Потерянный континент: история Атлантиды
7. The Biters Of The Walls (Further Account)
ThebanquethadendedabruptlywiththeterriblescenethatIhavesetdownaboveonthesetablets,forwithTarcawrithingonthefloor,andthrustingoutthegruesomescarsofhisleprosy,eventhemostgluttonoushadlittleenoughappetiteforfurthergorging.Phorenicegloweredonthefeastersforawhilelongerinsilentfury,butsayingnofurtherword;andthenhereyesturnedonme,thoughsoftenedsomewhat.
“Youmaybeanhonestman,Deucalion,”shesaid,atlength,“butyouareamonstrouscoldone.Iwonderwhenyouwillthaw?”Andhereshesmiled.“Ithinkitwillbesoon.ButfornowIbidyoufarewell.Inthemorningwewilltakethiscountrybytheshoulders,andseeitinsomeneworder.”
Sheleftthebanqueting-hallthen,Ylgafollowing;andtakingprecedenceofmyrank,Iwentoutnext,whilstallothersstoodandmadesalutation.ButIhaltedbyTarcafirst,andputmyhandonhisuncleanflesh.“Youareanunfortunateman,”Isaid,“butIcanadmireabravesoldier.Ifreliefcanbegainedforyourplague,Iwilluseinteresttoprocureitforyou.”
Theman’sthankscameinamumblefromhiswreckedmouth,andsomeofthosenearshudderedinaffecteddisgust.Iturnedonthemwithablackbrow:“Yourcharity,mylords,seemsofassmallaccountasyourcourage.YouaffectedafinedisbeliefofZaemon’ssayings,andasimperingcontemptforhispriesthood,butwhenitcomestolayingahandonhim,youshowadiscretionwhich,intheolddays,weshouldhavecalledbyanuglyname.IhadratherbeTarca,withallhisuncleanness,thananyofyounowasyoustand.
