Нда... Мне почему-то сразу вспомнилось, как по этой истории проехался Терри Пратчетт в "Санта-Хрякусе":



AND I THINK I'VE GOT THE LAUGH WORKING REALLY WELL NOW. HO. HO. HO.

'Yeah, sir, very jolly,' said Albert. He looked down at the list. 'Still, work goes on, eh? The next one's pretty dose, master, so I should keep them down low if I was you.'

JOLLY GOOD. HO. HO. HO.

'Sarah the little match girl, doorway of Thimble's Pipe and Tobacco Shop, Money Trap Lane, it says here.'

AND WHAT DOES SHE WANT FOR HOGSWATCH? HO. HO. HO.

'Dunno. Never sent a letter. By the way, just a tip, you don't have to say "Ho, ho, ho, " all the time, master. Let's see ... It says here...' Albert's lips moved as he read.

I EXPECT A DOLL IS ALWAYS ACCEPTABLE. OR A SOFT TOY OF SOME DEsсriрtION. THE SACK SEEMS TO KNOW. WHAT'VE WE GOT FOR HER, ALBERT? HO. HO. HO.

Something small was dropped into his hand.

'This,' said Albert.

OH.

There was a moment of horrible silence as they both stared at the lifetimer.

'You're for life, not just for Hogswatch,' prompted Albert. 'Life goes on, master. In a manner of speaking.'

BUT THIS IS HOGSWATCHNIGHT.

'Very traditional time for this sort of thing, I understand,' said Albert.

I THOUGHT IT WAS THE SEASON TO BE JOLLY, said Death.

'Ah, well, yes, you see, one of the things that makes folks even more jolly is knowing there're people who ain't,' said Albert, in a matter-of-fact voice. 'That's how it goes, master. Master?'

No. Death stood Up. THIS IS HOW IT SHOULDN'T GO.



--------------



The sleigh slewed around at the end of Money Trap Lane.

COME ON, ALBERT.

'You know you're not supposed to do this sort of thing, master. You know what happened last time.

THE HOGFATHER CAN DO IT, THOUGH.

'But ... little match girls dying in the snow is part of what the Hogswatch spirit is all about master,' said Albert desperately. 'I mean, people hear about it and say, "We may be poorer than a disabled banana and only have mud and old boots to eat, but at least we're better off than the poor little match girl," master. It makes them feel happy and grateful for what they've got, see.

I KNOW WHAT THE SPIRIT OF HOGSWATCH IS, ALBERT.

'Sorry, master. But, look, it's all right, anyway, because she wakes up and it's all bright and shining and tinkling music and there's angels, master.' Death stopped.

AH. THEY TURN UP AT THE LAST MINUTE WITH WARM CLOTHES AND A HOT DRINK

Oh dear, thought Albert. The master's really in one of his funny moods now. 'Er. No. Not exactly at the last minute, master. Not as such.'

WELL?

'More sort of just after the last minute.' Albert coughed nervously.

YOU MEAN AFTER SHE'S--

'Yes. That's how the story goes, master, 's not my fault.'

WHY NOT TURN UP BEFORE? AN ANGEL HAS QUITE A LARGE CARRYING CAPACITY.

'Couldn't say, master. I suppose people think it's more ... satisfying the other way . . .' Albert hesitated, and then frowned. 'You know, now that I come to tell someone . . .

Death looked down at the shape under the falling snow. Then he set the lifetimer on the air and touched it with a finger. A spark flashed across.

'You ain't really allowed to do that,' said Albert, feeling wretched.

THE HOGFATHER CAN. THE HOGFATHER GIVES PRESENTS. THERE'S NO BETTER PRESENT THAN A FUTURE.

'Yeah, but---'

ALBERT.

'All right, master.'

Death scooped up the girl and strode to the end of the alley.

The snowflakes fen like angel's feathers. Death stepped out into the street and accosted two figures who were tramping through the drifts.

TAKE HER SOMEWHERE WARM AND GIVE HER A GOOD DINNER, he commanded, pushing the bundle into the arms of one of them. AND I MAY WELL BE CHECKING UP LATER.

Then he turned and disappeared into the swirling snow.

Constable Visit looked down at the little girl in his arms, and then at Corporal Nobbs.

'What's all this about, corporal?'

Nobby pulled aside the blanket.

'Search me,' he said. 'Looks like we've been chosen to do a bit of charity.'

'I don't call it very charitable, just dumping someone on people like this.'

'Come on, there'll still be some grub left in the Watchhouse,' said Nobby. He'd got a very deep and certain feeling that this was expected of him. He remembered a big man in a grotto, although he couldn't quite remember the face. And he couldn't quite remember the face of the person who had handed over the girl, so that meant it must be the same one.

Shortly afterwards there was some tinkling music and a very bright light and two rather affronted angels appeared at the other end of the alley, but Albert threw snowballs at them until they went away.

Мне вспомнилось, какое море слез вызывали сказки Андерсена в детстве... Особенно про ромашку. Он хуже Ведона!..