srdonaldson.theillearthwar-第123部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


isturbed　his　equilibrium；　but　he　ignored　it　as　best　he　could。　He　began　to　move　through　the　house　like　a　blind　man；　working　his　way　from　support　to　support…sofa　to　doorframe　to　kitchen　counter。　Then　he　had　to　take　several　unbraced　steps　to　reach　the　bathroom；　but　he　managed　to　cross　the　distance　without　falling。
　He　propped　himself　on　the　sink；　and　rested　again。
　When　he　had　caught　his　breath；　he　automatically　ran　water　and　lathered　his　hands…the　first　step　in　his　rite　of　cleansing；　a　vital　part　of　his　defense　against　a　relapse。　For　a　time；　he　scrubbed　his　hands　without
　raising　his　head。　But　at　last　he　looked　into　the　mirror。　The　sight　of　his　own　visage　stopped　him。　He　gazed　at　himself　out　of　raw；　self…inflicted　eyes；　and　recognized　the　face　that　Elena　had　sculpted。　She　had　not　placed　a　wound　on　the　forehead　of　her　carving；　but　his　cut　only　pleted　the　image　she　had　formed　of　him。　He　could　see　a　gleam　of　bone　through　the　caked　black　blood　which　darkened　his　forehead　and　cheeks；　spread　down　around　his　eyes；　emphasizing　them；　shadowing　them　with　terrible　purposes。　The　wound　and　the　blood　on　his　gray；　gaunt　face　made　him　look　like　a　false　prophet；　a　traitor　to　his　own　best　dreams。
　Elena！　he　cried　thickly。　What　have　I　done？
　Unable　to　bear　the　sight　of　himself；　he　turned　away　and　glanced　numbly　around　the　bathroom。　In　the　fluorescent　lighting；　the　porcelain　of　the　tub　and　the　chromed　metal　of　its　dangerous　fixtures　glinted　as　if　they　had　nothing　whatever　to　do　with　weeping。　Their　blank　superficiality　seemed　to　insist　that　grief　and　loss　were　unreal；　irrelevant。
　He　stared　at　them　for　a　long　time；　measuring　their　blankness。　Then　he　limped　out　of　the　bathroom。　Grimly；　deliberately；　he　left　his　forehead　uncleaned；　untouched。　He　did　not　choose　to　repudiate　the　accusation　written　there。
　
　
　
　
　
　1