Червона літера
The Procession
"Now,whatmortalimaginationcouldconceiveit?"whisperedtheoldladyconfidentiallytoHester."Yonderdivineman!Thatsaintonearth,asthepeopleupholdhimtobe,andas—Imustneedssay—hereallylooks!Who,now,thatsawhimpassintheprocession,wouldthinkhowlittlewhileitissincehewentforthoutofhisstudy—chewingaHebrewtextofScriptureinhismouth,Iwarrant—totakeanairingintheforest!Aha!weknowwhatthatmeans,HesterPrynne!Buttruly,forsooth,Ifindithardtobelievehimthesameman.ManyachurchmembersawI,walkingbehindthemusic,thathasdancedinthesamemeasurewithme,whenSomebodywasfiddler,and,itmightbe,anIndianpowwoworaLaplandwizardchanginghandswithus!Thatisbutatrifle,whenawomanknowstheworld.Butthisminister.Couldstthousurelytell,Hester,whetherhewasthesamemanthatencounteredtheeontheforestpath?"
"Madam,Iknownotofwhatyouspeak,"answeredHesterPrynne,feelingMistressHibbinstobeofinfirmmind;yetstrangelystartledandawe-strickenbytheconfidencewithwhichsheaffirmedapersonalconnexionbetweensomanypersons(herselfamongthem)andtheEvilOne."ItisnotformetotalklightlyofalearnedandpiousministeroftheWord,liketheReverendMr.Dimmesdale."
"Fie,woman—fie!"criedtheoldlady,shakingherfingeratHester.
