Червона літера
The Interview
Withcalmandintentscrutiny,hefeltherpulse,lookedintohereyes—agazethatmadeherheartshrinkandshudder,becausesofamiliar,andyetsostrangeandcold—and,finally,satisfiedwithhisinvestigation,proceededtomingleanotherdraught.
"IknownotLethenorNepenthe,"remarkedhe;"butIhavelearnedmanynewsecretsinthewilderness,andhereisoneofthem—arecipethatanIndiantaughtme,inrequitalofsomelessonsofmyown,thatwereasoldasParacelsus.Drinkit!Itmaybelesssoothingthanasinlessconscience.ThatIcannotgivethee.Butitwillcalmtheswellandheavingofthypassion,likeoilthrownonthewavesofatempestuoussea."
HepresentedthecuptoHester,whoreceiveditwithaslow,earnestlookintohisface;notpreciselyalookoffear,yetfullofdoubtandquestioningastowhathispurposesmightbe.Shelookedalsoatherslumberingchild.
"Ihavethoughtofdeath,"saidshe—"havewishedforit—wouldevenhaveprayedforit,wereitfitthatsuchasIshouldprayforanything.Yet,ifdeathbeinthiscup,Ibidtheethinkagain,erethoubeholdestmequaffit.See!itisevennowatmylips."
"Drink,then,"repliedhe,stillwiththesamecoldcomposure.
