Дні мрій

           IntheearlymorningHaroldandI,oncefullyawake,cross-examinedeachotherastothepossibilitiesofthisorthatcircustradition,andexhaustedthelorelongerethefirsthousemaidwasstirring.Inthisstateofexaltationweslippedonwardtowhatpromisedtobeadayofallwhitedays—whichbringsmerightbacktomytext,thatgrown-uppeoplereallyoughttobemorecareful.

           Ihadknownitcouldneverreallybe;Ihadsaidsotomyselfadozentimes.Thevisionwastoosweetlyetherealforembodiment.

           Yetthepangofthedisillusionmentwasnonethelesskeenandsickening,andthepainwasasthatofacorporealwound.Itseemedstrangeandforeboding,whenweenteredthebreakfast-room,nottofindeverybodycrackingwhips,jumpingoverchairs,andwhooping.Inecstaticrehearsalofthewildrealitytocome.

           Thesituationbecamegrimandpallidindeed,whenIcaughttheexpressions“garden-party”and“mymauvetulle,”andrealizedthattheybothreferredtothatveryafternoon.Andeveryminute,asIsatsilentandlistened,myheartsanklowerandlower,descendingrelentlesslylikeaclock-weightintomybootsoles.

           ThroughoutmyagonyIneverdreamedofresortingtoadirectquestion,muchlessareproach.Evenduringtheperiodofjoyfulanticipationsomefearofbreakingthespellhadkeptmefromanybaldcircustalkinthepresenceofthem.ButHarold,whowasbuiltinquiteanotherway,sosoonashediscernedthedriftoftheirconversationandheardtheknellofallhishopes,filledtheroomwithwailandclamourofbereavement.