"Smith, Clark Ashton - Tales of Averoigne" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Clark Ashton)

TALES OF
AVEROIGNE

BY
CLARK ASHTON SMITH

Contents

THE END OF THE STORY 1
THE SATYR 17
VARIANT CONCLUSION TO "THE SATYR" 22
A RENDEZVOUS IN AVEROIGNE 24
THE MAKER OF GARGOYLES 37
THE HOLINESS OF AZ╔DARAC 49
THE COLOSSUS OF YLOURGNE 68
THE MANDRAKES 101
THE BEAST OF AVEROIGNE 107
THE DISINTERMENT OF VENUS 116
MOTHER OF TOADS 123
THE ENCHANTRESS OF SYLAIRE 130
THE ORACLE OF SADOQUA 143
THE DOOM OF AZEDERAC 145. _

The End of the Story
THE FOLLOWING NARRATIVE was found among the papers of
Christophe Morand, a young law-student of Tours, after his
unaccountable disappearance during a visit at his father's home near
Moulins, in November, 1798:
A sinister brownish-purple autumn twilight, made premature by the
imminence of a sudden thunderstorm, had filled the forest of
Averoigne. The trees along my road were already blurred to ebon
masses, and the road itself, pale and spectral before me in the
thickening gloom, seemed to waver and quiver slightly, as with the
tremor of some mysterious earthquake. I spurred my horse, who was
woefully tired with a journey begun at dawn, and had fallen hours ago
to a protesting and reluctant trot, and we galloped adown the darkening
road between enormous oaks that seemed to lean toward us with
boughs like clutching fingers as we passed.
With dreadful rapidity, the night was upon us, the blackness
became a tangible clinging veil; a nightrnare confusion and desperation
drove me to spur my mount again with a more cruel rigor; and now, as
we went, the first far-off mutter of the storm mingled with the clatter of
my horse's hoofs, and the first lightning flashes illumed our way, which,
to my amazement (since I believed myself on the main highway
through Averoigne), had inexplicably narrowed to a well-trodden
footpath. Feeling sure that I had gone astray, but not caring to retrace
my steps in the teeth of darkness and the towering clouds of the
tempest, I hurried on, hoping, as seemed reasonable, that a path so
plainly worn would lead eventually to some house or chateau. where I
could find refuge for the night. My hope was wellfounded, for within a