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Ян Ларри. Приключения Карика и Вали - Вали - The Extraordinary Adventures of Karik and ValyaПриключения >> Сказки >> Сказки >> Ян Ларри. Приключения Карика и Вали Читать целиком Yan Larri. The Extraordinary Adventures of Karik and Valya
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Translated from the Russian by John P.Mandeville
Russian original title: Йеквщюбсйще лмяухаюейяц Убмяуб я Чбхя
Leningrad 1937
OCR: Tuocs
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CHAPTER I
Granny is difficult - Mother is worried - Jack gets on a hot scent - A
strange discovery is made in the Professor's study - The Professor
disappears
MOTHER SPREAD A BIG WHITE CLOTH ON THE TABLE. GRANNY went over towards
the sideboard. In the dining-room knives and forks jingled cheerfully and
plates clattered.
"Is it egg and onion pie?" asked Granny.
"Yes. The children have been begging and begging me for it," said
Mother, as she put out the plates.
"And is the sweet strawberries, and cream? "
"No. To-day we are going to have ice cream pudding for a sweet! The
children do love it so."
"All the same," mumbled Granny, "in the summer it is better for the
children to have berries and fruit. . . . When I was a little girl. . . ."
But Mother, apparently, was quite convinced Granny never had been a
little girl. Shrugging her shoulders she went over to the window and,
looking out into the courtyard, shouted loudly:
"Ka-a-ari-ik! Va-alya-ya! Lu-unch!"
"When I was a little girl . . . . " continued Granny, offended; but
Mother, not listening to her, leaned out on the window-sill and shouted
still louder:
"Karik! Valya! Where are you?"
In the courtyard all was silent.
"There you are," grumbled Granny. "I knew it would happen. . . ."
"Karik! Valya!" Mother shouted again, and not waiting for an answer sat
down on the window-sill and asked, "Didn't they tell you where they were
going to go?"
Granny bit her lip angrily. "When I was a little girl," she announced,
"I always said where I was going, but nowadays . . . ." She straightened the
cloth on the table, frowning. "Nowadays they just do as they like . . . if
they take the fancy they'll go off to the North Pole; and sometimes even
worse. . . . Why, only yesterday they announced on the radio. . . ."
"What did they announce?" asked Mother, hastily. "Oh, nothing! Just
that some boy was drowned - at least that was what they said."
Mother shuddered. "That's all nonsense," she said, sliding off the
window-sill. "Fiddlesticks! Rubbish! Karik and Valya would never go off and
bathe."
"I don't know, I don't know!" Granny shook her head. "Only they should
have been here ages ago and there is no sign of them. They ran off early and
haven't had anything to eat this morning."
Mother put her hand up to her face, and not saying anything more went
out of the dining-room quickly.
"When I was a little girl . . . ," sighed Granny.
But what Granny did when she was a little girl Mother just didn't hear,
she was already out in the courtyard and screwing up her eyes in the bright
sunlight was peering in all directions.
On a yellow mound of sand lay Valya's green spade with the bent handle,
and beside it was flung Karik's faded beret.
No sign of the children.
Under the rusty gutter pipe, warming herself in the sun, was the big
tortoise-shell cat - Anyuta. She lazily wrinkled her forehead and stretched
out her paws as if she wanted to give them to Mother.
"Karik! Valya!" shouted Mother, and actually stamped her foot.
Anyuta, the cat, opened her green eyes widely, stared at Mother, and
then, yawning luxuriously, turned over on the other side.
"What has become of them?" grumbled Mother.
She crossed the courtyard, glanced into the laundry room, peeped
through the dark windows of the cellar where the firewood was kept. No sign
of the children.
"Ka-ari-ik!" she shouted once again.
There was no reply. "Va-a-lya!" Mother cried out.
"Wough-ough, woof!" sounded quite close at hand. The door at a side
entrance slammed violently. A big sheep-dog with a sharp pointed nose leaped
out into the yard with his chain dragging behind him. With one rush he was
on the mound, rolling in the sand, raising a great cloud of dust; then up he
jumped, shook himself and with loud barking hurled himself at Mother.
Mother stepped back quickly.
"Back! No, you don't! Get away with you!" She shooed him off with her
hands.
"Down, Jack! To heel!" a loud voice resounded in the doorway.
A fat man wearing sandals on his bare feet and with a lighted cigarette
in his hand had come into the yard.
