"Wells, H G - In The Days Of The Comet" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wells H G)

with a steady hand. . . .

I discovered that a concave speculum hung slantingly high over his
head; a movement in this caught my attention sharply, and I looked
up to see, distorted and made fantastic but bright and beautifully
coloured, the magnified, reflected, evasive rendering of a palace,
of a terrace, of the vista of a great roadway with many people,
people exaggerated, impossible-looking because of the curvature
of the mirror, going to and fro. I turned my head quickly that I
might see more clearly through the window behind me, but it was
too high for me to survey this nearer scene directly, and after a
momentary pause I came back to that distorting mirror again.

But now the writer was leaning back in his chair. He put down his
pen and sighed the half-resentful sigh -- "ah! you work, you! how
you gratify and tire me!" -- of a man who has been writing to his
satisfaction.

"What is this place?" I asked, "and who are you?"

He looked around with the quick movement of surprise.

"What is this place?" I repeated, "and where am I?"

He regarded me steadfastly for a moment under his wrinkled
brows, and then his expression softened to a smile. He pointed to a
chair beside the table. "I am writing," he said.

"About this?"

"About the Change."

I sat down. It was a very comfortable chair, and well placed under
the light.

"If you would like to read -- " he said.

I indicated the manuscript. "This explains?" I asked.

"That explains," he answered.

He drew a fresh sheet of paper towards him as he looked at me.

I glanced from him about his apartment and back to the little table.
A fascicle marked very distinctly "I" caught my attention, and I
took it up. I smiled in his friendly eyes. "Very well," said I,
suddenly at my ease, and he nodded and went on writing. And in a
mood between confidence and curiosity, I began to read.

This is the story that happy, active-looking old man in the pleasant