Хвилі

           Thevinethathadbeenkilledbylastyear’sfrostwasputtingoutaleafortwo.Shewalkedheavilywithhersonsacrosshermeadows.Shewentaboutthelandattendedbymeningaiters,pointingwithherstickataroof,athedges,atwallsfallenintodisrepair.Thepigeonsfollowedher,waddling,forthegrainthatsheletfallfromhercapable,earthyfingers."ButInolongerriseatdawn,"shesaid.ThenJinny--entertaining,nodoubt,somenewyoungman.Theyreachedthecrisisoftheusualconversation.Theroomwouldbedarkened;chairsarranged.Forshestillsoughtthemoment.Withoutillusions,hardandclearascrystal,sherodeatthedaywithherbreastbared.Sheletitsspikespierceher.Whenthelockwhitenedonherforeheadshetwisteditfearlesslyamongtherest.Sowhentheycometoburyhernothingwillbeoutoforder.Bitsofribbonswillbefoundcurledup.Butstillthedooropens.Whoiscomingin?sheasks,andrisestomeethim,prepared,asonthosefirstspringnightswhenthetreeunderthebigLondonhouseswhererespectablecitizensweregoingsoberlytobedscarcelyshelteredherlove;andthesqueakoftramsmixedwithhercryofdelightandtheripplingofleaveshadtoshadeherlanguor,herdeliciouslassitudeasshesankdowncooledbyallthesweetnessofnaturesatisfied.