"Michael Ende - The Neverending Story" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ende Michael)

Reprinted in this edition 1984
Published in the United States of America in Penguin Books 1984

17 19 21 23 22 20 18 16

Copyright © K. Thienemanns Verlag, Stuttgart, 1979
Translation copyright © Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1983
All rights reserved
 Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 84-60935

ISBN 0 14 00.7431 7

Printed in the United States of America
Set in Baskerville

Except in the United States of America,
this book is sold subject to the condition
that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise,
be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated
without the publisher's prior consent in any form of
binding or cover other than that in which it is
published and without a similar condition
including this condition being imposed
on the subsequent purchaser.




This inscription could be seen on the glass door of a small shop, but naturally this was only
the way it looked if you were inside the dimly lit shop, looking out at the street through the
plate-glass door.
Outside, it was a gray, cold, rainy November morning. The rain ran down the glass and
over the ornate lters. Through the glass there was nothing to be seen but the rain-splotched wall
across the street.
Suddenly the door was opened so violently that a little cluster of brass bells tinkled wildly,
taking quite some time to calm down. The cause of this hubbub was a fat little boy of ten or
twelve. His wet, dark-brown hair hung down over his face, his coat was soaked and dripping, and
he was carrying a school satchel slung over his shoulder. He was rather pale and out of breath,
but, despite the hurry he had been in a moment before, he was standing in the open doorway as
though rooted to the spot.
Before him lay a long, narrow room, the back of which was lost in the half-light. The walls
were lined with shelves filled with books of all shapes and sizes. Large folios were piled high on
the floor, and on several tables lay heaps of smaller, leather-bound books, whose spines glittered
with gold. The far end of the room was blocked off by a shoulder-high wall of books, behind
which the light of a lamp could be seen. From time to time a ring of smoke rose up in the
lamplight, expanded, and vanished in darkness. One was reminded of the smoke signals that
Indians used for sending news from hilltop to hilltop. Apparently someone was sitting there, and,
sure enough, the little boy heard a cross voice from behind the wall of books: "Do your wondering
inside or outside, but shut the door. There's a draft."
The boy obeyed and quietly shut the door. Then he approached the wall of books and