1984 - Planet eBook

almost at the level of their faces. Perhaps it had not seenthem. It was in the sun, they in the shade. It spread out itswings, fitted them carefully into place again, ducked itshead for a moment, as though making a sort of obeisance tothe sun, and then began to pour forth a torrent of song. Inthe afternoon hush the volume of sound was startling. Winstonand Julia clung together, fascinated. The music went onand on, minute after minute, with astonishing variations,never once repeating itself, almost as though the bird weredeliberately showing off its virtuosity. Sometimes it stoppedfor a few seconds, spread out and resettled its wings, thenswelled its speckled breast and again burst into song. Winstonwatched it with a sort of vague reverence. For whom, forwhat, was that bird singing? No mate, no rival was watchingit. What made it sit at the edge of the lonely wood andpour its music into nothingness? He wondered whether afterall there was a microphone hidden somewhere near. Heand Julia had spoken only in low whispers, and it would notpick up what they had said, but it would pick up the thrush.Perhaps at the other end of the instrument some small, beetle-likeman was listening intently—listening to that. Butby degrees the flood of music drove all speculations out ofhis mind. It was as though it were a kind of liquid stuff thatpoured all over him and got mixed up with the sunlightthat filtered through the leaves. He stopped thinking andmerely felt. The girl’s waist in the bend of his arm was softand warm. He pulled her round so that they were breastto breast; her body seemed to melt into his. Wherever hishands moved it was all as yielding as water. Their mouths