"Werewolf" - читать интересную книгу автора (Housman Clarence)

that dreadful Thing that looked like a beautiful girl; watching her
every movement, curdling with horror to see her fondle the child
Rol.

Sweyn stood near them both, intent upon White Fell also; but how
differently! She seemed unconscious of the gaze of both neither
aware of the chill dread in the eyes of Christian, nor of Sweyn's
warm admiration.

These two brothers, who were twins, contrasted greatly, despite
their striking likeness. They were alike in regular profile, fair
brown hair, and deep blue eyes; but Sweyn's features were perfect
as a young god's, while Christian's showed faulty details. Thus, the
line of his mouth was set too straight, the eyes shelved too deeply
back, and the contour of the face flowed in less generous curves
than Sweyn's. Their height was the same, but Christian was too
slender for perfect proportion, while Sweyn's well-knit frame,
broad shoulders, and muscular arms, made him pre-eminent for
manly beauty as well as for strength. As a hunter Sweyn was
without rival; as a fisher without rival. All the countryside
acknowledged him to be the best wrestler, rider, dancer, singer.
Only in speed could he be surpassed, and in that only by his
younger brother. All others Sweyn could distance fairly; but
Christian could outrun him easily. Ay, he could keep pace with
Sweyn's most breathless burst, and laugh and talk the while.
Christian took little pride in his fleetness of foot, counting a man's
legs to be the least worthy of his members. He had no envy of his
brother's athletic superiority, though to several feats he had made a
moderate second. He loved as only a twin can love proud of all
that Sweyn did, content with all that Sweyn was; humbly content
also that his own great love should not be so exceedingly returned,
since he knew himself to be so far less love-worthy.

Christian dared not, in the midst of women and children, launch
the horror that he knew into words. He waited to consult his
brother; but Sweyn did not, or would not, notice the signal he
made, and kept his face always turned towards White Fell.
Christian drew away from the hearth, unable to remain passive
with that dread upon him.

'Where is Tyr?' he said suddenly. Then, catching sight of the dog in
a distant corner, 'Why is he chained there?'

'He flew at the stranger,' one answered.

Christian's eyes glowed. 'Yes?' he said, interrogatively.

'He was within an ace of having his brain knocked out.'

'Tyr?'