We / Мы. Книга для чтения на английском языке

And ahead of us – a cloud, white as a cataract, preposterous and puffed out like the cheeks of an ancient cupid, and somehow disturbing. Our front window is up. Wind, drying the lips. Involuntarily, you lick them all the time, and all the time you think of lips.

Then, in the distance, blurred green spots – out there, behind the Wall. A slight, quick sinking of the heart – down, down, down – as from a steep mountain, and we are at the Ancient House.

The whole strange, fragile, blind structure is completely enclosed in a glass shell.

Otherwise, of course, it would have fallen apart a long time ago. At the glass door, an old woman, all wrinkled, especially her mouth – nothing but folds and pleats, the lips sunk inward, as if the mouth had grown together somehow. It seemed incredible that she would still be able to speak. And yet, she spoke.

“Well, darlings, so you’ve come to see my little house?” And the wrinkles beamed (they must have arranged themselves radially, creating the impression of “beaming”).

“Yes, Grandmother, I felt like seeing it again,” said I-330.

The wrinkles beamed. “What sunshine, eh? Well, well, now? You little pixy! I know, I know! All right, go in by yourselves, I’ll stay here, in the sun…”

Hm… My companion must be a frequent guest here. I had a strong desire to shake something off, something annoying: probably the same persistent visual image – the cloud on the smooth blue majolica.

As we ascended the broad, dark staircase, I-330 said, “I love her, that old woman.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps for her mouth. Or perhaps for no reason. Just like that.”

I shrugged. She went on, smiling faintly, or perhaps not smiling at all, “I feel terribly guilty. Obviously, there should be no love �just like that,’ but only �love because.

’ All elemental phenomena should…”

“It’s clear…” I began, but immediately caught myself at the word and cast a stealthy glance at I-330: had she noticed it or not?

She was looking down somewhere; her eyes were lowered, like shades.

I thought of the evening hour, at about twenty-two. You walk along the avenue and there, among the bright, transparent cells – the dark ones, with lowered shades.