"A Journey South - a novelette by John Christopher" - читать интересную книгу автора (Christopher John)

Time with a gift of tears,
Grief with a glass that ran.
Pleasure with pain for leaven,
Summer with flowers that fell..."
She listened with closed eyes. Perhaps the words did work magic for her,
some kind of hope or healing.
"To every thing there is a season,
and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die."
There was no magic for Starmer. He thought of another scrap of old verse,
and wanted to shout it:
"Do not go gentle... rage, rage against the dying of the light..."
But that was not in the ritual. The last duty of a Counsellor was the
bringing of peace, acceptance, resignation. He forced himself to keep
silence. This had to be endured because she had required it. Soon it would
be over, and they would be together again, and alone, if only for a brief
time. And every second of that time was worth a day, a year, of the
stunted life that waited for him, so near and so unwanted.
Then in mid passage Martin checked. Starmer saw her gaze was fixed.
"Rest in peace, sister," Martin said.
"Don't be a fool!" Starmer said. "She's not dead."
Martin made the farewell gesture. He said gently:
"She's dead, Michael."
He saw it was true. He had always prided himself on a stoical acceptance
of realities, and knew he must accept this too. The overwhelming
bitterness lay in being cheated of that little time together, those
minutes he had counted on. He said:
"At the end.. .she was looking at you, not me."
"Close her eyes," Martin said.
Her flesh was warm to his fingers. When he had done it he looked down at
her in silence. Martin said:
"Go to bed. A pill -- two. Three maybe. Leave everything to me."
"No." With an effort, he looked at the Counsellor. "You can go now."
"It's finished," Martin said. "There's a body there, that's all. There are
necessary things to do, and I'm accustomed to them."
"I'll see to it. Everything."
"It's not usual. Or wise."
"Leave us."
Martin shrugged. "If you wish. I'll return in the morning."
"No. I don't want you. Or anyone."
"Your neighbours will want to come."
"No-one. Tell them no-one."
"Her friends have a right to mourn her."
"I'm not stopping them."
"In company; with you. Grief needs expression, and is best shared. That
has always been understood. And there's a grave to be dug."
"I'll dig it."
"It is the custom..."
"Customs are not laws. Are they?"
"No. But you need help."