Мхи старої садиби
Rappaccini's Daughter
Onthecontrary,heavoidedtheiractualtouchorthedirectinhalingoftheirodorswithacautionthatimpressedGiovannimostdisagreeably;fortheman’sdemeanorwasthatofonewalkingamongmalignantinfluences,suchassavagebeasts,ordeadlysnakes,orevilspirits,which,shouldheallowthemonemomentoflicense,wouldwreakuponhimsometerriblefatality.Itwasstrangelyfrightfultotheyoungman’simaginationtoseethisairofinsecurityinapersoncultivatingagarden,thatmostsimpleandinnocentofhumantoils,andwhichhadbeenalikethejoyandlaboroftheunfallenparentsoftherace.Wasthisgarden,then,theEdenofthepresentworld?Andthisman,withsuchaperceptionofharminwhathisownhandscausedtogrow,—washetheAdam?
Thedistrustfulgardener,whilepluckingawaythedeadleavesorpruningthetooluxuriantgrowthoftheshrubs,defendedhishandswithapairofthickgloves.Norwerethesehisonlyarmor.When,inhiswalkthroughthegarden,hecametothemagnificentplantthathungitspurplegemsbesidethemarblefountain,heplacedakindofmaskoverhismouthandnostrils,asifallthisbeautydidbutconcealadeadliermalice;but,findinghistaskstilltoodangerous,hedrewback,removedthemask,andcalledloudly,butintheinfirmvoiceofapersonaffectedwithinwarddisease,"Beatrice!Beatrice!"
"HereamI,myfather.
