Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

XIV

           “Idontknow,ofcourse;butpeoplesayit’sowingtotheAmericans.Certainlymywaiterhadawayofslappingdownthedishes...theytellmethatmanyofthemareAnarchists...belongtoUnions,youknow.”SheappealedtoDarrow’sreportedknowledgeofeconomicconditionstoconfirmthisominousrumour.

           AfterdinnerOwenLeathwanderedintothenextroom,wherethepianostood,andbegantoplayamongtheshadows.Hisstep-motherpresentlyjoinedhim,andDarrowsatalonewithMadamedeChantelle.

           Shetookupthethreadofhermildchatandcarrieditonatthesamepaceasherknitting.Herconversationresembledthelargeloose-strandedwebbetweenherfingers:nowandthenshedroppedastitch,andwentonregardlessofthegapinthepattern.

           Darrowlistenedwithalazysenseofwell-being.Inthementallulloftheafter-dinnerhour,withharmoniousmemoriesmurmuringthroughhismind,andthesofttintsandshadowyspacesofthefineoldroomcharminghiseyestoindolence,MadamedeChantelle’sdiscourseseemednotoutofplace.Hecouldunderstandthat,inthelongrun,theatmosphereofGivremightbesuffocating;butinhispresentmooditsverylimitationshadagrace.

           Presentlyhefoundthechancetosayawordinhisownbehalf;andthereuponmeasuredtheadvantage,neverbeforeparticularlyapparenttohim,ofbeingrelatedtotheEverardsofAlbany.MadamedeChantelle’sconceptionofhernativecountry—towhichshehadnotreturnedsincehertwentiethyear—remindedhimofanancientgeographer’smapoftheHyperboreanregions.

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