По эту сторону рая
Young Irony
"Listentothebeatofourhorses’hoofs—’tump-tump-tump-a-tump.’Haveyoueverbeenfeverishandhadallnoisesdivideinto’tump-tump-tump’untilyoucouldsweareternitywasdivisibleintosomanytumps?That’sthewayIfeel—oldhorsesgotump-tump....Iguessthat’stheonlythingthatseparateshorsesandclocksfromus.Humanbeingscan’tgo’tump-tump-tump’withoutgoingcrazy."
ThebreezefreshenedandEleanorpulledhercapearoundherandshivered.
"Areyouverycold?"askedAmory.
"No,I’mthinkingaboutmyself—myblackoldinsideself,therealone,withthefundamentalhonestythatkeepsmefrombeingabsolutelywickedbymakingmerealizemyownsins."
TheywereridingupclosebythecliffandAmorygazedover.Wherethefallmetthegroundahundredfeetbelow,ablackstreammadeasharpline,brokenbytinyglintsintheswiftwater.
"Rotten,rottenoldworld,"brokeoutEleanorsuddenly,"andthewretchedestthingofallisme—oh,whyamIagirl?WhyamInotastupid—?Lookatyou;you’restupiderthanIam,notmuch,butsome,andyoucanlopeaboutandgetboredandthenlopesomewhereelse,andyoucanplayaroundwithgirlswithoutbeinginvolvedinmeshesofsentiment,andyoucandoanythingandbejustified—andhereamIwiththebrainstodoeverything,yettiedtothesinkingshipoffuturematrimony.IfIwerebornahundredyearsfromnow,wellandgood,butnowwhat’sinstoreforme—Ihavetomarry,thatgoeswithoutsaying.
