Скорбота сатани

Chapter 4

           Amielwaitedrespectfully,nowandthenfurtivelyglancingatmewithanexpressionwhichtomyfancyhadsomethingderisiveinit.

           "IsthereanythingIcandoforyousir?"heinquired.

           "Nothankyou,"—Ianswered,endeavouringtothrowanaccentofcarelesscondescensionintomyvoice—forsomehowIfeltthismanmustbekeptstrictlyinhisplace—"youhavebeenveryattentive—Ishallnotforgetit."

           Aslightsmileflickeredoverhisfeatures.

           "Muchobligedtoyou,sir.Good-night."

           Andheretired,leavingmealone.Ipacedtheroomupanddownmoredreamilythanconsciously,tryingtothink—tryingtosetinordertheamazingeventsoftheday,butmybrainwasstilldazedandconfused,andtheonlyimageofactualprominenceinmymindwasthestrikingandremarkablepersonalityofmynewfriendRimânez.Hisextraordinarygoodlooks,hisattractivemanner,hiscuriouscynicismwhichwassooddlymixedwithsomedeepersentimenttowhichIcouldnotgiveaname,allthetriflingyetuncommonpeculiaritiesofhisbearingandhumourhauntedmeandbecameindissolublymingledasitwerewithmyselfandallthecircumstancesconcerningme.Iundressedbeforethefire,listeningdrowsilytotherain,andthethunderwhichwasnowdyingoffintosullenechoes.

           "GeoffreyTempest,theworldisbeforeyou—"Isaid,apostrophizingmyselfindolently—"youareayoungman—youhavehealth,agoodappearance,andbrains—addedtotheseyounowhavefivemillionsofmoney,andawealthyprinceforyourfriend

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