[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
."How're your children, Mrs.Phelps?" he asked."You know I haven't any! No one in his right mind, the Good Lord knows; would havechildren!" said Mrs.Phelps, not quite sure why she was angry with this man."I wouldn't say that," said Mrs.Bowles."I've had two children by Caesarian section.No use going through all that agony for a baby.The world must reproduce, you know,the race must go on.Besides, they sometimes look just like you, and that's nice.TwoCaesarians tamed the trick, yes, sir.Oh, my doctor said, Caesarians aren'tnecessary; you've got the, hips for it, everything's normal, but I insisted.""Caesarians or not, children are ruinous; you're out of your mind," said Mrs.Phelps."I plunk the children in school nine days out of ten.I put up with them when theycome home three days a month; it's not bad at all.You heave them into the 'parlour'and turn the switch.It's like washing clothes; stuff laundry in and slam the lid." Mrs.Bowles tittered."They'd just as soon kick as kiss me.Thank God, I can kick back! "The women showed their tongues, laughing.Mildred sat a moment and then, seeing that Montag was still in the doorway, clappedher hands."Let's talk politics, to please Guy!""Sounds fine," said Mrs.Bowles."I voted last election, same as everyone, and I laid iton the line for President Noble.I think he's one of the nicest-looking men who everbecame president.""Oh, but the man they ran against him!""He wasn't much, was he? Kind of small and homely and he didn't shave too close orcomb his hair very well.""What possessed the 'Outs' to run him? You just don't go running a little short manlike that against a tall man.Besides -he mumbled.Half the time I couldn't hear aword he said.And the words I did hear I didn't understand!""Fat, too, and didn't dress to hide it.No wonder the landslide was for Winston Noble.Even their names helped.Compare Winston Noble to Hubert Hoag for ten secondsand you can almost figure the results.""Damn it!" cried Montag."What do you know about Hoag and Noble?""Why, they were right in that parlour wall, not six months ago.One was alwayspicking his nose; it drove me wild.""Well, Mr.Montag," said Mrs.Phelps, "do you want us to vote for a man like that?"Mildred beamed."You just run away from the door, Guy, and don't make usnervous."But Montag was gone and back in a moment with a book in his hand."Guy!""Damn it all, damn it all, damn it!""What've you got there; isn't that a book? I thought that all special training these dayswas done by film." Mrs.Phelps blinked."You reading up on fireman theory?""Theory, hell," said Montag."It's poetry.""Montag." A whisper."Leave me alone! " Montag felt himself turning in a great circling roar and buzz andhum."Montag, hold on, don't.""Did you hear them, did you hear these monsters talking about monsters? Oh God,the way they jabber about people and their own children and themselves and the waythey talk about their husbands and the way they talk about war, dammit, I stand hereand I can't believe it!""I didn't say a single word about any war, I'll have you know," said Mrs, Phelps."As for poetry, I hate it," said Mrs.Bowles. "Have you ever read any?""Montag," Faber's voice scraped away at him."You'll ruin everything.Shut up, youfool!""All three women were on their feet."Sit down!"They sat."I'm going home," quavered Mrs.Bowles."Montag, Montag, please, in the name of God, what are you up to?" pleaded Faber."Why don't you just read us one of those poems from your little book," Mrs.Phelpsnodded."I think that'd he very interesting.""That's not right," wailed Mrs.Bowles."We can't do that!""Well, look at Mr.Montag, he wants to, I know he does.And if we listen nice, Mr.Montag will be happy and then maybe we can go on and do something else." Sheglanced nervously at the long emptiness of the walls enclosing them."Montag, go through with this and I'll cut off, I'll leave." The beetle jabbed his ear."What good is this, what'll you prove?""Scare hell out of them, that's what, scare the living daylights out!"Mildred looked at the empty air."Now Guy, just who are you talking to?"A silver needle pierced his brain."Montag, listen, only one way out, play it as a joke,cover up, pretend you aren't mad at all.Then-walk to your wall-incinerator, and throwthe book in!"Mildred had already anticipated this in a quavery voice."Ladies, once a year, everyfireman's allowed to bring one book home, from the old days, to show his family howsilly it all was, how nervous that sort of thing can make you, how crazy.Guy'ssurprise tonight is to read you one sample to show how mixed-up things were, sonone of us will ever have to bother our little old heads about that junk again, isn't thatright, darling?"He crushed the book in his fists."Say `yes.'"His mouth moved like Faber's."Yes."Mildred snatched the book with a laugh."Here! Read this one.No, I take it back.Here's that real funny one you read out loud today.Ladies, you won't understand aword.It goes umpty-tumpty-ump.Go ahead, Guy, that page, dear."He looked at the opened page.A fly stirred its wings softly in his ear."Read.""What's the title, dear?""Dover Beach." His mouth was numb."Now read in a nice clear voice and go slow."The room was blazing hot, he was all fire, he was all coldness; they sat in the middleof an empty desert with three chairs and him standing, swaying, and him waiting forMrs.Phelps to stop straightening her dress hem and Mrs.Bowles to take her fingersaway from her hair.Then he began to read in a low, stumbling voice that grew firmeras he progressed from line to line, and his voice went out across the desert, into thewhiteness, and around the three sitting women there in the great hot emptiness:"`The Sea of FaithWas once, too, at the full, and round earth's shoreLay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.But now I only hearIts melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,Retreating, to the breathOf the night-wind, down the vast edges drear And naked shingles of the world."'The chairs creaked under the three women
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]