Загублений світ
A Procession! A Procession!
Thefaceofthecreaturewaslikethewildestgargoylethattheimaginationofamadmedievalbuildercouldhaveconceived.Itwasmalicious,horrible,withtwosmallredeyesasbrightaspointsofburningcoal.Itslong,savagemouth,whichwasheldhalf-open,wasfullofadoublerowofshark-liketeeth.Itsshoulderswerehumped,androundthemweredrapedwhatappearedtobeafadedgrayshawl.Itwasthedevilofourchildhoodinperson.Therewasaturmoilintheaudience—someonescreamed,twoladiesinthefrontrowfellsenselessfromtheirchairs,andtherewasageneralmovementupontheplatformtofollowtheirchairmanintotheorchestra.Foramomenttherewasdangerofageneralpanic.ProfessorChallengerthrewuphishandstostillthecommotion,butthemovementalarmedthecreaturebesidehim.Itsstrangeshawlsuddenlyunfurled,spread,andflutteredasapairofleatherywings.Itsownergrabbedatitslegs,buttoolatetoholdit.IthadsprungfromtheperchandwascirclingslowlyroundtheQueen’sHallwithadry,leatheryflappingofitsten-footwings,whileaputridandinsidiousodorpervadedtheroom.Thecriesofthepeopleinthegalleries,whowerealarmedatthenearapproachofthoseglowingeyesandthatmurderousbeak,excitedthecreaturetoafrenzy.Fasterandfasteritflew,beatingagainstwallsandchandeliersinablindfrenzyofalarm.
