"Bierce, Ambrose - An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bierce Ambrose)

received with formal manifestations of respect, even by those
most familiar with him. In the code of military etiquette
silence and fixity are forms of deference.
The man who was engaged in being hanged was apparently about
thirty-five years of age. He was a civilian, if one might
judge from his habit, which was that of a planter. His
features were good -- a straight nose, firm mouth, broad
forehead, from which his long, dark hair was combed straight
back, falling behind his ears to the collar of his well
fitting frock coat. He wore a moustache and pointed beard,
but no whiskers; his eyes were large and dark gray, and had a
kindly expression which one would hardly have expected in one
whose neck was in the hemp. Evidently this was no vulgar
assassin. The liberal military code makes provision for
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Bierce, Ambrose - An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge
hanging many kinds of persons, and gentlemen are not
excluded.
The preparations being complete, the two private soldiers
stepped aside and each drew away the plank upon which he had
been standing. The sergeant turned to the captain, saluted
and placed himself immediately behind that officer, who in
turn moved apart one pace. These movements left the
condemned man and the sergeant standing on the two ends of
the same plank, which spanned three of the cross-ties of the
bridge. The end upon which the civilian stood almost, but
not quite, reached a fourth. This plank had been held in
place by the weight of the captain; it was now held by that
of the sergeant. At a signal from the former the latter
would step aside, the plank would tilt and the condemned man
go down between two ties. The arrangement commended itself
to his judgement as simple and effective. His face had not
been covered nor his eyes bandaged. He looked a moment at
his "unsteadfast footing," then let his gaze wander to the
swirling water of the stream racing madly beneath his feet.
A piece of dancing driftwood caught his attention and his
eyes followed it down the current. How slowly it appeared
to move! What a sluggish stream!
He closed his eyes in order to fix his last thoughts upon his
wife and children. The water, touched to gold by the early
sun, the brooding mists under the banks at some distance down
the stream, the fort, the soldiers, the piece of drift -- all
had distracted him. And now he became conscious of a new
disturbance. Striking through the thought of his dear
ones was sound which he could neither ignore nor understand,
a sharp, distinct, metallic percussion like the stroke of a
blacksmith's hammer upon the anvil; it had the same ringing
quality. He wondered what it was, and whether immeasurably
distant or near by -- it seemed both. Its recurrence was
regular, but as slow as the tolling of a death knell. He