"Olaf Stapledon - Sirius" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stapledon Olaf)

She put a bowl of tea for him on a little table-cloth on the floor, remarking, "He has two meals generally, dinner at noon and
supper in the evening. But to-day is different." Then she put down a large crust of bread, a hunk of cheese, and a saucer with a
little lump of jam. "Will that keep you going?" she asked. A grunt signified approval.

Plaxy and I sat at the table to eat our bread and rationed butter and war-time cake. She set about telling me the history of Sirius.
Sometimes I put in an occasional question, or Sirius interrupted with his queer speech of whimper and growl.




file:///K|/eMule/Incoming/Sirius,%20by%20W%20Olaf%20Stapledon.html (5 of 126)5-9-2007 13:25:29
Sirius




The matter of this and many other conversations about the past I shall set down in the following chapters. Meanwhile I must say
this. Without the actual presence of Sirius I should not have believed the story; but his interruptions, though canine and
unintelligible, expressed human intelligence by their modulation, and stimulated intelligible answers from Plaxy. Obviously he
was following the conversation, commenting and watching my reaction. And so it was not with incredulity, though of course with
amazement, that I learned of the origin and career of Sirius. I listened at first with grave anxiety, so deeply involved was Plaxy. I
began to understand why it was that our love had always been uneasy, and why when her mother died she did not come back to
me. I began to debate with myself the best way of freeing her from this "inhuman bondage." But as the conversation proceeded I
could not but recognize that this strange relationship of girl and dog was fundamentally beautiful, in a way sacred. (That was the
word I used to myself.) Thus my problem became far more difficult.

At one point, when Plaxy had been saying that she often longed to see me again, Sirius made a more sustained little speech. And
in the middle of it he went over to her, put his fore-paws on the arm of her chair, and with great gentleness and delicacy kissed
her cheek. She took the caress demurely, not shrinking away, as human beings generally do when dogs try to kiss them. But the
healthy glow of her face deepened, and there was moisture in her eyes as she stroked the shaggy softness under his neck, and said
to me, while still looking at him, "I am to tell you, Robert, that Sirius and Plaxy grew up together like the thumb and forefinger of
a hand, that he loves me in the way that only dogs can love, and much more now that I have come to him, but that I must not feel
bound to stay with him, because by now he can fend for himself. Whatever happens to him ever, I--how did you say it, Sirius,
you foolish dear?" He put in a quick sentence, and she continued, "Oh, yes, I am the scent that he will follow always, hunting for
God."

She turned her face towards me with a smile that I shall not forget. Nor shall I forget the bewildering effect of the dog's earnest
and almost formal little declaration. Later I was to realize that a rather stilted diction was very characteristic of him, in moments
of deep feeling.

Then Sirius made another remark with a sly look and a tremor of the tail. She turned back to him laughing, and softly smacked
his face. "Beast," she said, "I shall not tell Robert that."

When Sirius kissed her I was startled into a sudden spasm of jealousy. (A man jealous of a dog!) But Plaxy's translation of his
little speech roused more generous feelings. I now began to make plans by which Plaxy and I together might give Sirius a
permanent home and help him to fulfil his destiny, whatever that might be. But, as I shall tell, a different fate lay in store for us.

During that strange meal Plaxy told me that, as I had guessed, Sirius was her father's crowning achievement, that he had been
brought up as a member of the Trelone family, that he was now helping to run a sheep farm, that she herself was keeping house
for him, and also working on the farm, compensating for his lack of hands.