Хвилі

           Alreadytheroom,withitsswing-doors,itstablesheapedwithfruit,withcoldjoints,wearsthewavering,unrealappearanceofaplacewhereonewaitsexpectingsomethingtohappen.Thingsquiverasifnotyetinbeing.Theblanknessofthewhitetable-clothglares.Thehostility,theindifferenceofotherpeopledininghereisoppressive.Welookateachother;seethatwedonotknoweachother,stare,andgooff.Suchlooksarelashes.Ifeelthewholecrueltyandindifferenceoftheworldinthem.IfheshouldnotcomeIcouldnotbearit.Ishouldgo.Yetsomebodymustbeseeinghimnow.Hemustbeinsomecab;hemustbepassingsomeshop.Andeverymomentheseemstopumpintothisroomthispricklylight,thisintensityofbeing,sothatthingshavelosttheirnormaluses--thisknife-bladeisonlyaflashoflight,notathingtocutwith.Thenormalisabolished.

           ’Thedooropens,buthedoesnotcome.ThatisLouishesitatingthere.Thatishisstrangemixtureofassuranceandtimidity.Helooksathimselfinthelooking-glassashecomesin;hetoucheshishair;heisdissatisfiedwithhisappearance.Hesays,"IamaDuke--thelastofanancientrace."Heisacrid,suspicious,domineering,difficult(IamcomparinghimwithPercival).Atthesametimeheisformidable,forthereislaughterinhiseyes.Hehasseenme.Hereheis.’

           ’ThereisSusan,’saidLouis.’Shedoesnotseeus.Shehasnotdressed,becauseshedespisesthefutilityofLondon.Shestandsforamomentattheswing-door,lookingaboutherlikeacreaturedazedbythelightofalamp.Nowshemoves.