Хвилі

           Onebreathesinandoutsubstantialbreath;downinthevalleythetraindrawsacrossthefieldslop-earedwithsmoke.

           ’ButforamomentIhadsatontheturfsomewherehighabovetheflowoftheseaandthesoundofthewoods,hadseenthehouse,thegarden,andthewavesbreaking.Theoldnursewhoturnsthepagesofthepicture-bookhadstoppedandhadsaid,"Look.Thisisthetruth."

           ’SoIwasthinkingasIcamealongShaftesburyAvenueto-night.Iwasthinkingofthatpageinthepicture-book.AndwhenImetyouintheplacewhereonegoestohangupone’scoatIsaidtomyself,"ItdoesnotmatterwhomImeet.Allthislittleaffairof’being’isover.WhothisisIdonotknow;norcare;wewilldinetogether."SoIhungupmycoat,tappedyouontheshoulder,andsaid,"Sitwithme."

           ’Nowthemealisfinished;wearesurroundedbypeelingsandbreadcrumbs.Ihavetriedtobreakoffthisbunchandhandityou;butwhetherthereissubstanceortruthinitIdonotknow.NordoIknowexactlywhereweare.Whatcitydoesthatstretchofskylookdownupon?IsitParis,isitLondonwherewesit,orsomesoutherncityofpink-washedhouseslyingundercypresses,underhighmountains,whereeaglessoar?Idonotatthismomentfeelcertain.

           ’Ibeginnowtoforget;Ibegintodoubtthefixityoftables,therealityofhereandnow,totapmyknucklessmartlyupontheedgesofapparentlysolidobjectsandsay,"Areyouhard?"Ihaveseensomanydifferentthings,havemadesomanydifferentsentences.