"Michael Swanwick - Girls and Boys, Come Out to Play" - читать интересную книгу автора (Swanwick Michael)

were furthermore so eager to grapple that it seemed a pity to disappoint them. Then, too, the night was
rapidly filling with the sighs and groans of human passionтАФno adult, apparently, was immune to the god's
influenceтАФand it seemed to Darger perverse that he alone in all the world should refuse to give in to
pleasure.

So, protesting insincerely, he allowed the women to crowd him back onto the bed, to remove his
clothing, and to have their wicked way with him. Nor was he backward with them. Having once set his
mind to a task, he labored at it with a will.

In a distant corner of his mind, he heard Surplus in the room down the hall raise his voice in an ecstatic
howl.

Darger slept late the next morning. When he went down to breakfast, Theodosia was all blushes and shy
smiles. She brought him a platter piled high with food, gave him a fleet peck on the cheek, and then fled
happily back into the kitchen.

Women never ceased to amaze Darger. One might make free of their bodies in the most intimate manner
possible, handling them not only lustfully but self-indulgently, and denying oneself not a single pleasureтАж
yet it only made them like you the better afterward. Darger was a staunch atheist. He did not believe in
the existence of a benevolent and loving God who manipulated the world in order to maximize the
happiness of His creations. Still, on a morning like this, he had to admit that all the evidence was against
him.

Through an open doorway, he saw the landlord make a playful grab at his fat wife's rump. She pushed
him away and, with a giggle, fled into the interior of the inn. The landlord followed.

Darger scowled. He gathered his hat and walking stick, and went outside. Surplus was waiting in the
garden. "Your thoughts trend the same way as mine?" Darger asked.

"Where else could they go?" Surplus asked grimly. "We must have a word with the Africans."

The monastery was less than a mile distant, but the stroll up and down dusty country roads gave them
both time enough to recover their savoirfaire. St. Vasilios, when they came to it, was dominated by a
translucent green bubble-roof, fresh-grown to render the ruins habitable. The grounds were surrounded
by an ancient stone wall. A wooden gate, latched but not locked, filled the lower half of a stone arch.
Above it was a bell.

They rang.

Several orange-robed men were in the yard, unloading crated laboratory equipment from a wagon. They
had the appearance and the formidable height of that handsomest of the world's peoples, the Masai. But
whether they were of Masai descent or had merely incorporated Masai features into their genes, Darger
could not say. The stocky, sweating wagoner looked like a gnome beside them. He cursed and tugged at
his horses' harness to keep the skittish beasts from bolting.

At the sound of the bell, one of the scientists separated himself from the others, and strode briskly to the
gate. "Yes?" he said in a dubious tone.

"We wish to speak with the god Pan," Darger said. "We are from the government."