Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

VI

           “They’llhavewritten,”shehadsimplysaid;andhermindhadatonceflownontothegoldenprospectofanafternoonatthetheatre.Theinterveninghourshadbeendisposedofinastrollthroughthelivelystreets,andarepast,luxuriouslylingeredover,underthechestnut-boughsofarestaurantintheChampsElysees.Everythingentertainedandinterestedher,andDarrowremarked,withanamuseddetachment,thatshewasnotinsensibletotheimpressionhercharmsproduced.Yettherewasnohardedgeofvanityinhersenseofherprettiness:sheseemedsimplytobeawareofitasanoteinthegeneralharmony,andtoenjoysoundingthenoteasasingerenjoyssinging.

           Afterluncheon,astheysatovertheircoffee,shehadagainaskedanimmensenumberofquestionsanddeliveredherselfofaremarkablevarietyofopinions.Herquestionstestifiedtoawholesomeandcomprehensivehumancuriosity,andhercommentsshowed,likeherfaceandherwholeattitude,anoddminglingofprecociouswisdomanddisarmingignorance.Whenshetalkedtohimabout“life”—thewordwasoftenonherlips—sheseemedtohimlikeachildplayingwithatiger’scub;andhesaidtohimselfthatsomedaythechildwouldgrowup—andsowouldthetiger.Meanwhile,suchexpertnessqualifiedbysuchcandourmadeitimpossibletoguesstheextentofherpersonalexperience,ortoestimateitseffectonhercharacter.Shemightbeanyoneofadozendefinabletypes,orshemight—moredisconcertinglytohercompanionandmoreperilouslytoherself—beashiftinganduncrystallizedmixtureofthemall.

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