Хвилі

           Whatsongshallwehearnowthatthesecoupleshavesoughtthegroves,andJinny,pointingwithherglovedhand,pretendstonoticethewater-lilies,andSusan,whohasalwayslovedBernard,saystohim,"Myruinedlife,mywastedlife."AndNeville,takingJinny’slittlehand,withthecherry-colouredfinger-nails,bythelake,bythemoonlitwater,cries,"Love,love,"andsheanswers,imitatingthebird,"Love,love?"Whatsongdowehear?’

           ’Theyvanish,towardsthelake,’saidRhoda.’Theyslinkawayoverthegrassfurtively,yetwithassuranceasiftheyaskedofourpitytheirancientprivilege--nottobedisturbed.Thetideinthesoul,tipped,flowsthatway;theycannothelpdesertingus.Thedarkhasclosedovertheirbodies.Whatsongdowehear--theowl’s,thenightingale’s,thewren’s?Thesteamerhoots;thelightontheelectricrailsflashes;thetreesgravelybowandbend.TheflarehangsoverLondon.Hereisanoldwoman,quietlyreturning,andaman,alatefisherman,comesdowntheterracewithhisrod.Notasound,notamovementmustescapeus.’

           ’Abirdflieshomeward,’saidLouis.’Eveningopenshereyesandgivesonequickglanceamongthebushesbeforeshesleeps.Howshallweputittogether,theconfusedandcompositemessagethattheysendbacktous,andnottheyonly,butmanydead,boysandgirls,grownmenandwomen,whohavewanderedhere,underonekingoranother?’

           ’Aweighthasdroppedintothenight,’saidRhoda,’draggingitdown.Everytreeisbigwithashadowthatisnottheshadowofthetreebehindit.