Королі та капуста
Money Maze
Thenthetwostrolled,inthecooloftheafternoon,toGoodwin’shomeintheenvirons.
TheAmericanleftColonelFalconinabig,cool,shadowedroomwithafloorofinlaidandpolishedwoodsthatanymillionaireintheStateswouldhaveenvied,excusinghimselfforafewminutes.Hecrossedapatio,shadedwithdeftlyarrangedawningsandplants,andenteredalongroomlookingupontheseaintheoppositewingofthehouse.Thebroadjalousieswereopenedwide,andtheoceanbreezeflowedinthroughtheroom,aninvisiblecurrentofcoolnessandhealth.Goodwin’swifesatnearoneofthewindows,makingawater-colorsketchoftheafternoonseascape.
Herewasawomanwholookedtobehappy.Andmore—shelookedtobecontent.Hadapoetbeeninspiredtopenjustsimilesconcerningherfavour,hewouldhavelikenedherfull,cleareyes,withtheirwhite-encircled,grayirises,tomoonflowers.Withnoneofthegoddesseswhosetraditionalcharmshavebecomecoldlyclassicwouldthediscerningrhymesterhavecomparedher.ShewaspurelyParadisaic,notOlympian.IfyoucanimagineEve,aftertheeviction,beguilingtheflamingwarriorsandserenelyreenteringtheGarden,youwillhaveher.Justsohuman,andstillsoharmoniouswithEdenseemedMrs.Goodwin.
Whenherhusbandenteredshelookedup,andherlipscurvedandparted;hereyelidsflutteredtwiceorthrice—amovementremindful(Poesyforgiveus!)ofthetail-waggingofafaithfuldog—andalittleripplewentthroughherlikethecommotionsetupinaweepingwillowbyapuffofwind.
