It sat. He looked. He wished to die, and knew that never will concern itself in that place that will never be bent half-and-half
that movements if they and are by all means will measured and smooth as its movements in that far time almost happy now...
Glory... No, prokljate Justice why it has not hit a head more strongly? The graze on a forehead has begun to live for a long
time, and does not remain even a scar. One thousand damnations of justice why he has not died?
The point on a wall has started to move. But, probably, it moved only in its imagination? Without wishing to recognise it to
see it better, more distinctly it has closed eyes. Here the point has moved aside, then - to it, having reserved a trace similar to
an aperture. Then it has made a circle... And it has opened eyes.
In a wall the big hole gaped. Such that through it quite there could pass the person. And an instant later in an aperture it
there was it. Second she looked at it silently, without a reproach and hatred, without pity and sympathy.
And has then made a step forward.
Chapter 32.
Grejs seemed same what it has remembered it from their last meeting. All the same quiet sight of grey eyes, the same white
hair combed on an equal hair parting, as if halving the person, the same nothing the remarkable figure dressed in a red
blouse, in a hard black corset. He has recollected, how thought that it - the Justice embodiment. But it - only it.
"Grejs", - one lips he has whispered and has stretched to it hands.
The illusive pleasure has shined his face. Now to it will not be so painfully, now it will be dissolved in its low voice, smooth
movements, in its confidence... Now he can forget about the act and this room for with it rest comes...
He expected that Grejs as once, will fall nearby on knees, will tenderly tell that all is good. But instead it, having thrown a
cursory glance on its hung figure hunched on a floor, has thrown to it clothes.
Put on, - having turned away, she has thrown words as scornfully, as clothes.