Скорбота сатани

Chapter 33

           WelunchedattheSavoy,andamusedourselveswithnotingthetownnoodlesoffashion—theinaneyoungmaninthestocksofthestiffhighcollar,andwearingthemanaclesofequallystiffandexaggeratedcuffs,averitableprisonerinthedockofsillycustom—thefrivolousfoolofawoman,paintedandpowdered,withfalsehairanddyedeyebrows,tryingtolookasmuchlikeapaidcourtezanaspossible—theelderlymatron,skippingforwardonhighheels,andattemptingbytheassumptionofjuvenileairsandgracestocoverupandconcealtheobtrusivefactsofatooobviouspaunchandoverlappingbosom—thewould-bedandyand‘beau’ofseventy,strangelypossessedbyyouthfuldesires,andmanifestingthesamebygoat-likecaperingsattheheelsofyoungmarriedwomen;—theseandsuch-likecontemptibleunitsofacontemptiblesocialswarm,passedbeforeuslikepuppetsatacountryfair,andarousedusinturntolaughterordisdain.Whileweyetlingeredoverourwine,amancameinalone,andsatdownatthetablenexttoours;—hehadwithhimabook,which,aftergivinghisordersforluncheon,heatonceopenedatamarkedplaceandbegantoreadwithabsorbedattention—IrecognisedthecoverofthevolumeandknewittobeMavisClare’s"Differences."Ahazefloatedbeforemysight—asensationofrisingtearswasinmythroat—Isawthefairface,earnesteyes,andsweetsmileofMavis—thatwoman-wearerofthelaurel-crown—thatkeeperoftheliliesofpurityandpeace.

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