Скорбь сатаны

Chapter 17

           Shelookedup,straightlyandunflinchinglyfullintomyeyes.

           "Icannottellyouthat,"—shesaid—"IhavetoldyouIdonotbelieveinlove;andifyouwerepoorIcertainlyshouldnotmarryyou.Itwouldbenouse!"

           "Youarefrank,Sibyl!"

           "Itisbesttobefrank,isitnot?"andshedrewaflowerfromtheknotatherbosom,andbeganfasteningitinmycoat—"Geoffreywhatisthegoodofpretence?Youwouldhatetobepoor,andsoshouldI.Idonotunderstandtheverb‘tolove,’—nowandthenwhenIreadabookbyMavisClare,Ibelievelovemayexist,butwhenIclosethebookmybeliefisshutupwithit.Sodonotaskforwhatisnotinme.Iamwilling—evengladtomarryyou;thatisallyoumustexpect."

           "All!"Iexclaimed,withasuddenminglingofloveandwrathinmyblood,asIclosedmyarmsaboutherandkissedherpassionately—"All!—youimpassiveice-flower,itisnotall!—youshallmelttomytouchandlearnwhatloveis—donotthinkyoucanescapeitsinfluence,youdear,foolish,beautifulchild!Yourpassionsareasleep—theymustwake!"

           "Foryou?"shequeried,restingherheadbackagainstmyshoulder,andgazingupatmewithadreamyradianceinherlovelyeyes.

           "Forme!"

           Shelaughed.

           "‘Ohbidmelove,andIwilllove!’"—shehummedsoftlyunderherbreath.

           "Youwill,youmust,youshall!"Isaidardently

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