"Эрнест Хемингуэй. Big two-hearted river" - читать интересную книгу автора

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Big two-hearted river


E.Hemingway. The Complete Short Stories.
N.Y,.Charles Scribner'S Sons, 1987, P.163-180
OCR: Џа®ҐЄв TextShare.da.ru




Part I

The train went on up the track out of sight, around one of the hills of
burnt timber. Nick sat down on the bundle of canvas and bedding the baggage
man had pitched out of the door of the baggage car. There was no town,
nothing but the rails and the burned-over country. The thirteen saloons that
had lined the one street of Seney had not left a trace. The foundations of
the Mansion House hotel stuck up above the ground. The stone was chipped and
split by the fire. It was all that was left of the town of Seney. Even the
surface had been burned off the ground.
Nick looked at the burned-over stretch of hillside, where he had
expected to find the scattered houses of the town and then walked down the
railroad track to the bridge over the river. The river was there. It swirled
against the log spiles of the bridge. Nick looked down into the clear, brown
water, colored from the pebbly bottom, and watched the trout keeping
themselves steady in the current with wavering fins. As he watched them they
changed their positions by quick angles, only to hold steady in the fast
water again. Nick watched them a long time.
He watched them holding themselves with their noses into the current,
many trout in deep, fast moving water, slightly distorted as he watched far
down through the glassy convex surface of the pool, its surface pushing and
swelling smooth against the resistance of the log-driven piles of the
bridge. At the bottom of the pool were the big trout. Nick did not see them
at first. Then he saw them at the bottom of the pool, big trout looking to
hold themselves on the gravel bottom in a varying mist of gravel and sand,
raised in spurts by the current.
Nick looked down into the pool from the bridge. It was a hot day. A
kingfisher flew up the stream. It was a long time since Nick had looked into
a stream and seen trout. They were very satisfactory. As the shadow of the
kingfisher moved up the stream, a big trout shot upstream in a long angle,
only his shadow marking the angle, then lost his shadow as he came through
the surface of the water, caught the sun, and then, as he went back into the
stream under the surface, his shadow seemed to float down the stream with
the current, unresisting, to his post under the bridge where he tightened
facing up into the current.
Nick's heart tightened as the trout moved. He felt all the old feeling.
He turned and looked down the stream. It stretched away,
pebbly-bottomed with shallows and big boulders and a deep pool as it curved