I know one, - have angrily told Bulls, - that you do not have absolutely any chances, and all this invention is mad.
They have again become silent, and Jurkovsky undertook the report. It had very sad and very old person. JUre it it is
intolerable it became a pity, but he did not know how to help. He has looked at Zhilin. Zhilin with concentration thought. JUra
has looked at Bykova. Bulls pretended that reads magazine. On all it was visible that too it is very a pity to it Jurkovsky.
Zhilin has suddenly told: - Alexey Petrovich and why you consider, what if chances are small, and to hope there is nothing?
Bulls were lowered by magazine.
And you think differently? - The World is great, - Zhilin has told. - I very much liked Vladimir Sergeevicha's words: "That we
know about probabilities?" - well and that we do not know about probabilities? - Has asked Bulls.
Jurkovsky, without lifting eyes from the report, has pricked up the ears.
I have recollected one person, - Zhilin has told. - it had very curious destiny... - Zhilin in indecision has stopped. - Perhaps I
disturb to you, Vladimir Sergeevich? - Tell, - has demanded Jurkovsky and has resolutely slammed the report.
It will occupy some time, - Zhilin has warned.
The better, - has told Jurkovsky. - Tell.
And Zhilin has started to tell.
The STORY About HUGE FLUCTUATION I was then still absolutely the boy both much then has not understood also much
has forgotten, there can be the most interesting. There was a night, and I and have not made out the person of this person.
And the voice at it was the most ordinary, a little bit sad and hoarse, and it occasionally coughed, as if from confusion. In a
word, if I see it once again somewhere in the street or, say, on a visit, I most likely do not learn it.
There were we on a beach. I have just bathed and sat on a stone.
Then I have heard, as the pebble behind fell down is it went down from an embankment, - has begun to smell a tobacco
smoke, and it has stopped near to me. As I have already told, business was at night. The sky has been covered by clouds,
and on the sea the storm began. Along a beach of barrels a strong warm wind. The stranger smoked. The wind cut at it from
a cigarette long orange sparks which rushed and vanished over a deserted beach. It was very beautiful, and I well remember
it. To me was only sixteen years, and I did not think at all that he will start talking to me. But he has started talking. It has
begun very strange.