Тень над Иннсмутом
Chapter 3
Pooroldsoul—towhatpitifuldepthsofhallucinationhadhisliquor,plushishatredofthedecay,alienage,anddiseasearoundhim,broughtthatfertile,imaginativebrain?Hebegantomoannow,andtearswerecoursingdownhischannelledchecksintothedepthsofhisbeard.
"God,whatIseensenctIwasfifteenyear’old—Mene,mene,tekel,upharsin!—thefolksaswasmissin’,andthemaskilttheirselves—themastoldthingsinArkhamorIpswichorsechplaceswasallcalledcrazy,likeyou’recallin’merightnaow—butGod,whatIseen—They’dakiltmelongagofer’whatIknow,onlyI’dtookthefustan’secon’Oathso’DagooffenObed,sowaspertectedunlessenajuryof’emprovedItoldthingsknowin’an’delib’rit...butIwudn’ttakethethirdOath—I’dadiedruther’ntakethat—
"ItgotwussaraoundCivilWartime,whenchildrenbornsenct‘forty-sixbeguntogrowup—some’em,thatis.Iwasafeared—neverdidnopryin’arterthatawfulnight,an’neverseeoneo’—them—closttoinallmylife.Thatis,nevernofull-bloodedone.Iwenttothewar,an’efI’dahadanygutsorsenseI’danevercomeback,butsettledawayfromhere.Butfolkswrotemethingswa’n’tsobad.That,Is’pose,wasbecausegov’muntdraftmenwasintaownarter‘sixty-three.Arterthewaritwasjestasbadagin.Peoplebeguntofalloff—millsan’shopsshetdaown—shippin’stoppedan’theharbourchokedup—railrudgiveup—butthey...