It was the tenant from the fourth floor, the photographer Schmidt.
"What are you up to, Jack, eh?" asked the fat man. Jack guiltily wagged
his tail.
"Such a fool you are!" grinned the photographer. Pretending to yawn,
Jack came up to his master, sat down and with a jingling chain set about
scratching his neck with his hind leg.
"Grand weather to-day!" smiled the fat man. "Aren't you going to your
country cottage?"
Mother stared first at the fat man, then at the dog and then said
rather crossly:
"You have let that dog out again, Comrade Schmidt, without his muzzle.
He behaves just like a wolf. He just looks around to see at whom he can
snap. . . ."
"What, Jack?" said the fat man, apparently most surprised. "Why, he
wouldn't harm a child! He is as peaceful as a dove. Would you like to stroke
him?"
Mother waved him away with her hand.
"You think I have nothing else to do but to stroke dogs! At home, lunch
is getting cold, none of the housework is done and here I am unable to get
hold of the children. Ka-a-ri-ik! Val-a-alya!" she shouted once more.
"You just stroke Jack and ask him nicely. Say: 'Now then Jack, go find
Karik and Valya.' He'll find them in a wink!" Schmidt bent down to his dog
and rubbed his neck affectionately. "You'll find them, won't you Jack?"
Jack made a little whimpering noise and, quite unexpectedly, jumped up
and licked the full lips of the photographer. The fat man staggered back,
fussily spat out and wiped his lips with his sleeve.
Mother laughed.
"You need not laugh," Schmidt gravely assured her, "this is a
sleuthhound. He follows the scent of a human being just like a train running
on rails. Would you like me to show you?"
"I believe you!" said Mother.
"No, no!" the fat man was getting agitated. "Allow me to assure you
that if I say it is true, it is true! Now then, just give me something
belonging to Karik or Valya - a toy - coat - beret. It does not matter what.
. . ."
Mother shrugged her shoulders, but all the same she stooped down,
picked up the spade and beret and, smiling, handed them to Schmidt.
"Splendid! Excellent!" said the fat man, and gave the beret to the dog
to smell. "Now, Jack," he continued loudly, "show them how you do it! Go
find them, boy!"
Jack whimpered, put his nose to the ground and, sticking up his tail,
started to run round the courtyard in large circles.
The photographer cheerfully puffed along behind him.
Having run up to the cat Anyuta, Jack stopped. The cat jumped up, bent
herself into a bow and flashing her green eyes hissed like a snake. Jack
tried to grab her by the tail.
The cat bristled up, gave Jack a box on the ear; the poor dog squealed
with pain, but at once recovered himself and with a loud bark flung himself
at Anyuta. The cat again hissed and raised one paw as if to say: "
Sh-sh-sh-shove off! I'll s-s-slap you s-s-such a one!"
"Now, now, Jack," said the photographer, "you mustn't get put off!" and
he tugged so hard at the lead that the dog sat back on his hind legs. "Get
on, now! Go find them!" he ordered.
With a parting bark at the cat, Jack ran on ahead. He ran around the
whole yard and once more stopped by the gutter pipe and loudly sniffed the
air, looking at his master.
"I understand, I understand!" said the photographer, nodding his head.
"They sat here, of course, playing with the cat! But where did they go
afterwards? Now, go find them, go find them, Jack!"
Jack started wagging his tail, twisted himself around like a top,
scraped with his paws at the sand under the pipe and then, with a loud bark,
dashed to the main entrance to the flats.
"Ha-ha! he's got on the scent!" shouted Schmidt, and with his sandals
slithering he leaped after the dog.
"If you do find the children, send them home!" Mother called after him,
and started walking back through the yard. "Of course they are in one of the
neighbouring courtyards," she thought to herself.
Pulling hard on his lead, Jack hauled his master up a staircase.
"Not so fast! Not so fast!" puffed the fat man, barely able to keep up
with the dog.
On the landing of the fifth floor, Jack stopped for a second, gazed at
his master and with a short bark threw himself at a door which was covered
with oilcloth and felt.
On the door there hung a white enamelled plate with the inscription:
PROFESSOR
IVAN HERMOGENEVITCH ENOTOFF
Underneath was pinned a notice:
Bell does not work. Please knock.
Jack with a squeal jumped up, scratching at the oilcloth covering the
door.
"Down, Jack!" shouted the fat man. "It says knock, and not squeal."
