Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

IV

           Ifonlyasasympatheticear,heguessedwhathemustbeworthtoher.Thegirlhadbeendyingforsomeonetotalkto,someonebeforewhomshecouldunfoldandshakeouttothelightherpoorlittleshut-awayemotions.Yearsofrepressionwererevealedinhersuddenburstofconfidence;andthepitysheinspiredmadeDarrowlongtofillherfewfreehourstothebrim.

           Shehadthegiftofrapiddefinition,andhisquestionsastothelifeshehadledwiththeFarlows,duringtheinterregnumbetweentheHokeandMurretteras,calledupbeforehimaqueerlittlecornerofParisianexistence.TheFarlowsthemselves—heapainter,shea“magazinewriter”—rosebeforehiminalltheirincorruptiblesimplicity:anelderlyNewEnglandcouple,withvagueyearningsforenfranchisement,wholivedinParisasifitwereaMassachusettssuburb,anddwelthopefullyonthe“higherside”oftheGallicnature.WithequalvividnessshesetbeforehimthecomponentfiguresofthecirclefromwhichMrs.Farlowdrewthe“InnerGlimpsesofFrenchLife”appearingoverhernameinaleadingNewEnglandjournal:theRoumanianladywhohadsentthemticketsforhertragedy,anelderlyFrenchgentlemanwho,onthestrengthofaweek’sstayatFolkestone,translatedEnglishfictionfortheprovincialpress,aladyfromWichita,Kansas,whoadvocatedfreeloveandtheabolitionofthecorset,aclergyman’swidowfromTorquaywhohadwrittenan“EnglishLadies’GuidetoForeignGalleries”andaRussiansculptorwholivedonnutsandwas“almostcertainly”ananarchist.

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