Вдалині від божевільного натовпу

XI. Outside the Barracks—Snow—A Meeting

           

           Theriverwouldhavebeenseenbydaytobeofthatdeepsmoothsortwhichracesmiddleandsideswiththesameglidingprecision,anyirregularitiesofspeedbeingimmediatelycorrectedbyasmallwhirlpool.Nothingwasheardinreplytothesignalbutthegurgleandcluckofoneoftheseinvisiblewheelstogetherwithafewsmallsoundswhichasadmanwouldhavecalledmoans,andahappymanlaughtercausedbytheflappingofthewatersagainsttriflingobjectsinotherpartsofthestream.

           Thewindowwasstruckagaininthesamemanner.

           Thenanoisewasheard,apparentlyproducedbytheopeningofthewindow.Thiswasfollowedbyavoicefromthesamequarter.

           "Who’sthere?"

           Thetonesweremasculine,andnotthoseofsurprise.Thehighwallbeingthatofabarrack,andmarriagebeinglookeduponwithdisfavourinthearmy,assignationsandcommunicationshadprobablybeenmadeacrosstheriverbeforeto-night.

           "IsitSergeantTroy?"saidtheblurredspotinthesnow,tremulously.

           Thispersonwassomuchlikeamereshadeupontheearth,andtheotherspeakersomuchapartofthebuilding,thatonewouldhavesaidthewallwasholdingaconversationwiththesnow.

           "Yes,"camesuspiciouslyfromtheshadow."Whatgirlareyou?"

           "Oh,Frankdon’tyouknowme?"saidthespot."Yourwife,FannyRobin."

           "Fanny!"saidthewall,inutterastonishment.

           "Yes,"saidthegirl,withahalf-suppressedgaspofemotion.

           Therewassomethinginthewoman’stonewhichisnotthatofthewife,andtherewasamannerinthemanwhichisrarelyahusband’s.

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