Хвилі

           ButwhenIgetup,brushingthecrumbsfrommywaistcoat,Isliptoolargeatip,ashilling,undertheedgeofmyplate,sothatshemaynotfindittillIamgone,andherscorn,asshepicksitupwithlaughter,maynotstrikeonmetillIampasttheswing-doors.’

           ’Nowthewindliftstheblind,’saidSusan,’jars,bowls,mattingandtheshabbyarm-chairwiththeholeinitarenowbecomedistinct.Theusualfadedribbonssprinklethewallpaper.Thebirdchorusisover,onlyonebirdnowsingsclosetothebedroomwindow.Iwillpullonmystockingsandgoquietlypastthebedroomdoors,anddownthroughthekitchen,outthroughthegardenpastthegreenhouseintothefield.Itisstillearlymorning.Themistisonthemarshes.Thedayisstarkandstiffasalinenshroud.Butitwillsoften;itwillwarm.Atthishour,thisstillearlyhour,IthinkIamthefield,Iamthebarn,Iamthetrees;minearetheflocksofbirds,andthisyoungharewholeaps,atthelastmomentwhenIstepalmostonhim.Mineistheheronthatstretchesitsvastwingslazily;andthecowthatcreaksasitpushesonefootbeforeanothermunching;andthewild,swoopingswallow;andthefaintredinthesky,andthegreenwhentheredfades;thesilenceandthebell;thecallofthemanfetchingcart-horsesfromthefields--allaremine.

           ’Icannotbedivided,orkeptapart.Iwassenttoschool;IwassenttoSwitzerlandtofinishmyeducation.Ihatelinoleum;Ihatefirtreesandmountains.Letmenowflingmyselfonthisflatgroundunderapaleskywherethecloudspaceslowly.