"Robert F. Young - O Little Town of Bethlehem II" - читать интересную книгу автора (Young Robert F)

I love my neighbors and I know my neighbors love me. My love reaches out over the land and I feel
one with the world we have come to call our own. Around me, both men and women are crying. I feel
tears running down my own cheeks.
"Hallelujah!" Pastor Rilke cries. "He is here!" cries Father Fardus. "He is here, He is here, He is
here!"
We get to our feet. I see then that three Stoops have come into the square. They make their way
through the crowd to the tree. They halt before it, staring up at the star.
No one says a word.
Then the three Stoops go over to the crèche. They stand staring at Mary and Joseph and the
shepherds. They look down into the crib. Then one of them kneels before it and places a little bundle on
the ground. One of the others reaches into the crib. The silence is broken then. By Father Fardus's voice.
"He's touching the Christ child with his filthy hands!"
The priest's horror spreads through the crowd. The horror becomes anger, and then fury. "Drive
them away!" Pastor Rilke screams. "Drive them away!"
The gravel covering the square consists of big stones as well as small. I seize one. Men and women
scramble for them. One of the Stoops shrieks as a stone glances off his shoulder. They try to make their
way out of the square. But the crowd has formed a circle around them.
Pastor Rilke steps over to the crib and kicks away the little bundle as though it were a bomb. It falls
apart and tubers tumble over the ground. The air is thick with stones now. The children are throwing
them too. One of the Stoops has fallen down. Blood is gushing from his forehead.
"Dirty land hogs!" Henrietta Holtz screams, but the stone she throws goes wild.
Melissa's aim is better. Her stone strikes one of the Stoops on the chest. "Because of you stupid
creeps we have to farm dead land!" Maria Rosario shouts.
"Kill the dirty land hogs!" screams Dorothy Best. "Kill them, kill them, kill them!"
Rich Jefferson picks up a great big stone and heaves it. It misses one of the Stoops by inches. The
two who are still on their feet pick up the fallen one. Dragging him, they try to force their way through the
crowd. Both are bleeding. The colonists in their path claw at them and strike them with their fists, but
they weather the blows and at length they drag their companion off into the darkness. We let them go.
Slowly fury fades from our faces. Love takes its place. The Wave from faraway Earth is still washing
over us. Rich Jefferson, who is a soul for neatness, gathers up the scattered tubers, carries them to the
edge of the square and throws them into one of the drainage ditches. We begin to sing again. "Silent
Night." "Hark! the Herald Angels Sing." "Good King Wenceslas." The voices of adult and child rise
heavenward to the stars. Afterward we file into the two churches where Pastor Rilke and Father Fardus
give thanks to God for sending us His Son.