"Smith, Clark Ashton - Tales of Averoigne" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Clark Ashton)

lived for a long time, as I had, within the walls of a city, with towered
buildings in lieu of trees and cobbled pavements where grass should be.
But, charming as it was, the foreground held my gaze only for a few
moments; then, beyond the tops of the trees, I saw a hill, not more than
a mile distant, on whose summit there stood the ruins of some old
chateau, the crumbling, brokendown condition of whose walls and
towers was plainly visible. It drew my gaze irresistibly, with an
overpowering sense of romantic attraction, which somehow seemed so
natural, so inevitable, that I did not pause to analyze or wonder; and
once having seen it, I could not take my eyes away, but lingering at the
window for how long I knew not, scrutinizing as closely as I could the
details of each timeshaken turret and bastion. Some undefinable
fascination was inherent in the very form, the extent, the disposition of
the pile Љ some fascination not dissimilar to that exerted by a strain of
music, by a magical combination of words in poetry, by the features of
a beloved face. Gazing, I lost myself in reveries that I could not recall
afterward, but which left behind them the same tantalizing sense of
innominable delight which forgotten nocturnal dreams may sometimes
leave.
I was recalled to the actualities of life by a gentle knock at my door,
and realized that I had forgotten to dress myself. It was the abbot, who
came to inquire how I had passed the night, and to tell me that
breakfast was ready whenever I should care to arise. For some reason, I
felt a little embarrassed, even shamefaced, to have been caught day-
dreaming; and though this was doubtless unnecessary, I apologized for. Ў
my dilatoriness. Hilaire, I thought, gave me a keen, inquiring look,
which was quickly withdrawn, as, with the suave courtesy of a good
host, he assured me that there was nothing whatever for which I need
apologize.
When I had breakfast, I told Hilaire, with many expressions of
gratitude for his hospitality, that it was time for me to resume my
journey. But his regret at the announcement of my departure was so
unfeigned, his invitation to tarry for at least another night was so
genuinely hearty, so sincerely urgent, that I consented to remain. In
truth, I required no great amount of solicitation, for, apart from the real
liking I had taken to Hilaire, the mystery of the forbidden manuscript
had entirely enslaved my imagination, and I was loth to leave without
having learned more concerning it. Also, for a youth with scholastic
leanings, the freedom of the abbot's library was a rare privilege, a
precious opportunity not to be passed over.
'I should like,' I said, 'to pursue certain studies while I am here, with
the aid of your incomparable collection.'
'My son, you are more than welcome to remain for any length of
time, and you can have access to my books whenever it suits your need
or inclination.' So saying, Hilaire detached the key of the library from
his girdle and gave it to me. 'There are duties,' he went on, 'which will
call me away from the monastery for a few hours today, and doubtless
you will desire to study in my absence.'
A little later, he excused himself and departed. With inward
felicitations on the longed-for opportunity that had fallen so readily into