Принц и нищий
The Prince with the Tramps
Buttostaywherehewas,andendurethislivingdeathallnight—wasthatbetter?No.What,then,wastherelefttodo?Ah,therewasbutonecourse;heknewitwell—hemustputouthishandandfindthatthing!
Itwaseasytothinkthis;butitwashardtobracehimselfuptotryit.Threetimeshestretchedhishandalittlewayoutintothedark,gingerly;andsnatcheditsuddenlyback,withagasp—notbecauseithadencounteredanything,butbecausehehadfeltsosureitwasjustgoingto.Butthefourthtime,hegropedalittlefurther,andhishandlightlysweptagainstsomethingsoftandwarm.Thispetrifiedhim,nearly,withfright;hismindwasinsuchastatethathecouldimaginethethingtobenothingelsethanacorpse,newlydeadandstillwarm.Hethoughthewouldratherdiethantouchitagain.Buthethoughtthisfalsethoughtbecausehedidnotknowtheimmortalstrengthofhumancuriosity.Innolongtimehishandwastremblinglygropingagain—againsthisjudgment,andwithouthisconsent—butgropingpersistentlyon,justthesame.Itencounteredabunchoflonghair;heshuddered,butfollowedupthehairandfoundwhatseemedtobeawarmrope;followeduptheropeandfoundaninnocentcalf!—fortheropewasnotaropeatall,butthecalf’stail.
