- All right, - with disappointment Billendon has told, - enter that in doors
To stick out!
- I humble thank!
With these words at a workshop door it is prompt zashmygnul Mr. Ausel,
But, my God, in what kind! Who from acquaintances could identify it?
Red-eyed, torn off, lean, it would not be useful even for a role of the
Yards has risen towards, Mr. Ausel has not awarded the boy with a sight.
- My greetings local laram! - he has proclaimed, having stared at fireplace chimeras
And, should be, quoting any classic. - about execution of my soul! - provyl
It, uvidav itself in a mirror. - Ischadie, have gone right! - last words concerned
To the Young of wild animal driven to his feet. Mr. Ausel has tried to banish it
- Be not afraid, - has told Yards, - will not bite!
- Phantoms... - Mr. Ausel has thoughtfully murmured on it. - Stop,
Illusion! - he has addressed to the Yard.
Metal sherstka the Young of wild animal has risen on end, from pads were put forward
Brushes-whisks, ryltse with whistle has pulled air, returning to clothes of Mr.
Auselja the forgotten cleanliness. Even ashes pungent smell, for some reason from it
Proceeding, has considerably begun to decline.
- The noblest phantom, I do not stand your attention, - touched