"Walter M. Miller - The Lost Masters - Volume 01" - читать интересную книгу автора (Miller Walter M)

тАЬHmmm-hnnn! YouтАЩll. need a strange shape of a rock to fit that gap,тАЭ he said, and rattled his staff
back and forth in a vacant space in the highest tier of stones.
The youth nodded and looked away. He continued to sit in the sand, and, by silence and by his
lowered gaze, he hoped to tell the old man that he was neither free to converse nor free to accept
willingly anotherтАЩs presence in his place of Lenten solitude. The novice began writing with a dry twig in
the sand: Et ne nos inducas in...
тАЬIтАЩve not offered to change these stones into bread for you yet, have I?тАЭ the old traveler said
crossly.
Brother Francis glanced up quickly. So! the old man could read, and read Scripture, at that.
Furthermore, his remark implied that he had understood both the noviceтАЩs impulsive use of holy water
and his reason for being here as well. Aware now that the pilgrim was teasing him, Brother Francis
lowered his eyes again and waited.
тАЬHmmm-hnnn! So youтАЩre to be left alone, are you? Well, then, IтАЩd best be on my way. Tell me, will
your brothers at the abbey let an old man rest a bit in their shade?тАЭ
Brother Francis nodded. тАЬTheyтАЩll give you food and water too,тАЭ he added softly, in charity.
The pilgrim chuckled. тАЬFor that, IтАЩll find you a rock to fit that gap before I go. God with you.тАЭ
But you need notтАУThe protest died unspoken. Brother Francis watched him hobbling slowly away.
The pilgrim wandered in and about among the rubble mounds. He paused occasionally to inspect a stone
or pry at one with his staff. His search would surely prove fruitless, the novice thought, for it was a
repetition of a search which the youth himself had been making since mid-morning. He had decided at
last that it would be easier to remove and rebuild a section of the highest tier than to find a keystone that
approximated the hourglass shape of the gap in that tier. But, surely, the pilgrim would soon exhaust his
patience and wander on his way.
Meanwhile, Brother Francis rested. He prayed for the recovery of that inward privacy which the
purpose of his vigil demanded that he seek: a clean parchment of the spirit whereon the words of a
summons might be written in his solitudeтАУif that other Immensurable Loneliness which was God stretched
forth Its hand to touch his own tiny human loneliness and to mark his vocation there. The Little Book,
which Prior Cheroki had left with him on the preceding Sunday, served as a guide to his meditation. It
was centuries old, and it was called Libellus Leibowitz, although only an uncertain tradition attributed its
authorship to the Beatus himself.
тАЬParum equidem te diligebam, Domine, juventute mea; quare doleo nimis . . . Too little, O
Lord, did I love Thee in the time of my youth; wherefore I grieve exceedingly in the time of my age. In
vain did I flee from Thee in those days...тАЭ
тАЬHoy! Over here!тАЭ came a shout from beyond the rubble mounds.
Brother Francis glanced up briefly, but the pilgrim was not in sight. His eyes fell again to the page.
тАЬRepugnans tibi, ausus sum quaerere quid, quid doctius mihi fide, certius spe, aut dulcius
caritate visum esset. Quis itaque stultior me...тАЭ
тАЬHey boy!тАЭ the cry came again. тАЬI found you a stone, one likely to fit.тАЭ
This time when Brother Francis looked up, he caught a glimpse of the pilgrimтАЩs staff waving signals
to him beyond the top of a rubble heap. Sighing the novice returned to his reading.
тАЬO inscrutabilis Scrutater animarum, cui patet omne cor, si me vocaveras, olim a te
fugeram. Si autem nunc velis vocare me indignum . . .тАЭ
And, irritably from beyond the rubble mound: тАЬAll right, then, suit yourself. IтАЩll mark the rock and
set a stake by it. Try it or not, as you please.тАЭ
тАЬThank you,тАЭ the novice sighed, but doubted that the old man heard him. He toiled on with the text:
тАЬLibera me, Domine, ab vitiis meis, ut solius tuae voluntatis mihi cupidus sim, et vocationis .
. .тАЭ
тАЬThere, then!тАЭ the pilgrim shouted. тАЬItтАЩs staked and marked. And may you find your voice soon,
boy. Olla allay!тАЭ
Soon after the last shout faded and died, Brother Francis caught a glimpse of the pilgrim trudging