"Olaf Stapledon - Collected Stories" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stapledon Olaf)

turned deadly pale. "What's the matter?" she cried. "Are you going to die on me too?"

He pulled himself together and assured her that sheer sympathy for her had made him feel faint. He loved
her so much. How could he help being upset by her misfortune? To his relief Helen was completely taken
in by this explanation. She gave him, for the first time, the glowing smile he had formerly seen her turn
upon her brother.

Encouraged, he pressed home his advantage. He said, he did so want to comfort her. They must meet
again soon. And if she was at all interested in his experiments, he would show her something really
exciting some time. They arranged a trip in the country the following Sunday. He privately decided to
repeat for her benefit his trick with a passing car.

Sunday was a bright summer day. Sitting together in an empty railway carriage, they talked a good deal
about her brother. He was rather bored, but he expressed ardent sympathy. She said she never imagined
he had such a warm heart. He took her arm. Their faces drew close together, and they looked into each
other's eyes. She felt an overwhelming tenderness for this strange, rather grotesque though boyish face,
wherein, she told herself, the innocence of childhood was blended with an adult consciousness of power.
She felt the underlying grimness, and she welcomed it. Jim, for his part, was realizing that she was very
desirable. The warm glow of health had returned to her face. (Or was it a glow of love?) The full, sweet
lips, the kindly, observant grey eyes, filled him not only with physical desire but a swooning gentleness
that was new to him. The recollection of his guilt and present deception tormented him. An expression of
misery came over his face. He let go her arm and bowed forward with his head in his hands. Perplexed
and compassionate, she put an arm round his shoulders, and kissed his hair. Suddenly he burst into tears
and buried his head on her breast. She hugged him and crooned over him as though he were her child.
She begged him to tell her what was the matter, but he could only blubber, "Oh, I'm horrible! I'm not
good enough for you."

Later in the day, however, he had quite recovered his spirits, and they walked arm in arm through the
woods. He told her of his recent successes, culminating with the car incident. She was impressed and
amused, but also morally shocked by the irresponsibility of risking a fatal accident merely to test his
powers. At the same time she was obviously fascinated by the fanaticism that drove him to such lengths.
He was flattered by her interest, and intoxicated by her tenderness and her physical proximity. For they
were now resting on the little knoll where he in tended to do his trick with the car, and he was lying with
his head in her lap, gazing up at her face, where all the love that his life had missed seemed to be
gathered. He realized that he was playing the part of an infant rather than a lover. But she seemed to need
him to do so, and he was happy in his role. But soon sexual desire began to reassert itself and with it
masculine self-respect. He conceived an uncontrollable lust to demonstrate his godlike nature by some
formidable display of his powers. He became the primitive savage who must kill an enemy in the
presence of the beloved.

Looking up through Helen's fluttering hair, he saw a small object moving. For a moment he took it for a
gnat, then realized that it was a distant airplane approaching.

"Watch that plane," he said; and she was startled by the abruptness of his voice. She looked up, and
down again at him. His face was contorted with effort. His eyes glared, his nostrils dilated. She had an
impulse to fling him from her, so brutal he looked. But fascination triumphed. "Keep your eyes on the
plane," he commanded. She looked up, then down, then up again. She knew she ought to break the
devilish spell. (There was something called morality, but a delusion, probably.) Fascination had
triumphed.