Біла пташка
A Confirmed Spinster
Shecametomeslowly;noincomprehensiblethingtomenow,buttransparentasapool,andsorestfultolookuponthatshewasabathtotheeyes,likebanksofmoss.
BecauseIknewthemaid,shewasmine.Everymaid,Isay,isforhimwhocanknowher.Theothershadbutfollowedtheglamourinwhichshewalked,butIhadpierceditandfoundthewoman.Icouldanticipatehereverythoughtandgesture,Icouldhaveflashedandrippledandmockedforher,andmeltedforherandbeendeardisdainforher.Shewouldforgetthisandbesuddenlyconsciousofitasshebegantospeak,whenshegavemealookwithashysmileinitwhichmeantthatsheknewIwasalreadywaitingattheendofwhatshehadtosay.Icallthistheblushoftheeye.Shehadalookandavoicethatwereformealone;herveryfinger-tipswerechargedwithcaressesforme.AndIlovedevenhernaughtinesses,aswhenshestampedherfootatme,whichshecouldnotdowithoutalsognashingherteeth,likeachildtryingtolookfearsome.Howprettywasthatgnashingofherteeth!Allhertormentingsofmeturnedsuddenlyintosweetnesses,andwhocouldtormentlikethisexquisitefury,wonderinginsuddenflamewhyshecouldgiveherselftoanyone,whileIwonderedonlywhyshecouldgiveherselftome.ItmaybethatIwonderedover-much.PerhapsthatwaswhyIlosther.
Itwasinthefullofthemoonthatshewasmostrestive,butIbroughtherback,andatfirstshecouldhavebitmyhand,butthenshecamewillingly.Never,Ithought,shallshebewhollytamed,buthewhoknowsherwillalwaysbeabletobringherback.