The photographer Schmidt smoothed his hair with the palm of his hand,
carefully wiped the perspiration off his face with a handkerchief and then
knocked cautiously at the door with his knuckles.
Behind the door shuffling steps were heard.
The lock clicked.
The door opened. A face with shaggy eyebrows and a yellowish white
beard appeared in the widening gap.
"Do you want me?"
"Excuse me, Professor," said the photographer in some confusion, "I
only wanted to ask you - "
The stout man had not succeeded in finishing his sentence before Jack
tore the lead out of his hand and, almost knocking the Professor off his
feet, dashed into the flat.
"Come back! Jack! To heel!" shouted Schmidt.
But Jack was already rattling his chain somewhere at the end of the
corridor.
"I am so sorry, Professor, Jack is only young. . . . If you will let me
come in, I'll soon get hold of him."
"Yes, yes . . . of course," replied the Professor, absent-mindedly,
letting Schmidt into the flat. "Come in, please. I hope your dog does not
bite!"
"Hardly ever," Schmidt assured the Professor.
The photographer crossed the threshold and having closed the door
behind him, said quietly: "A thousand apologies! I won't be a minute. . . .
The children must be with you - Karik and Valya, from the second floor. . .
."
"Allow me, allow me! Karik and Valya? Yes, of course, I know them well.
Very fine children. Polite and eager to learn.. . "
"Are they here?"
"No, they haven't been here to-day; in fact I am waiting for them!"
"Very odd !" muttered the stout man. "Jack has so certainly followed
their trail. . . . ."
"But may be it is yesterday's trail?" politely suggested the Professor.
But Schmidt did not succeed in replying. In the further room, Jack was
barking resoundingly, then something rattled, crashed and jingled as if a
cupboard or table had fallen with crockery on it.
The Professor started.
"He may break up everything!" he shouted as if he was going to cry, and
seizing Schmidt by the sleeve pulled him along the dark corridor. "Here!
through here!" he barked, pushing open a door.
No sooner had the Professor and the photographer crossed the threshold
of the room than Jack threw himself at his master's chest with a whimper and
then at once dashed back with a bark. All around the room he darted with his
lead behind him, smelling the bookshelves, jumping on the leather armchair,
twisting himself under the table, all the time throwing himself from side to
side.
On the table, tubes and retorts jingled as they bounced up and down,
tall glass vessels swayed and fine glass tubes shivered. From one violent
jolt the microscope, with its brass sparkling in the sun, started to rock.
The Professor only just succeeded in catching it. But in saving the
microscope, he caught with his sleeve a gleaming nickel container full of
some sort of complicated weights. The container fell and the weights jumped
out and scattered with a jingle over the yellow parquet floor.
"What are you up to, Jack?" gruffly jerked out the photographer. "You
are making an ass of yourself. You're barking, but what is the use? Where
are the children?"
Jack put his head on one side. He pricked up his ears and looked most
attentively at his master, trying to understand what it was that they were
scolding him about.
The photographer shook his head disapprovingly.
"You should be ashamed of yourself, Jack! They said you were a
sleuthhound! With a diploma! And all you can do is to chase cats instead of
following a trail. Now, come home! Be generous enough to forgive us. Comrade
Professor, for this disturbance!"
The photographer bowed awkwardly and made towards the door. But here
Jack became possessed as of a devil. He seized his master by the breeches
with his teeth, and planting his feet on the slippery parquet floor, tugged
towards the table.
"What on earth is up with you?" complained the fat man in amazement.
Squealing, Jack once more darted around the table, but then leaped on
the small divan which stood in front of the open window and putting his paws
on the window-sill, barked with short, jerky barks.
Schmidt got angry.
"Come to heel!" he shouted, seizing the dog by the collar; but Jack
stubbornly shook his head and again darted to the divan. "I can't understand
it!" The photographer threw up his hands.
"Probably there is a mouse behind the divan!" the Professor guessed.
"Or maybe a crust of bread or a bone. I often have my dinner there."
He went up to the divan and pulled it towards him. At the back of the
divan, something rustled and softly padded to the ground.
"A crust!" said the Professor.
Jack at that moment tore himself forward and squeezed, with his tail
sticking up, between the wall, and just managed to shift the divan. He
seized something in his teeth.
"Come on, show us what it is!" shouted the photographer.
