Маленький лорд Фаунтлерой
Chapter V
Itwasaverylargeandsplendidroom,withmassivecarvenfurnitureinit,andshelvesuponshelvesofbooks;thefurniturewassodark,andthedraperiessoheavy,thediamond-panedwindowsweresodeep,anditseemedsuchadistancefromoneendofittotheother,that,sincethesunhadgonedown,theeffectofitallwasrathergloomy.ForamomentCedricthoughttherewasnobodyintheroom,butsoonhesawthatbythefireburningonthewidehearththerewasalargeeasy-chairandthatinthatchairsomeonewassitting—someonewhodidnotatfirstturntolookathim.
Buthehadattractedattentioninonequarteratleast.Onthefloor,bythearm-chair,layadog,ahugetawnymastiff,withbodyandlimbsalmostasbigasalion’s;andthisgreatcreaturerosemajesticallyandslowly,andmarchedtowardthelittlefellowwithaheavystep.
Thenthepersoninthechairspoke.“Dougal,”hecalled,“comeback,sir.”
ButtherewasnomorefearinlittleLordFauntleroy’sheartthantherewasunkindness—hehadbeenabravelittlefellowallhislife.Heputhishandonthebigdog’scollarinthemostnaturalwayintheworld,andtheystrayedforwardtogether,Dougalsniffingashewent.
AndthentheEarllookedup.WhatCedricsawwasalargeoldmanwithshaggywhitehairandeyebrows,andanoselikeaneagle’sbeakbetweenhisdeep,fierceeyes.WhattheEarlsawwasagraceful,childishfigureinablackvelvetsuit,withalacecollar,andwithlove-lockswavingaboutthehandsome,manlylittleface,whoseeyesmethiswithalookofinnocentgood-fellowship.
