Вітер у вербах

           Theywerestrollingalongthehigh-roadeasily,theMolebythehorse’shead,talkingtohim,sincethehorsehadcomplainedthathewasbeingfrightfullyleftoutofit,andnobodyconsideredhimintheleast;theToadandtheWaterRatwalkingbehindthecarttalkingtogether—atleastToadwastalking,andRatwassayingatintervals,"Yes,precisely;andwhatdidyousaytohim?"—andthinkingallthetimeofsomethingverydifferent,whenfarbehindthemtheyheardafaintwarninghum,likethedroneofadistantbee.Glancingback,theysawasmallcloudofdust,withadarkcentreofenergy,advancingonthematincrediblespeed,whilefromoutthedustafaint"Poop-poop!"wailedlikeanuneasyanimalinpain.Hardlyregardingit,theyturnedtoresumetheirconversation,wheninaninstant(asitseemed)thepeacefulscenewaschanged,andwithablastofwindandawhirlofsoundthatmadethemjumpforthenearestditch.Itwasonthem!The"Poop-poop"rangwithabrazenshoutintheirears,theyhadamoment’sglimpseofaninteriorofglitteringplate-glassandrichmorocco,andthemagnificentmotor-car,immense,breath-snatching,passionate,withitspilottenseandhugginghiswheel,possessedallearthandairforthefractionofasecond,flunganenvelopingcloudofdustthatblindedandenwrappedthemutterly,andthendwindledtoaspeckinthefardistance,changedbackintoadroningbeeoncemore.