Jack backed out, shook his head, turned abruptly to his master, and
laid at his feet a child's down-at-heel sandal. The photographer perplexedly
turned the find over in his hand.
"Apparently some sort of a child's shoe. . . ."
"H'm . . . strange!" said the Professor, examining the sandal. "Very
strange!"
Whilst they were turning the find over in their hands. Jack pulled out
from behind the divan a further three sandals, one the same size and two
smaller ones.
Unable to follow what had happened, the Professor and the stout man
looked first at each other and then at the sandals. Schmidt knocked the hard
sole of one sandal with his knuckle, and for no apparent reason said:
"Strong enough! They're good sandals!"
But Jack meanwhile had pulled out from under the divan a pair of blue
shorts and, pressing them with his paws to the floor, barked softly.
"Something more?" said the Professor, quite perplexed.
He bent over, and would have stretched out his hand for the shorts, but
Jack bared his teeth and growled so threateningly that the Professor very
quickly withdrew his hand.
"What a very unfriendly nature he has, to be sure!" said the Professor
in some confusion.
"Yes, he is not over-polite to me!" agreed the photographer.
He took the shorts, shook them, and, folding them neatly, laid them
before the Professor.
"Please take them."
The Professor looked sideways at Jack.
"No, no, it is quite unnecessary," said he. "I can see everything. . .
. Well, now . . . well, now . . . there are the markings V and K. Valya and
Karik!" And he touched with his fingers big white letters sewn in the belts
of the shorts.
The stout man wiped his face with the palm of his hand.
"Is there a bathroom in the flat?" he asked in a businesslike way.
"No," replied the Professor, "there is no bathroom. But if you want to
wash your hands, there's. . . ."
"Oh, no," panted the stout man, "I can wash at home. But I thought they
might have undressed and were bathing themselves. Do you see what I mean?"
"Certainly." The Professor nodded his head.
"But where have they hidden themselves? Naked . . . without shorts,
without sandals? I don't understand it at all!" Schmidt made a gesture of
hopelessness.
Then he put his hands behind his back, spread out his feet, lowered his
head and gazed solidly at the yellow rectangles of the parquet; then he
suddenly straightened himself up and said confidently:
"Don't worry! We'll find them any minute now. They are here, Professor.
They are simply hiding! You can be sure of that! My Jack has never been
mistaken yet."
The Professor and the photographer proceeded on a tour round all the
rooms; they examined the kitchen and even looked into the dark larder.
Jack listlessly tailed along behind them.
In the dining-room, the stout man opened the doors of the sideboard,
poked his head under the table, and in the bedroom searched with his hands
underneath the bed. But there was no trace of the children in the flat.
"Wherever can they have hidden themselves?" muttered the photographer.
"In my opinion," said the Professor, "they have not been here to-day."
"That's what you think?" questioned Schmidt thoughtfully. "You think
they have not been here? But what do you think, Jack? Are they here or
aren't they?"
Jack barked.
"Here?"
Jack barked again.
"Well, go find them! Go find them, you dog!"
Jack at once cheered up. He threw himself round and once more led the
Professor and Schmidt into the study. Here he again jumped on to the
window-sill and started to bark loudly, and then to whimper as if he wanted
to assure his master that the children had left the room through the window.
Schmidt got angry.
"You're nothing but a dunce ! Just a puppy ! You actually think that
the children jumped out into the yard through a window on the fifth floor?
Or perhaps you think they flew out of the window like flies or dragonflies?"
"What !" The Professor started. "They flew? What dragonfly?"
The photographer smiled.
"Well, that is what Jack thinks!"
The Professor seized his head in his hands.
"What an awful thing!" His voice was hoarse.
The photographer gazed at him in amazement and asked:
"What is the matter with you? Here, have a drink of water! You are not
well."
He stepped towards the table on which stood a glass jug full of water;
but here the Professor positively screamed as if he had trodden on red-hot
iron with bare feet.
"Stop! stop! stop!" he yelled.
The photographer, now frightened, froze in his tracks.
The Professor shot out his hand and grabbed a glass containing what
appeared to be water, hastily raised it to the level of his eyes and looked
through it towards the light. Then he hastily produced a huge magnifying
glass with a horn handle from his pocket and shouted to Schmidt:
"Don't move! For goodness' sake, don't move! And hold the dog tight !
Better take him in your arms. I beg you!"
