Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

XV

           ButtheeffortoffixinghisattentiononOwen’swordswassogreatthatitleftnopowerformorethanthebriefestandmostinexpressivereplies.

           YoungLeath,itappeared,feltthathehadreachedaturning-pointinhiscareer,aheightfromwhichhecouldimpartiallysurveyhispastprogressandprojectedendeavour.Atonetimehehadhadmusicalandliteraryyearnings,visionsofdesultoryartisticindulgence;butthesehadoflatebeensupersededbytheresolutedeterminationtoplungeintopracticallife.

           “Idon’twant,yousee,”Darrowheardhimexplaining,“todriftintowhatmygrandmother,poordear,istryingtomakeofme:anadjunctofGivre.Idon’twant—hangitall!—toslipintocollectingsensationsasmyfathercollectedsnuff-boxes.IwantEffietohaveGivre—it’smygrandmother’s,youknow,todoasshelikeswith;andI’veunderstoodlatelythatifitbelongedtomeitwouldgraduallygobblemeup.Iwanttogetoutofit,intoalifethat’sbiganduglyandstruggling.IfIcanextractbeautyoutofthat,somuchthebetter:that’llprovemyvocation.ButIwanttomakebeauty,notbedrownedintheready-made,likeabeeinapotofhoney.”

           Darrowknewthathewasbeingappealedtoforcorroborationoftheseviewsandforencouragementinthecoursetowhichtheypointed.Tohisownearshisanswerssoundednowcurt,nowirrelevant:atonemomentheseemedchillinglyindifferent,atanotherheheardhimselflaunchingoutonafloodofhazydiscursiveness.HedarednotlookatOwen,forfearofdetectingthelad’ssurpriseatthesesenselesstransitions.

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