Машина часу
Chapter 8
AndIlongedverymuchtokillaMorlockorso. Veryinhuman,youmaythink,towanttogokillingone’sowndescendants! Butitwasimpossible,somehow,tofeelanyhumanityinthethings. OnlymydisinclinationtoleaveWeena,andapersuasionthatifIbegantoslakemythirstformurdermyTimeMachinemightsuffer,restrainedmefromgoingstraightdownthegalleryandkillingthebrutesIheard.
‘Well,maceinonehandandWeenaintheother,Iwentoutofthatgalleryandintoanotherandstilllargerone,whichatthefirstglanceremindedmeofamilitarychapelhungwithtatteredflags. Thebrownandcharredragsthathungfromthesidesofit,Ipresentlyrecognizedasthedecayingvestigesofbooks. Theyhadlongsincedroppedtopieces,andeverysemblanceofprinthadleftthem. Buthereandtherewerewarpedboardsandcrackedmetallicclaspsthattoldthetalewellenough. HadIbeenaliterarymanImight,perhaps,havemoralizeduponthefutilityofallambition. Butasitwas,thethingthatstruckmewithkeenestforcewastheenormouswasteoflabourtowhichthissombrewildernessofrottingpapertestified. AtthetimeIwillconfessthatIthoughtchieflyofthePhilosophicalTransactionsandmyownseventeenpapersuponphysicaloptics.
‘Then,goingupabroadstaircase,wecametowhatmayoncehavebeenagalleryoftechnicalchemistry. AndhereIhadnotalittlehopeofusefuldiscoveries. Exceptatoneendwheretheroofhadcollapsed,thisgallerywaswellpreserved. Iwenteagerlytoeveryunbrokencase.Andatlast,inoneofthereallyair-tightcases,Ifoundaboxofmatches. VeryeagerlyItriedthem. Theywereperfectlygood. Theywerenotevendamp. IturnedtoWeena. "Dance,"Icriedtoherinherowntongue.
