Епоха невинності

           "That’sit:theyfeelequaltothings—theyknowtheirwayabout,"hemused,thinkingofhissonasthespokesmanofthenewgenerationwhichhadsweptawayalltheoldlandmarks,andwiththemthesign-postsandthedanger-signal.SuddenlyDallasstoppedshort,graspinghisfather’sarm."Oh,byJove,"heexclaimed.Theyhadcomeoutintothegreattree-plantedspacebeforetheInvalides.ThedomeofMansartfloatedethereallyabovethebuddingtreesandthelonggreyfrontofthebuilding:drawingupintoitselfalltheraysofafternoonlight,ithungtherelikethevisiblesymboloftherace’sglory.ArcherknewthatMadameOlenskalivedinasquarenearoneoftheavenuesradiatingfromtheInvalides;andhehadpicturedthequarterasquietandalmostobscure,forgettingthecentralsplendourthatlititup.Now,bysomequeerprocessofassociation,thatgoldenlightbecameforhimthepervadingilluminationinwhichshelived.Fornearlythirtyyears,herlife—ofwhichheknewsostrangelylittle—hadbeenspentinthisrichatmospherethathealreadyfelttobetoodenseandyettoostimulatingforhislungs.Hethoughtofthetheatresshemusthavebeento,thepicturesshemusthavelookedat,thesoberandsplendidoldhousesshemusthavefrequented,thepeopleshemusthavetalkedwith,theincessantstirofideas,curiosities,imagesandassociationsthrownoutbyanintenselysocialraceinasettingofimmemorialmanners;andsuddenlyherememberedtheyoungFrenchmanwhohadoncesaidtohim:"Ah,goodconversation—thereisnothinglikeit,isthere?"ArcherhadnotseenM.