Остров доктора Моро
The Hunting of the Man.
Iscrambledoutatlastonthewestwardbank,andwithmyheartbeatingloudlyinmyears,creptintoatangleoffernstoawaittheissue.Iheardthedog(therewasonlyone)drawnearer,andyelpwhenitcametothethorns.ThenIheardnomore,andpresentlybegantothinkIhadescaped.
Theminutespassed;thesilencelengthenedout,andatlastafteranhourofsecuritymycouragebegantoreturntome.BythistimeIwasnolongerverymuchterrifiedorverymiserable.Ihad,asitwere,passedthelimitofterroranddespair.Ifeltnowthatmylifewaspracticallylost,andthatpersuasionmademecapableofdaringanything.IhadevenacertainwishtoencounterMoreaufacetoface;andasIhadwadedintothewater,IrememberedthatifIweretoohardpressedatleastonepathofescapefromtormentstilllayopentome,—theycouldnotverywellpreventmydrowningmyself.Ihadhalfamindtodrownmyselfthen;butanoddwishtoseethewholeadventureout,aqueer,impersonal,spectacularinterestinmyself,restrainedme.Istretchedmylimbs,soreandpainfulfromthepricksofthespinyplants,andstaredaroundmeatthetrees;and,sosuddenlythatitseemedtojumpoutofthegreentraceryaboutit,myeyeslituponablackfacewatchingme.Isawthatitwasthesimiancreaturewhohadmetthelaunchuponthebeach.Hewasclingingtotheobliquestemofapalm-tree.Igrippedmystick,andstoodupfacinghim.Hebeganchattering."You,you,you,"wasallIcoulddistinguishatfirst.