The fat man, thoroughly frightened, was completely bewildered. Without
further ado, he picked up the dog in his arms and pressed him tightly to his
chest. "The old man has gone off his head!" he thought.
"Now, stay like that!" shouted the Professor.
Holding the magnifying glass in front of his eyes, crouching down, he
started to examine the rectangles of the floor carefully one after the
other.
"Shall I have to stand long like this, Professor?" timidly asked the
photographer as he followed with alarm the strange movements of the
Professor.
"Put one foot here!" the Professor yelled at him, pointing with his
finger at the nearest rectangles of the parquet.
Schmidt awkwardly moved his foot and pressed Jack so tightly that he
wriggled in his arms and started to whimper.
"Shut up!" whispered Schmidt, watching the Professor with growing
fright.
"Now - the other foot! Put it here!"
The fat man followed without protest.
Thus, step by step, the Professor conducted the photographer, who was
quite dumb with astonishment, to the doorway.
"And now," gruff-gruffed1 the Professor, throwing the door wide open,
"please go away!"
Schmidt had hardly got outside before the door banged in his face. He
could hear the lock being turned.
The fat man dropped Jack, spluttered with fright and dashed down the
stairway, losing his sandals, out of breath, looking over his shoulder every
minute.
Jack, with a great bark, plunged after him.
And they did not stop running until they reached the nearest militia
post.2
* * * * *
A motor-car with blue stripes on its sides drove at high speed into the
courtyard. Several militiamen sprang out, called out the caretaker and
hastened to the fifth floor home of Professor Enotoff.
1 Russians make use of words which show what they mean by their sound.
"Gruff-gruff" has been made up and is used in various places to illustrate
this. - Translator.
2 In the Soviet Union "policemen" no longer exist; in their place are
"Militiamen" who occupy "Militia posts," not "police stations."
But the Professor did not appear to be at home. On the door of his flat
there hung a note, pinned up with new drawing pins:
Don't look for me. It will be quite useless.
Professor J. H. Enotoff.
CHAPTER II
The wonder-working liquid - The bewildering behaviour of shorts and
sandals - A very ordinary room is transformed in a very extraordinary way -
Adventures on the window-sill - Karik and Valya set off on an amazing
journey
WHAT HAD HAPPENED WAS JUST THIS. On the evening of the day previous to
that on which the children had vanished, Karik was sitting in the study of
Professor Enotoff. The evening was a good time to have a chat with the old
man.
The study was in semi-darkness and long dark shadows appeared to be
climbing to the ceiling from the black corners of the room: it seemed as if
someone was hiding up there and was gazing down at the circle of light on
the big table. Blue flames of a spirit lamp leaped up, flickered and swayed
underneath the curved bottom of a glass retort. In the retort something
gurgled and bubbled. Transparent drops were falling slowly and musically
from a filter into a bottle.
Karik climbed up on to the biggest leather armchair.
Pressing his chin on the edge of the table, he gazed attentively at the
skilful hands of the Professor, trying hard not to breathe, and not to move.
The Professor worked away, whistling, or telling Karik amusing stories
of his childhood, but more often talking about what he had seen in Africa,
America or Australia - it was all very interesting, whatever he said.
Then, rolling up the white sleeves of his overall, he bent over the
table and slowly, drop by drop, he poured out a thicky oily liquid into
narrow little glasses. From time to time he threw into these glasses some
sparkling crystals, and then little clouds would appear in the liquid,
slowly circle round and drop to the bottom. After this, the old man poured
something blue out of a measure and the liquid became, for some reason, rose
coloured.
All this, naturally, was most interesting, and Karik was ready to stay
there all night.
But suddenly, the Professor hastily dried his hands on a towel, grasped
the large retort by the neck and rapidly covered it up with blue paper.
"Well, that's that!" he said. "At last I can congratulate myself on a
success."
"It's ready?" asked Karik, cheerfully.
"Yes. All that remains now is to take the colour out of it, and . . ."
The Professor snapped his fingers, and in a weird voice sang:
0 beauteous, miraculous fluid!
They'll all ask: How did you do it?
Karik could not help frowning: the Professor sang so loudly, but
unfortunately he had no ear for music and sang a melody which resembled the
wailing of the wind in a chimney pipe. "Suppose the rabbit won't drink it?"
questioned Karik. "Won't drink it!" The Professor just shrugged his
shoulders. "We'll make it drink . . . but that must wait for to-morrow . .
