Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

XXIX

           Whatdidhemeanby“amoment’sfolly,aflashofmadness”?Howdidpeopleenteronsuchadventures,howpassoutofthemwithoutmorevisibletracesoftheirhavoc?Herimaginationrecoiledfromthevisionofasuddendebasingfamiliarity:itseemedtoherthatherthoughtswouldneveragainbepure...

           “Isweartoyou,”sheheardDarrowsaying,“itwassimplythat,andnothingmore.”

           Shewonderedathiscomposure,hiscompetence,athisknowingsoexactlywhattosay.Nodoubtmenoftenhadtomakesuchexplanations:theyhadtheformulasbyheart....Aleadenlassitudedescendedonher.Shepassedfromflameandtormentintoacolourlesscoldworldwhereeverythingsurroundingherseemedequallyindifferentandremote.Foramomentshesimplyceasedtofeel.

           ShebecameawarethatDarrowwaswaitingforhertospeak,andshemadeanefforttorepresenttoherselfthemeaningofwhathehadjustsaid;buthermindwasasblankasablurredmirror.Finallyshebroughtout:“Idon’tthinkIunderstandwhatyou’vetoldme.”

           “No;youdon’tunderstand,”hereturnedwithsuddenbitterness;andonhislipsthechargeofincomprehensionseemedanoffensetoher.

           “Idon’twantto—aboutsuchthings!”

           Heansweredalmostharshly:“Don’tbeafraid...youneverwill...”andforaninstanttheyfacedeachotherlikeenemies.Thenthetearsswelledinherthroatathisreproach.

           “YoumeanIdon’tfeelthings—I’mtoohard?”

           “No:you’retoohigh...toofine...suchthingsaretoofarfromyou.

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