-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Фрэнк Герберт
-
- Дюна
-
- Стр. 73/972
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
The
Duke
was
tall
,
olive
-
skinned
.
His
thin
face
held
harsh
angles
warmed
only
by
deep
gray
eyes
.
He
wore
a
black
working
uniform
with
red
armorial
hawk
crest
at
the
breast
.
A
silvered
shield
belt
with
the
patina
of
much
use
girded
his
narrow
waist
.
The
Duke
said
:
“
Hard
at
work
,
Son
?
”
He
crossed
to
the
ell
table
,
glanced
at
the
papers
on
it
,
swept
his
gaze
around
the
room
and
back
to
Paul
.
He
felt
tired
,
filled
with
the
ache
of
not
showing
his
fatigue
.
I
must
use
every
opportunity
to
rest
during
the
crossing
to
Arrakis
,
he
thought
.
There
’
ll
be
no
rest
on
Arrakis
.
“
Not
very
hard
,
”
Paul
said
.
“
Everything
’
s
so
.
.
.
.
”
He
shrugged
.
“
Yes
.
Well
,
tomorrow
we
leave
.
It
’
ll
be
good
to
get
settled
in
our
new
home
,
put
all
this
upset
behind
.
”
Paul
nodded
,
suddenly
overcome
by
memory
of
the
Reverend
Mother
’
s
words
:
“
.
.
.
for
the
father
,
nothing
.
”
“
Father
,
”
Paul
said
,
“
will
Arrakis
be
as
dangerous
as
everyone
says
?
”
The
Duke
forced
himself
to
the
casual
gesture
,
sat
down
on
a
corner
of
the
table
,
smiled
.
A
whole
pattern
of
conversation
welled
up
in
his
mind
—
the
kind
of
thing
he
might
use
to
dispel
the
vapors
in
his
men
before
a
battle
.
The
pattern
froze
before
it
could
be
vocalized
,
confronted
by
the
single
thought
:
This
is
my
son
.
“
It
’
ll
be
dangerous
,
”
he
admitted
.
