"Лорд Дансени. The Gods of the Mountain (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

Slag:
O my wise master!

{Illanaun takes the goblet. All the beggars stretch
out their hands including Agmar. Illanaun gives it to
Agmar. Agmar takes it solemnly, and very carefully
pours it out on the ground.}

First beggar:
He has spilt it.

Second beggar:
He has spilt it. {Agmar sniffs the fumes, loquitur}

Agmar:
It is a fitting libation. Our anger is somewhat
appeased.

Another beggar:
But it was Woldery!

Akmos: {kneeling to Agmar}
Master, I am childless, and I --

Agmar:
Trouble us not now. It is the hour at which the gods
are accustomed to speak to the gods in the language of
the gods, and if Man heard us he would guess the
futility of his destiny, which were not well for Man.
Begone! Begone!

One lingers {loquitur}
Master --

Agmar:
Begone!

{Exeunt. Agmar takes up a piece of meat and begins to
eat it; the beggars rise and stretch themselves; they
laugh, but Agmar eats hungrily.}

Oogno:
Ah! Now we have come into our own.

Thahn:
Now we have alms.

Slag:
Master! My wise master!