Hours was not. Occurred nothing. Changed nothing. But when he tried to change a pose, Vikontovy claws stuck to it into a
palm and became sick. At some instant it except a pain has felt there damp and sticky. It seemed to it strange and even has
disturbed, but he has quickly guessed that it the water blister formed on a place of a burn has broken.
It wanted in a lavatory. The come back life prevailed. He has looked round.
Girls behind the panel were not still, and in the doorway still there was motionless, black, imperceptibly strange person, and
Stanislav has thought: it after all and poses has not changed since then, here it is strange. This person seemed a dummy
which someone has put in an aperture of doors - by absent-mindedness, or intentionally. Only dummies in show-windows
have such broken lines of a body. Only dummies are able to be motionless to such degree... And here he has recollected a
white corridor on which they went recently as to attack. Strange people along walls... And strange people in the heart of
badly shined rooms...
All of them were same - the motionless dummies which have grown numb for ever... And they had dark blue persons!. DARK
BLUE. Not bluish-black what happen at Negroes, and not issinja-swarty as at some fans to sunbathe, namely dark blue,
cyanotic, - persons udavlennikov...
He has tried to consider, what person was that stuck out in the doorway, but against light it seemed simply black, as well as
all the rest at it. It has distracted. The viscount has suddenly begun to breathe often-often, its face has become covered by a
perspiration, thick Negro lips have plaintively warped. Something occurred to it. Something unusual. Such did not happen
earlier. Earlier it simply lay in a faint hour or two, having seized to Stanislav a hand the escaped fingers-claws, grey, lifeless,
with pulse-thread and with the gone eyes, and then suddenly came to the senses - released a hand, turned pink the person,
resolutely rose to the feet - indifferently - live, healthy both very angry and dissatisfied... But after all was at it never earlier
neither this dropper, nor wires, in general - doctors was not nearby, and hospitals of this, strange, strict and unpleasant...
Lie, lie, the tramp, Stanislav with the tenderness which has amazed him has thought. I will extend you, the asshole. Always
extended and today I will extend too.
It seems, this only thing that at me it turns out well. Though why? Mine aforizmatika. Both my Antitjuring. And my novel...
Really for the sake of it it is necessary to live? I do not know. Because the main thing now not it...
The main thing now was that he felt itself(himself) as a heap of drop near to which Egyptian vultures beat about the bush.
And at all Egyptian vultures - the death beats about the bush. It was centre of death... Speak, the such have been in the
war noticed: around - fire, a lead downpour, the earth rises on racks, people as if rag dolls fly extensively, fragmentary,
beaten, dead, and it in the middle of all it is as a cucumber, without a uniform scratch, and at all will not be soiled... Did not
love the such. And correctly did. For what them to love?.
"But after all I am not guilty!", - he has told aloud. The viscount has not answered: it yet was not here.