Лорд Джим

Chapter 20

           

           ‘Heshookhisheadslowly,andafterwardslookedatmewithapatientandinquiringglance.Itwasashame,hesaid.Thereweweresittingandtalkingliketwoboys,insteadofputtingourheadstogethertofindsomethingpractical—apracticalremedy—fortheevil—forthegreatevil—herepeated,withahumorousandindulgentsmile.Forallthat,ourtalkdidnotgrowmorepractical.WeavoidedpronouncingJim’snameasthoughwehadtriedtokeepfleshandbloodoutofourdiscussion,orhewerenothingbutanerringspirit,asufferingandnamelessshade.“Na!”saidStein,rising.“To-nightyousleephere,andinthemorningweshalldosomethingpractical—practical....”Helitatwo-branchedcandlestickandledtheway.Wepassedthroughemptydarkrooms,escortedbygleamsfromthelightsSteincarried.Theyglidedalongthewaxedfloors,sweepinghereandthereoverthepolishedsurfaceofatable,leapeduponafragmentarycurveofapieceoffurniture,orflashedperpendicularlyinandoutofdistantmirrors,whiletheformsoftwomenandtheflickeroftwoflamescouldbeseenforamomentstealingsilentlyacrossthedepthsofacrystallinevoid.Hewalkedslowlyapaceinadvancewithstoopingcourtesy;therewasaprofound,asitwerealistening,quietudeonhisface;thelongflaxenlocksmixedwithwhitethreadswerescatteredthinlyuponhisslightlybowedneck.

           ‘“Heisromantic—romantic,”herepeated.“Andthatisverybad—verybad....Verygood,too,”headded.

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