Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

XXI

           Perhaps,afterall,itwasinthefactofherblankinsensibility,aninsensibilitysodevoidofegotismthatithadnohardnessandnogrimaces,butratherthefreshnessofasimplermentalstate.Afterliving,ashehad,astheyallhad,forthelastfewdays,inanatmosphereperpetuallytremulouswithechoesandimplications,itwasrestfulandfortifyingmerelytowalkintothebigblankareaofMissPainter’smind,sovacuousforallitsaccumulateditems,soecholessforallitsvacuity.

           HishopeofawordwithAnnabeforedinnerwasdispelledbyherrisingtotakeMissPainteruptoMadamedeChantelle;andhewanderedawaytohisownroom,leavingOwenandMissVinerengagedinworkingoutapicture-puzzleforEffie.

           MadamedeChantelle—possiblyastheresultofherfriend’sministrations—wasabletoappearatthedinner-table,ratherpaleandpink-nosed,andcastingtenderlyreproachfulglancesathergrandson,whofacedthemwithimperviousserenity;andthesituationwasrelievedbythefactthatMissViner,asusual,hadremainedintheschool-roomwithherpupil.

           Darrowconjecturedthattherealclashofarmswouldnottakeplacetillthemorrow;andwishingtoleavethefieldopentothecontestantshesetoutearlyonasolitarywalk.Itwasnearlyluncheon-timewhenhereturnedfromitandcameuponAnnajustemergingfromthehouse.Shehadonherhatandjacketandwasapparentlycomingforthtoseekhim,forshesaidatonce:“MadamedeChantellewantsyoutogouptoher.”

           “Togouptoher?Now?”

           “That’sthemessageshesent.Sheappearstorelyonyoutodosomething.

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