Червона літера
The Recognition
Itwascarelesslyatfirst,likeamanchieflyaccustomedtolookinward,andtowhomexternalmattersareoflittlevalueandimport,unlesstheybearrelationtosomethingwithinhismind.Verysoon,however,hislookbecamekeenandpenetrative.Awrithinghorrortwisteditselfacrosshisfeatures,likeasnakeglidingswiftlyoverthem,andmakingonelittlepause,withallitswreathedintervolutionsinopensight.Hisfacedarkenedwithsomepowerfulemotion,which,nevertheless,hesoinstantaneouslycontrolledbyaneffortofhiswill,that,saveatasinglemoment,itsexpressionmighthavepassedforcalmness.Afterabriefspace,theconvulsiongrewalmostimperceptible,andfinallysubsidedintothedepthsofhisnature.WhenhefoundtheeyesofHesterPrynnefastenedonhisown,andsawthatsheappearedtorecognizehim,heslowlyandcalmlyraisedhisfinger,madeagesturewithitintheair,andlaiditonhislips.
Thentouchingtheshoulderofatownsmanwhostoodneartohim,headdressedhiminaformalandcourteousmanner:
"Iprayyou,goodSir,"saidhe,"whoisthiswoman?—andwhereforeissheheresetuptopublicshame?"
"Youmustneedsbeastrangerinthisregion,friend,"answeredthetownsman,lookingcuriouslyatthequestionerandhissavagecompanion,"elseyouwouldsurelyhaveheardofMistressHesterPrynneandherevildoings.Shehathraisedagreatscandal,Ipromiseyou,ingodlyMasterDimmesdale’schurch."
