Хвилі

           Asiftherewerewavesofdarknessintheair,darknessmovedon,coveringhouses,hills,trees,aswavesofwaterwashroundthesidesofsomesunkenship.Darknesswasheddownstreets,eddyingroundsinglefigures,engulfingthem;blottingoutcouplesclaspedundertheshowerydarknessofelmtreesinfullsummerfoliage.Darknessrolleditswavesalonggrassyridesandoverthewrinkledskinoftheturf,envelopingthesolitarythorntreeandtheemptysnailshellsatitsfoot.Mountinghigher,darknessblewalongthebareuplandslopes,andmetthefrettedandabradedpinnaclesofthemountainwherethesnowlodgesforeveronthehardrockevenwhenthevalleysarefullofrunningstreamsandyellowvineleaves,andgirls,sittingonverandahs,lookupatthesnow,shadingtheirfaceswiththeirfans.Them,too,darknesscovered.

           ’Nowtosumup,’saidBernard.’Nowtoexplaintoyouthemeaningofmylife.Sincewedonotknoweachother(thoughImetyouonce,Ithink,onboardashipgoingtoAfrica),wecantalkfreely.Theillusionisuponmethatsomethingadheresforamoment,hasroundness,weight,depth,iscompleted.This,forthemoment,seemstobemylife.Ifitwerepossible,Iwouldhandittoyouentire.Iwouldbreakitoffasonebreaksoffabunchofgrapes.Iwouldsay,"Takeit.Thisismylife."

           ’Butunfortunately,whatIsee(thisglobe,fulloffigures)youdonotsee.Youseeme,sittingatatableoppositeyou,aratherheavy,elderlyman,greyatthetemples.Youseemetakemynapkinandunfoldit.Youseemepourmyselfoutaglassofwine.