Повернення на батьківщину

           “Tellmetheparticularsof—mymother’sdeath,”hesaidinahard,pantingwhisper;“or—I’ll—I’ll—”

           “Clym,”sheansweredslowly,“doyouthinkyoudaredoanythingtomethatIdarenotbear?Butbeforeyoustrikemelisten.Youwillgetnothingfrommebyablow,eventhoughitshouldkillme,asitprobablywill.Butperhapsyoudonotwishmetospeak—killingmaybeallyoumean?”

           “Killyou!Doyouexpectit?”

           “Ido.”

           “Why?”

           “Nolessdegreeofrageagainstmewillmatchyourpreviousgriefforher.”

           “Phew—Ishallnotkillyou,”hesaidcontemptuously,asifunderasuddenchangeofpurpose.“Ididthinkofit;but—Ishallnot.Thatwouldbemakingamartyrofyou,andsendingyoutowheresheis;andIwouldkeepyouawayfromhertilltheuniversecometoanend,ifIcould.”

           “Ialmostwishyouwouldkillme,”saidshewithgloomybitterness.“Itiswithnostrongdesire,Iassureyou,thatIplaythepartIhavelatelyplayedonearth.Youarenoblessing,myhusband.”

           “Youshutthedoor—youlookedoutofthewindowuponher—youhadamaninthehousewithyou—yousentherawaytodie.Theinhumanity—thetreachery—Iwillnottouchyou—standawayfromme—andconfesseveryword!”

           “Never!I’llholdmytongueliketheverydeaththatIdon’tmindmeeting,eventhoughIcanclearmyselfofhalfyoubelievebyspeaking.Yes.Iwill!Whoofanydignitywouldtakethetroubletoclearcobwebsfromawildman’smindaftersuchlanguageasthis?No;lethimgoon,andthinkhisnarrowthoughts,andrunhisheadintothemire.