Белые люди

Chapter V

           LeBretonwasthebrilliantmanwiththesadeyes.Hewasstandinglookingatamassofwhite-and-purpleirisattheothersideofthegarden.Thereweretwoorthreepeoplewithhim,butitseemedasifforamomenthehadforgottenthem—hadforgottenwherehewas.Iwonderedsuddenlyifhisdaughterhadbeenfondofirises.Hewaslookingatthemwithsuchatender,lostexpression.Thegirl,whowasalovely,fairthing,wasstandingquiteclosetohimwithherhandinhisarm,andshewassmiling,too—suchasmile!

           “Mr.LeBreton!”Mr.MacNairnsaidinaratherstartledtone.“Thegirlwithherhandinhisarm?”

           “Yes.Youseehowfairsheis,”Ianswered.

           “Andshehasthattransparentlook.Itissolovely.Don’tyouthinkso?SHEisoneoftheWhitePeople.”

           Hestoodverystill,lookingacrosstheflowersatthegroup.Therewasasingularinterestandintensityinhisexpression.Hewatchedthepairsilentlyforawholeminute,Ithink.

           “Ye-es,”hesaid,slowly,atlast,“Idoseewhatyoumean—anditISlovely.Idon’tseemtoknowherwell.Shemustbeanewfriendofmymother’s.SosheisoneoftheWhitePeople?”

           “Shelookslikeawhiteirisherself,doesn’tshe?”Isaid.“Nowyouknow.”

           “Yes;nowIknow,”heanswered.

           IaskedMrs.MacNairnlaterwhothegirlwas,butshedidn’tseemtorecognizemydescriptionofher.Mr.LeBretonhadgoneawaybythattime,andsohadthegirlherself.

           “Thetall,veryfaironeinthemisty,pale-graydress,”Isaid.“ShewasnearMr.LeBretonwhenhewaslookingattheiris-bed

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