"Трумэн Капоте. The grass harp (Луговая арфа, англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

have come so far from God as to sit up in a tree like a drunken
Indian-sucking cigarettes like a common..."
"Floozy," supplied Mrs. Macy Wheeler.
"...floozy, while your sister lies in misery flat on her back."
Maybe they were right in describing Catherine as dangerous, for she
reared up and said: "Preacher lady, don't you go calling Dolly and us
floozies; 111 come down there and slap you bowlegged." Fortunately, none of
them could understand her; if they had, the sheriff might have shot her
through the head: no exaggeration; and many of the white people in town
would have said he did right
Dolly seemed stunned, at the same time self-possessed. You see, she
simply dusted her skirt and said: "Consider a moment, Mrs. Buster, and you
will realize that we are nearer God than you-by several yards."
"Good for you. Miss Dolly. I call that a good answer." The man who had
spoken was Judge Cool; he clapped his hands together and chuckled
appreciatively. "Of course they are nearer God," he said, unfazed by the
disapproving, sober faces around him. "They're in a tree, and we're on the
ground."
Mrs. Buster whirled on him. "I'd thought you were a Christian, Charlie
Cool. My ideas of a Christian do not include laughing at and encouraging a
poor mad woman."
"Mind who you name as mad, Thelma," said the Judge. "That isn't
especially Christian either."
The Reverend Buster opened fire. "Answer me this. Judge. Why did you
come with us if it wasn't to do the Lord's will in a spirit of mercy?"
"The Lord's will?" said the Judge incredulously. "You dont know what
that is any more than I do. Perhaps the Lord told these people to go live in
a tree; you'll admit, at least, that He never told you to drag them
out-unless, of course, Verena Talbo is the Lord, a theory several of you
give credence to, eh Sheriff? No, sir, I did not come along to do anyone's
will but my own: which merely means that I felt like taking a walk - the
woods are very handsome at this time of year." He picked some brown violets
and put them in his buttonhole.
•To hell with all that," began the Sheriff, and was again interrupted
by Mrs. Buster, who said that under no circumstances would she tolerate
swearing: Will we. Reverend? and the Reverend, backing her up, said he'd be
damned if they would. "I'm in charge here," the Sheriff informed them,
thrusting his bully-boy jaw. "This is a matter for the law."
"Whose law, Junius?" inquired Judge Cool quietly. "Remember that I sat
in the courthouse twenty-seven years, rather a longer time than you've
lived. Take care. We have no legal right whatever to interfere with Miss
Dolly."
Undaunted, the Sheriff hoisted himself a little into the tree. "Let's
don't have any more trouble," he said coaxingly, and we could see his curved
dog-teeth. "Come on down from there, the pack of you." As we continued to
sit like three nesting birds he showed more of his teeth and, as though he
were trying to shake us out, angrily swayed a branch.
"Miss Dolly, you've always been a peaceful person," said Mrs. Macy
Wheeler. "Please come on home with us; you don't want to miss your dinner."
Dolly replied matter-of-faetly that we were not hungry: were they? "There's