"Dunsany, Lord - collection - Tales of Three Hemispheres" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dunsany Lord)

sound of the dromedaries of a prince when they come home at evening--their
silver bells are ringing and the village-folk are glad. She had come down to
pick the enchanted poppy that grew, and grows to this day--if only men might
find it--in a field at the feet of the mountains; if one should pick it
happiness would come to all yellow men, victory without fighting, good
wages, and ceaseless ease. She came down all fair from the mountains; and as
the legend pleasantly passed through his mind in the bitterest hour of the
night, which comes before dawn, two lights appeared and another hansom went
by.
The man in the second cab was dressed the same as the first, he was wetter
than the first, for the sleet had fallen all night, but evening dress is
evening dress all the world over. The driver wore the same oiled hat, the
same waterproof cape as the other. And when the cab had passed the darkness
swirled back where the two small lamps had been, and the slush poured into
the wheel-tracks and nothing remained but the speculations of the shepherd
to tell that a hansom cab had been in that part of China; presently even
these ceased, and he was back with the early legends again in contemplation
of serener things.
And the storm and the cold and the darkness made one last effort, and shook
the bones of that shepherd, and rattled the teeth in the head that mused on
the flowery fables, and suddenly it was morning. You saw the outlines of the
sheep all of a sudden, the shepherd counted them, no wolf had come, you
could see them all quite clearly. And in the pale light of the earliest
morning the third hansom appeared, with its lamps still burning, looking
ridiculous in the daylight. They came out of the East with the sleet and
were all going due westwards, and the occupant of the third cab also wore
evening dress.
Calmly that Manchu shepherd, without curiosity, still less with wonder, but
as one who would see whatever life has to show him, stood for four hours to
see if another would come. The sleet and the East wind continued. And at the
end of four hours another came. The driver was urging it on as fast as he
could, as though he were making the most of the daylight, his cabby's cape
was flapping wildly about him; inside the cab a man in evening dress was
being jolted up and down by the unevenness of the plain.
This was of course that famous race from Pittsburg to Piccadilly, going
round by the long way, that started one night after dinner from Mr.
Flagdrop's house, and was won by Mr. Kagg, driving the Honourable Alfred
Fortescue, whose father it will be remembered was Hagar Dermstein, and
became (by Letters Patent) Sir Edgar Fortescue, and finally Lord St. George.

The Manchu shepherd stood there till evening, and when he saw that no more
cabs would come, turned homeward in search of food.
And the rice prepared for him was hot and good, all the more after the
bitter coldness of that sleet. And when he had consumed it her perused his
experience, turning over again in his mind each detail of the cabs he had
seen; and from that his thoughts slipped calmly to the glorious history of
China, going back to the indecorous times before calmness came, and beyond
those times to the happy days of the earth when the gods and dragons were
here and China was young; and lighting his opium pipe and casting his
thoughts easily forward he looked to the time when the dragons shall come