Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

IV

           Whereelse,forinstance,couldonefindthedearlittledishesofhorsd’oeuvre,thesymmetrically-laidanchoviesandradishes,thethingoldenshellsofbutter,orthewoodstrawberriesandbrownjarsofcreamthatgavetotheirrepastthelastrefinementofrusticity?Hadn’thenoticed,sheasked,thatcookingalwaysexpressedthenationalcharacter,andthatFrenchfoodwascleverandamusingjustbecausethepeoplewere?Andinprivatehouses,everywhere,howthedishesalwaysresembledthetalk—howtheverysameplatitudesseemedtogointopeople’smouthsandcomeoutofthem?Couldn’theseejustwhatkindofmenuitwouldmake,ifafairywavedawandandsuddenlyturnedtheconversationataLondondinnerintojointsandpuddings?ShealwaysthoughtitagoodsignwhenpeoplelikedIrishstew;itmeantthattheyenjoyedchangesandsurprises,andtakinglifeasitcame;andsuchabeautifulParisianversionofthedishasthenavarinthatwasjustbeingsetbeforethemwasliketheverybestkindoftalk—thekindwhenonecouldnevertellbefore-handjustwhatwasgoingtobesaid!

           Darrow,ashewatchedherenjoymentoftheirinnocentfeast,wonderedifhervividnessandvivacityweresignsofhercalling.Shewasthekindofgirlinwhomcertainpeoplewouldinstantlyhaverecognizedthehistrionicgift.Butexperiencehadledhimtothinkthat,exceptatthecreativemoment,thedivineflameburnslowinitspossessors.Theoneortworeallyintelligentactresseshehadknownhadstruckhim,inconversation,aseitherbovineorprimitively“jolly”.

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