Пробний камінь
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Theconviction,ifitdidnoteasehisconscience,atleastofferedhimtherelativereliefofobscurity:hefeltlikeanoffendertakendownfromthepilloryandthrustintothesoothingdarknessofacell.
Butoneevening,whenAlexahadlefthimtogotoadance,hechancedtoturnoverthemagazinesonhertable,andthecopyoftheHoroscope,towhichhesettleddownwithhiscigar,confrontedhim,onitsfirstpage,withaportraitofMargaretAubyn.Itwasareproductionofthephotographthathadstoodsolongonhisdesk.Thedesiccatingairofmemoryhadturnedherintothemereabstractionofawoman,andthisunexpectedevocationseemedtobringhernearerthanshehadeverbeeninlife.Wasitbecauseheunderstoodherbetter?Helookedlongintohereyes;littlepersonaltraitsreachedouttohimlikecaresses—thetireddroopofherlids,herquickwayofleaningforwardasshespoke,themovementsofherlongexpressivehands.Allthatwasfeminineinher,thequalityhehadalwaysmissed,stoletowardhimfromherunreproachfulgaze;andnowthatitwastoolatelifehaddevelopedinhimthesubtlerperceptionswhichcoulddetectitineventhispoorsemblanceofherself.Foramomenthefoundconsolationinthethoughtthat,atanycost,theyhadthusbeenbroughttogether;thenafloodofshamerushedoverhim.Facetofacewithher,hefelthimselflaidbaretotheinmostfoldofconsciousness.Theshamewasdeep,butitwasarenovatinganguish;hewaslikeamanwhomintolerablepainhasrousedfromthecreepinglethargyofdeath....
