The Lost World / Затерянный мир

Even at his worst I can usually control him.”

So I was conducted to the end of the passage. I entered the room and found myself face to face with the Professor.

He sat in a chair behind a broad table, which was covered with books, maps, and diagrams. His appearance made me gasp. I was prepared for something strange, but not for so overpowering a personality as this. It was his size which took one’s breath away[19 - to took one’s breath away – захватывать дух]… His head was enormous, the largest I have ever seen.

His hair and beard were bluish-black, the latter was spade-shaped and rippling down over his chest. The eyes were blue-gray under great black eyebrows, very clear, very critical, and very masterful. This and a roaring voice made up my first impression of the notorious Professor Challenger.

“Well?” said he, with a most arrogant stare. “What now?”

“You were good enough to give me an appointment, sir,” said I, producing his envelope.

“Oh, you are the young person who cannot understand plain English, are you? And you approve my conclusions, as I understand?”

“Entirely, sir, entirely!” I was very emphatic.

“Dear me! That strengthens my position very much, does it not? Well, at least you are better than that herd of swine in Vienna.”

“They seem to have behaved outrageously,” said I.

“I assure you that I have no need of your sympathy. Well, sir, let us do what we can to end this visit.

You had some comments to make up.”

There was such a brutal directness in his speech which made everything very difficult. Oh, my Irish wits, could they not help me now, when I needed help so sorely? He looked at me with two sharp eyes.

“Come, come!” he rumbled.

“I am, of course, a simple student,” said I, with a smile, “an earnest inquirer. At the same time, it seemed to me that you were a little severe towards your colleagues.”

“Severe? Well… I suppose you are aware,” said he, checking off points upon his fingers, “that the cranial index is a constant factor?”

“Naturally,” said I.

“And that telegony is still doubtful?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“And that the germ plasm is different from the parthenogenetic egg?”

“Surely!” I cried.

“But what does that prove?” he asked, in a gentle, persuasive voice.

“Ah, what indeed?” I murmured.