Eagle in the Sky - Smith Wilbur (бесплатные версии книг .txt) 📗

purposes blind and will remain that way.

However, there is another side to the question.  It is possible that the

optic nerve has suffered little damage, or none at all, please God Then

why is she blind?  David asked angrily.  He felt baited, driven by

words, goaded like the bull from so long ago.  You can't have it both

ways.  Ruby looked at him, and for the first time saw beyond that blank

mask of scarred flesh and realized the pain he was inflicting, saw the

hurt in the dark eyes, blue as rifle steel.

Forgive me, David.  I have been carried away by the intriguing facts of

this case, seeing it from my own academic point of view rather than

yours, I'm afraid.  I will come to it now without further hedging.  He

leaned back in his chair and went on speaking.  You recall the notch in

the outline of the chiasma.  Well, I believe that is the nerve itself,

twisted out of position, kinked and pinched like a garden hose by bone

fragments and the pressure of the metal fragment so that it is no longer

capable of carrying impulses to the brain.  'The blows on her temple -?

'David asked.

Yes.  Those blows may have been just sufficient to alter the position of

the bone fragments, or of the nerve itself, so as to enable the passage

of a minimal amount of impulse to the brain, like the garden hose,

movement could allow a little water to pass through but still hold back

any significant flow, but once the twist is straightened the full volume

of flow would be regained.  They were all silent then, each of them

considering the enormity of what they had heard.

The eyes, the Brig said at last.  They are healthy?  Perfectly, Ruby

nodded.

How could you find out, I mean, what steps would you take next?  David

asked quietly.

There is only one way.  We would have to go to the site of the trauma.

Operate?  David asked again.

Yes.

Open Debra's skull?  The horror of it showed only in his eyes.

Yes, Ruby nodded.

Her head, David's own flesh quailed in memory of the ruthless knife.  He

saw the lovely face mutilated and the pain in those blind eyes.  Her

face - His voice shook now.  No, I won't let you cut her.  I won't let

you ruin her, like they have me David!  The Brig's voice cracked like

breaking ice, and David sank back in his chair.

I understand how you feel, Ruby spoke gently, his voice in contrast to

the Brig's.  But we will go in from behind the hairline, there will be

no disfigurement.  The scar will be covered by her hair when it grows

out, and the incision will not be very large anyway - I won't have her

suffer more.  David was trying to control his voice, but the catch and

break were still in it.  She has suffered enough, can't you see that, We

are talking about giving her back her sight the Brig broke in again. His

voice was hard and cold.  A little pain is a small price to pay for

that.

There will be very little pain, David.  Less than an appendectomy. Again

they were silent, the two older men watching the younger in the agony of

his decision.

What are the chances?  David looked for help, wanting the decision made

for him, wanting it taken out of his hands.

That is impossible to say.  Ruby shook his head.

Oh God, how can I judge if I don't know the odds?  David cried out.

All right.  Let me put it this way, there is a possibility, not

probability, that she may regain a useful part of her sight.  Ruby chose

his words with care.  And there is a remote possibility that she may

regain full vision or almost full vision.  That is the best that can

happen.  David agreed.  But what is the worst?  The worst that can

happen is there will be no change.

She will have undergone a deal of discomfort and pain to no avail. David

jumped out of his chair and crossed to the windows.

He stared out at the great sweep of bay where the tankers lay moored and

the far hills of the Tygerberg rose smoky blue to the brilliant sky.

You know what the choice must be, David.  The Brig was ruthless,

allowing him no quarter, driving him on to meet his fate.

All right, David surrendered at last, and turned back to face them.  But

on one condition.  One on which I insist.  Debra must not be told that

there is a chance of her regaining her sight, Ruby Friedman shook his

head.  She must be told The Brig's mustache bristled fiercely.  Why not?

Why don't you want her to know?

You know why.  David answered without looking at him.

How will you get her there, if you don't explain it to her?  Ruby asked.

She has been having headaches, we'll tell her there is a growth, that

you've discovered a growth, that it has to be removed.  That's true,

isn't it?  No.  Ruby shook his head.

I couldn't tell her that.  I can't deceive her.  Then I will tell her,

said David, his voice firm and steady now.  And I will tell her when we

discover the result after the operation.  Good or bad.  I will be the

one who tells her, is that understood?  Do we agree on that?  And after

a moment the two others nodded and murmured their agreement to the terms

David had set.

David had the hotel chef prepare a picnic basket, and the service bar

provided a cool bag with two bottles of champagne.

David craved for the feeling of height and space, but he needed also to

be able to concentrate all his attention on Debra, so he reluctantly

rejected the impulse to fly with her, and instead they took the cableway

up the precipitous cliffs of Table Mountain, and from the top station

they found a path along the plateau and followed it, hand in hand, to a

lonely place upon the cliff's edge where they could sit together high

above the city and the measureless spread of ocean.

The sounds of the city came up two thousand feet to them, tiny and

disjointed, on freak gusts of the wind or bouncing from the soaring

canyons of grey rock, the horn of an automobile, the clang of a

locomotive shunting in the train yards, the cry of a muezzin calling the

faithful of Islam to pray, and the distant shrilling of children

released from the classroom, yet all these faint echoes of humanity

seemed to enhance their aloneness and the breeze out of the south east

was sweet and clean after the filthy city air.

They drank the wine together, sitting close while David gathered his

resolve.  He was about to speak when Debra forestalled him.

It's good to be alive and in love, my darling, she said.  We are very

lucky, you and I.  Do you know that, David?  He made a sound in his

throat that could have been

agreement, and his courage failed him.

If you could, would you change anything?  he asked at last, and she

laughed.

Oh, sure.  One is never absolutely content until and unless one is dead.

I'd change many small things, but not the one big thing.  You and""What

would you change?  I would like to write better than I do, for one

thing.  They were silent again, sipping the wine.

Sun is going down fast now, he told her.

Tell me, she demanded, and he tried to find words for the colours, that

flickered over the cloud banks and the way the ocean shimmered and

dazzled with the last rays of gold and blood, and he knew he could never

tell it to her.  He stopped in the middle of a sentence.

I saw Ruby Friedman today, he said abruptly, unable to find a gentler

approach, and she went still beside him in that special way of hers,

frozen like a timid wild thing at the scent of some fearful predator.