75 лучших рассказов / 75 Best Short Stories

But why are you pitied?’

�Because I am blind,’ was the tranquil reply.

�Blind!’ exclaimed Mr. Carlyle, using his own eyes superlatively. �Do you mean – literally blind?’

�Literally… I was riding along a bridle-path through a wood about a dozen years ago with a friend. He was in front. At one point a twig sprang back – you know how easily a thing like that happens. It just flicked my eye – nothing to think twice about.’

�And that blinded you?’

�Yes, ultimately. It’s called amaurosis.

’

�I can scarcely believe it. You seem so sure and self-reliant. Your eyes are full of expression – only a little quieter than they used to be. I believe you were typing when I came… Aren’t you having me?’

�You miss the dog and the stick?’ smiled Carrados. �No; it’s a fact.’

�What an awful affliction for you, Max. You were always such an impulsive, reckless sort of fellow – never quiet. You must miss such a fearful lot.’

�Has anyone else recognized you?’ asked Carrados quietly.

�Ah, that was the voice, you said,’ replied Carlyle.

�Yes; but other people heard the voice as well. Only I had no blundering, self-confident eyes to be hoodwinked.’

�That’s a rum way of putting it,’ said Carlyle. �Are your ears never hoodwinked, may I ask?’

�Not now. Nor my fingers. Nor any of my other senses that have to look out for themselves.’

�Well, well,’ murmured Mr. Carlyle, cut short in his sympathetic emotions.

�I’m glad you take it so well. Of course, if you find it an advantage to be blind, old man—’ He stopped and reddened. �I beg your pardon,’ he concluded stiffly.

�Not an advantage, perhaps,’ replied the other thoughtfully. �Still it has compensations that one might not think of. A new world to explore, new experiences, new powers awakening; strange new perceptions; life in the fourth dimension. But why do you beg my pardon, Louis?’

�I am an ex-solicitor, struck off in connexion with the falsifying of a trust account, Mr.

Carrados,’ replied Carlyle, rising.

�Sit down, Louis,’ said Carrados suavely. His face, even his incredibly living eyes, beamed placid good-nature. �The chair on which you will sit, the roof above you, all the comfortable surroundings to which you have so amiably alluded, are the direct result of falsifying a trust account. But do I call you “Mr. Carlyle” in consequence? Certainly not, Louis.