Хвилі

           Hisshirtfront,thereinthecorner,hasbeenwhite;thenpurple;smokeandflamehavewrappedusabout;afterafuriousconflagration--yetwescarcelyraisedourvoices,sittingonthehearth-rug,aswemurmuredallthesecretsofourheartsasintoshellssothatnobodymighthearinthesleeping-house,butIheardthecookstironce,andoncewethoughtthetickingoftheclockwasafootfall--wehavesunktoashes,leavingnorelics,nounburntbones,nowispsofhairtobekeptinlocketssuchasyourintimaciesleavebehindthem.NowIturngrey;nowIturngaunt;butIlookatmyfaceatmiddaysittinginfrontofthelooking-glassinbroaddaylight,andnotepreciselymynose,mychin,mylipsthatopentoowideandshowtoomuchgum.ButIamnotafraid.’

           ’Therewerelamp-posts,’saidRhoda,’andtreesthathadnotyetshedtheirleavesonthewayfromthestation.Theleavesmighthavehiddenmestill.ButIdidnothidebehindthem.IwalkedstraightuptoyouinsteadofcirclingroundtoavoidtheshockofsensationasIused.ButitisonlythatIhavetaughtmybodytodoacertaintrick.InwardlyIamnottaught;Ifear,Ihate,Ilove,Ienvyanddespiseyou,butIneverjoinyouhappily.Comingupfromthestation,refusingtoaccepttheshadowofthetreesandthepillar-boxes,Iperceived,fromyourcoatsandumbrellas,evenatadistance,howyoustandembeddedinasubstancemadeofrepeatedmomentsruntogether;arecommitted,haveanattitude,withchildren,authority,fame,love,society;whereIhavenothing.Ihavenoface.