"Ballard, J G - Cloud Scultors" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ballard J G)

a thousand feet in a few seconds. Here and there the clouds
were rimmed with dark bands, their towers crossed by valleys
'and ravines. They moved across the villa, concealed from the
lakeside heat by the haze overhead, then dissolved in a series
of violent shifts in the disordered air.
As I entered the drive behind a truck filled with son et
lumiere equipment, a dozen members of the staff were
straightening lines of gilt chairs on the terrace and unrolling
panels of a marquee.
Beatrice Lafferty stepped across the cables. "Major Parker
there are the clouds we promised you."
I looked up again at the dark billows hanging like shrouds
above the white villa. "Clouds, Beatrice? Those are tigers,
tigers with wings. We're manicurists of the air, not dragon-
tamers."
"Don't worry, a manicure is exactly what you're expected
to carry out." With an arch glance, she added: "Your men do
understand that there's to be only one subject?"
"Miss Chanel herself? Of course." I took her arm as we
walked towards ithe balcony overlooking the lake. "You
know, I think you enjoy these snide asides. Let the rich
choose their materialsmarble, bronze, plasma or cloud. Why
not? Portraiture has always been a neglected art."
"My God, not here." She waited until a steward passed
with a tray of table-cloths. "Carving one's portrait in the
sky out of the sun and airsome people might say that
smacked of vanity, or even worse sins."
"You're very mysterious. Such as?"
She played games with her eyes. "I'll tell you in a month's
time when my contract expires. Now, when are your men.
coming?"
"They're here." I pointed to the sky over the lake. The
three gliders hung in the overheated air, clumps of cloud-
cotton drifting past them to dissolve in the haze. They were
following a sand-yacht that approached the quay, its tyres
throwing up .the cerise dust. Behind the helmsman sat Leonora
Chanel in a trouser suit of yellow alligator skin, her white hair
hidden inside a black raffia toque.
As the helmsman moored the craft. Van Eyck and Petit
Manuel put on an impromptu performance, shaping the frag-
ments of cloud-cotton a hundred feet above the lake. First
Van Eyck carved an orchid, 'then a heart and a pair of
lips, while Manuel fashioned the head of a parakeet, two
identical mice and the letters "L.C." As they dived and
plunged around her, their wings sometimes touching the
lake, Leonora stood on the quay, politely waving at each of
these brief confections.
When they landed beside the quay, Leonora waited for
Nolan to take one of the clouds, but he was sailing up and
down the lake in front of her like a weary bird. Watching this