Межзвёздный скиталец

Chapter 11

           

           “SosaidtheyinoldRome,Pons,whenNeromadetorchesofthemtolighthissports.”

           Ponsregardedmepityingly.

           “Toomuchlearningisasickness,”hecomplained.“Iwasalwaysopposedtoit.Butyoumusthaveyourwillanddragmyoldbodyaboutwithyou—a-studyingastronomyandnumbersinVenice,poetryandalltheItalianfol-de-rolsinFlorence,andastrologyinPisa,andGodknowswhatinthatmadmancountryofGermany.Pishforthephilosophers!Itellyou,master,I,Pons,yourservant,apooroldmanwhoknowsnotaletterfromapike-staff—ItellyouGodlives,andthetimeyoushallappearbeforehimisshort.”Hepausedwithsuddenrecollection,andadded:“Heishere,thepriestyouspokeof.”

           OntheinstantIrememberedmyengagement.

           “Whydidyounottellmebefore?”Idemandedangrily.

           “Whatdiditmatter?”Ponsshruggedhisshoulders.“Hashenotbeenwaitingtwohoursasitis?”

           “Whydidn’tyoucallme?”

           Heregardedmewithathoughtful,censoriouseye.

           “Andyourollingtobedandshoutinglikechanticleer,‘Singcucu,singcucu,cucununucucu,singcucu,singcucu,singcucu,singcucu.

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