Червона літера
The Pastor and His Parishioner
Hesankdownontheground,andburiedhisfaceinhishands.
"Imighthaveknownit,"murmuredhe—"Ididknowit!Wasnotthesecrettoldme,inthenaturalrecoilofmyheartatthefirstsightofhim,andasoftenasIhaveseenhimsince?WhydidInotunderstand?Oh,HesterPrynne,thoulittle,littleknowestallthehorrorofthisthing!Andtheshame!—theindelicacy!—thehorribleuglinessofthisexposureofasickandguiltyhearttotheveryeyethatwouldgloatoverit!Woman,woman,thouartaccountableforthis!—Icannotforgivethee!"
"Thoushaltforgiveme!"criedHester,flingingherselfonthefallenleavesbesidehim."LetGodpunish!Thoushaltforgive!"
Withsuddenanddesperatetendernessshethrewherarmsaroundhim,andpressedhisheadagainstherbosom,littlecaringthoughhischeekrestedonthescarletletter.Hewouldhavereleasedhimself,butstroveinvaintodoso.Hesterwouldnotsethimfree,lestheshouldlookhersternlyintheface.Alltheworldhadfrownedonher—forsevenlongyearshaditfrowneduponthislonelywoman—andstillsheboreitall,noreveronceturnedawayherfirm,sadeyes.Heaven,likewise,hadfrowneduponher,andshehadnotdied.Butthefrownofthispale,weak,sinful,andsorrow-strickenmanwaswhatHestercouldnotbear,andlive!
"Wiltthouyetforgiveme?"sherepeated,overandoveragain.
