"E. C. Tubb - Dumarest 01 - The Winds of Gath" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tubb E. C)

the virtue of charity." Brother Benedict held out his symbolical
begging bowl. It was of cheap plastic, chipped, scarred, as rough
as his habit. "Of your charity, sir."

"Why?" The tourist was willing to be amused. "Why should I
throw away what I have?"

"Men are starving within sight. Is that not reason enough?"

It wasn't and he knew it but he had played this game so often
that he knew the expected responses by heart. His habit would
command a certain amused indulgence. His request would
stimulate jaded wits. His arguments were the prelude to
reluctant disbursal. The trick was in making the hearer want to
give. Therefore he must never be made to feel inferior, mean or
small.

"Men are cheap," pointed out the tourist. "Tell me, Brother, is
it just that the weak should live at the expense of the strong?"

"No, brother, it is not," agreed Benedict. His eyes were sharp
as they examined the man. Smooth, rosily fat, dressed in
luxurious fabrics. A glint of bright metal shone from a finger. A
ring, curiously engraved, flashed in the sun. Benedict recognized
the symbol. "You play, brother?"

"Gamble?" The tourist looked startled. Many had so looked
before Benedict's direct gaze. They didn't realize how they
betrayed themselves. "How did youтАФ? Yes, I gamble."

"And therefore you believe in luck." The monk nodded. "Life is
a lottery, my friend. We are bornтАФin circumstances over which
we have no control. Some inherit wealth, others poverty. Some
have the gift of intelligence and the power of command. Others
have nothing and die with what they were born. In the game of
life not all can win."

"True." The tourist looked thoughtful. His expression
deepened as Benedict continued.

"At the tables, when you win, do you not toss a chip to the
croupier? Do you not spend a little so as to assuage the lady you
worship? The Lady Luck."

"You know gamblers, Brother."

"Then, in this game of life in which you have been so
fortunate, why not toss a little to those who have nothing?"
Benedict extended his bowl. "To the losers, brother, to those who
are born to fail."