
flick
their
tails
;
they
move
through
the
air
in
flocks
,
now
this
way
,
now
that
way
,
moving
all
together
,
now
dividing
,
now
coming
together
.
'
'
Those
are
yellow
words
,
those
are
fiery
words
,
'
said
Jinny
.
'
I
should
like
a
fiery
dress
,
a
yellow
dress
,
a
fulvous
dress
to
wear
in
the
evening
.
'
'
Each
tense
,
'
said
Neville
,
'm
eans
differently
.
There
is
an
order
in
this
world
;
there
are
distinctions
,
there
are
differences
in
this
world
,
upon
whose
verge
I
step
.
For
this
is
only
a
beginning
.
'
'N
ow
Miss
Hudson
,
'
said
Rhoda
,
'
has
shut
the
book
.
Now
the
terror
is
beginning
.
Now
taking
her
lump
of
chalk
she
draws
figures
,
six
,
seven
,
eight
,
and
then
a
cross
and
then
a
line
on
the
blackboard
.
What
is
the
answer
?
The
others
look
;
they
look
with
understanding
.
Louis
writes
;
Susan
writes
;
Neville
writes
;
Jinny
writes
;
even
Bernard
has
now
begun
to
write
.
But
I
can
not
write
.
I
see
only
figures
.
The
others
are
handing
in
their
answers
,
one
by
one
.
Now
it
is
my
turn
.
But
I
have
no
answer
.
The
others
are
allowed
to
go
.
They
slam
the
door
.
Miss
Hudson
goes
.
I
am
left
alone
to
find
an
answer
.
The
figures
mean
nothing
now
.
Meaning
has
gone
.
The
clock
ticks
.
The
two
hands
are
convoys
marching
through
a
desert
.
The
black
bars
on
the
clock
face
are
green
oases
.
The
long
hand
has
marched
ahead
to
find
water
.
The
other
,
painfully
stumbles
among
hot
stones
in
the
desert
.
It
will
die
in
the
desert
.
The
kitchen
door
slams
.
Wild
dogs
bark
far
away
.
Look
,
the
loop
of
the
figure
is
beginning
to
fill
with
time
;
it
holds
the
world
in
it
.
I
begin
to
draw
a
figure
and
the
world
is
looped
in
it
,
and
I
myself
am
outside
the
loop
;
which
I
now
join
--
so
--
and
seal
up
,
and
make
entire
.
The
world
is
entire
,
and
I
am
outside
of
it
,
crying
,
"
Oh
save
me
,
from
being
blown
for
ever
outside
the
loop
of
time
!
"
'
'
There
Rhoda
sits
staring
at
the
blackboard
,
'
said
Louis
,
'
in
the
schoolroom
,
while
we
ramble
off
,
picking
here
a
bit
of
thyme
,
pinching
here
a
leaf
of
southernwood
while
Bernard
tells
a
story
.
Her
shoulder-blades
meet
across
her
back
like
the
wings
of
a
small
butterfly
.
And
as
she
stares
at
the
chalk
figures
,
her
mind
lodges
in
those
white
circles
,
it
steps
through
those
white
loops
into
emptiness
,
alone
.
They
have
no
meaning
for
her
.
She
has
no
answer
for
them
.
She
has
no
body
as
the
others
have
.
And
I
,
who
speak
with
an
Australian
accent
,
whose
father
is
a
banker
in
Brisbane
,
do
not
fear
her
as
I
fear
the
others
.
'
'
Let
us
now
crawl
,
'
said
Bernard
,
'
under
the
canopy
of
the
currant
leaves
,
and
tell
stories
.
Let
us
inhabit
the
underworld
.
Let
us
take
possession
of
our
secret
territory
,
which
is
lit
by
pendant
currants
like
candelabra
,
shining
red
on
one
side
,
black
on
the
other
.
Here
,
Jinny
,
if
we
curl
up
close
,
we
can
sit
under
the
canopy
of
the
currant
leaves
and
watch
the
censers
swing
.
This
is
our
universe
.
The
others
pass
down
the
carriage-drive
.
The
skirts
of
Miss
Hudson
and
Miss
Curry
sweep
by
like
candle
extinguishers
.
Those
are
Susan
's
white
socks
.
Those
are
Louis
'
neat
sand-shoes
firmly
printing
the
gravel
.
Here
come
warm
gusts
of
decomposing
leaves
,
of
rotting
vegetation
.
We
are
in
a
swamp
now
;
in
a
malarial
jungle
.
There
is
an
elephant
white
with
maggots
,
killed
by
an
arrow
shot
dead
in
its
eye
.
The
bright
eyes
of
hopping
birds
--
eagles
,
vultures
--
are
apparent
.
They
take
us
for
fallen
trees
.
They
pick
at
a
worm
--
that
is
a
hooded
cobra
--
and
leave
it
with
a
festering
brown
scar
to
be
mauled
by
lions
.
This
is
our
world
,
lit
with
crescents
and
stars
of
light
;
and
great
petals
half
transparent
block
the
openings
like
purple
windows
.
Everything
is
strange
.
Things
are
huge
and
very
small
.
The
stalks
of
flowers
are
thick
as
oak
trees
.
Leaves
are
high
as
the
domes
of
vast
cathedrals
.
We
are
giants
,
lying
here
,
who
can
make
forests
quiver
.
'
'
This
is
here
,
'
said
Jinny
,
'
this
is
now
.
But
soon
we
shall
go
.
Soon
Miss
Curry
will
blow
her
whistle
.
We
shall
walk
.
We
shall
part
.
You
will
go
to
school
.
You
will
have
masters
wearing
crosses
with
white
ties
.
I
shall
have
a
mistress
in
a
school
on
the
East
Coast
who
sits
under
a
portrait
of
Queen
Alexandra
.
That
is
where
I
am
going
,
and
Susan
and
Rhoda
.
This
is
only
here
;
this
is
only
now
.
Now
we
lie
under
the
currant
bushes
and
every
time
the
breeze
stirs
we
are
mottled
all
over
.
My
hand
is
like
a
snake
's
skin
.
My
knees
are
pink
floating
islands
.
Your
face
is
like
an
apple
tree
netted
under
.
'
