Джейн Ейр

Chapter XIII

           Throwingtheseintodistance,rose,intheforeground,ahead,acolossalhead,inclinedtowardstheiceberg,andrestingagainstit. Twothinhands,joinedundertheforehead,andsupportingit,drewupbeforethelowerfeaturesasableveil,abrowquitebloodless,whiteasbone,andaneyehollowandfixed,blankofmeaningbutfortheglassinessofdespair,alonewerevisible. Abovethetemples,amidstwreathedturbanfoldsofblackdrapery,vagueinitscharacterandconsistencyascloud,gleamedaringofwhiteflame,gemmedwithsparklesofamoreluridtinge. Thispalecrescentwas"thelikenessofakinglycrown;"whatitdiademedwas"theshapewhichshapehadnone." 

           "Wereyouhappywhenyoupaintedthesepictures?"askedMr.Rochesterpresently. 

           "Iwasabsorbed,sir:yes,andIwashappy. Topaintthem,inshort,wastoenjoyoneofthekeenestpleasuresIhaveeverknown." 

           "Thatisnotsayingmuch. Yourpleasures,byyourownaccount,havebeenfew;butIdaresayyoudidexistinakindofartist’sdreamlandwhileyoublentandarrangedthesestrangetints. Didyousitatthemlongeachday?" 

           "Ihadnothingelsetodo,becauseitwasthevacation,andIsatatthemfrommorningtillnoon,andfromnoontillnight: thelengthofthemidsummerdaysfavouredmyinclinationtoapply." 

           "Andyoufeltself-satisfiedwiththeresultofyourardentlabours?" 

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