.but now. . . ." The old man looked at the clock and started to fuss:
"Oh-oh-oh, Karik! We've stayed up far too late. Eleven o'clock. Yes. It's
two minutes past eleven!"
Karik realised that it was time to go home. With a sigh, he climbed
down reluctantly from the armchair and demanded:
"You won't begin without me to-morrow?"
"Not under any circumstances," assured the Professor, shaking his head.
"That I promise you."
"And can Valya come?"
"Valya?" The Professor thought over this. "Well, why not . . . bring
Valya. . . ."
"Nothing will happen very suddenly?"
"Everything will happen," said the Professor confidently, as he blew
out the spirit lamp.
"And will the rabbit turn into a flea?"
"Oh, no," laughed the Professor. "The rabbit will remain a rabbit."
"But tell me, Professor. . . ."
"No, no, I will not tell you anything more. Quite enough. We can leave
our conversation until to-morrow. Go home, my young friend. I am tired, and
it is high time you were in bed."
All night long, Karik tossed from side to side. He dreamt he saw a pink
elephant, so tiny that you could put him in a thimble. The elephant was
eating jam, then ran along the table, round a saucer, playing such pranks
that he upset the salt and nearly got drowned in the mustard. Karik rescued
him from the mustard pot and started to clean him up, standing him in a
little dish, but the elephant wrenched himself away and gave Karik a blow on
the shoulder with his trunk. Then he suddenly jumped up on to Karik's head
and said in a queer girlish voice, vaguely familiar: "What is the matter,
Karik? Why are you shouting?"
Karik opened his eyes. Beside his bed, in a dressing-gown, stood Valya.
"Aha! you - awake already?" said Karik. "Grand! Dress yourself
quickly."
"What for?"
"We must start. Going to the Professor's. Oo-oo, what will happen
to-day . . .? Such wonders! . . . miracles!"
"But what?"
"Dress yourself quickly."
"I'll put on shorts and sandals," said Valya.
"And I'll do the same."
Looking under the bed for his sandals, Karik told her in a whisper:
"Understand: Professor John has invented a pink liquid."
"Does it taste nice?" asked Valya, buckling the strap of her sandals.
"I don't know . . . it's for rabbits . . . he is going to give it to
them to-day . . . make them drink it, and then. . . . Oo-oo, my word!"
Valya's eyes opened widely.
"And what will happen to them?" she asked in a whisper.
"He doesn't know yet. This is just an experiment. Come on quickly!"
The children quietly tiptoed through their mother's room. Mother
shouted something after them, but Karik grabbed Valya by the hand and raced
off with her.
"Keep quiet," he whispered, "or she'll make us clean our teeth, wash,
and wait for breakfast. Then we shall most certainly be late."
Having dashed across the courtyard, they darted into the main entrance
of the flats, up on to the fifth floor, stopping at last in front of the
door, where the bell did not work and callers were instructed to knock.
Karik knocked - no one answered. He pushed the door - it opened.
The children went into the semi-darkness of a hall. On the wall a large
mirror glittered. Immediately opposite the children, a bronze idol gazed out
of a glass case. The Professor had brought it from China, where some of the
Chinamen actually pray to these hideous dummies. In the Professor's
household it served as a doorkeeper. And a most excellent doorkeeper it was
and never grumbled "shut the door after you."
In all other respects, it was very like one of the living doorkeepers,
and like them could watch the door silently all day.
On the hall-stand there hung the Professor's heavy winter fur coat, his
overcoat and some sort of a raincoat with big checks like a chess board.
All was silent in the flat; except that the tick-tock of a clock
sounded a measured beat in the dining room, and in the kitchen, water was
dripping musically from the tap.
"We'll go in," said Karik. "The Professor is certain to be in his
study."
But in the study there was no Professor. The children decided to wait.
The windows of the study were wide open. The sun lit up the white
table, covered with curving jars, vessels and retorts. Fine glass tubing
stood up like flowers in the glass vessels. Nickel-plated cups gave blinding
reflections of the sun. The brass of the microscope sparkled cheerfully, and
on the ceiling the sunbeams frolicked.
Along the wall, there was fixed a glass case full of books - thick
books and thin books. The titles were hard to understand:
The Ecology of Animals, Hydrobiology, Chironomidae, Ascaridae. They
were the sort of books children do not touch.
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