Серце темряви
Chapter 3
Icouldseethecageofhisribsallastir,thebonesofhisarmwaving.Itwasasthoughananimatedimageofdeathcarvedoutofoldivoryhadbeenshakingitshandwithmenacesatamotionlesscrowdofmenmadeofdarkandglitteringbronze.Isawhimopenhismouthwide—itgavehimaweirdlyvoraciousaspect,asthoughhehadwantedtoswallowalltheair,alltheearth,allthemenbeforehim.Adeepvoicereachedmefaintly.Hemusthavebeenshouting.Hefellbacksuddenly.Thestretchershookasthebearersstaggeredforwardagain,andalmostatthesametimeInoticedthatthecrowdofsavageswasvanishingwithoutanyperceptiblemovementofretreat,asiftheforestthathadejectedthesebeingssosuddenlyhaddrawntheminagainasthebreathisdrawninalongaspiration.
"Someofthepilgrimsbehindthestretchercarriedhisarms—twoshot-guns,aheavyrifle,andalightrevolver-carbine—thethunderboltsofthatpitifulJupiter.Themanagerbentoverhimmurmuringashewalkedbesidehishead.Theylaidhimdowninoneofthelittlecabins—justaroomforabedplaceandacamp-stoolortwo,youknow.Wehadbroughthisbelatedcorrespondence,andalotoftornenvelopesandopenletterslitteredhisbed.Hishandroamedfeeblyamongstthesepapers.Iwasstruckbythefireofhiseyesandthecomposedlanguorofhisexpression.Itwasnotsomuchtheexhaustionofdisease.Hedidnotseeminpain.Thisshadowlookedsatiatedandcalm,asthoughforthemomentithadhaditsfillofalltheemotions.
