Jacek
December 25th 07, 05:51 PM
'
'What is it like?'
'Black, very shabby. With two straps.'
'Black, two straps, very shabby -- good. One day in the fairly near
future -- I cannot give a date -- one of the messages among your morning's
work will contain a misprinted word, and you will have to ask for a repeat.
On the following day you will go to work without your brief-case. At some
time during the day, in the street, a man will touch you on the arm and say
"I think you have dropped your brief-case." The one he gives you will
contain a copy of Goldstein's book. You will return it within fourteen
days.'
They were silent for a moment.
'There are a couple of minutes before you need go,' said O'Brien. 'We
shall meet again -- if we do meet again--'
Winston looked up at him. 'In the place where there is no darkness?'
he said hesitantly.
O'Brien nodded without appearance of surprise. 'In the place where
there is no darkness,' he said, as though he had recognized the allusion.
'And in the meantime, is there anything that you wish to say before you
leave? Any message? Any question?.'
Winston thought. There did not seem to be any further question that he
wanted to ask: still less did he feel any impulse to utter high-sounding
generalities. Instead of anything directly connected with O'Brien or the
Brotherhood, there came into his mind a sort of composite picture of the
dark bedroom where his mother had spent her last days, and the little room
over Mr. Charrington's shop, and the glass paperweight, and the steel
engraving in its rosewood frame. Almost at random he said:
'Did you ever happen to hear an old rhyme that begins "'Oranges and
lemons,' say the bells of St Clem
'What is it like?'
'Black, very shabby. With two straps.'
'Black, two straps, very shabby -- good. One day in the fairly near
future -- I cannot give a date -- one of the messages among your morning's
work will contain a misprinted word, and you will have to ask for a repeat.
On the following day you will go to work without your brief-case. At some
time during the day, in the street, a man will touch you on the arm and say
"I think you have dropped your brief-case." The one he gives you will
contain a copy of Goldstein's book. You will return it within fourteen
days.'
They were silent for a moment.
'There are a couple of minutes before you need go,' said O'Brien. 'We
shall meet again -- if we do meet again--'
Winston looked up at him. 'In the place where there is no darkness?'
he said hesitantly.
O'Brien nodded without appearance of surprise. 'In the place where
there is no darkness,' he said, as though he had recognized the allusion.
'And in the meantime, is there anything that you wish to say before you
leave? Any message? Any question?.'
Winston thought. There did not seem to be any further question that he
wanted to ask: still less did he feel any impulse to utter high-sounding
generalities. Instead of anything directly connected with O'Brien or the
Brotherhood, there came into his mind a sort of composite picture of the
dark bedroom where his mother had spent her last days, and the little room
over Mr. Charrington's shop, and the glass paperweight, and the steel
engraving in its rosewood frame. Almost at random he said:
'Did you ever happen to hear an old rhyme that begins "'Oranges and
lemons,' say the bells of St Clem