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- Джордж Элиот
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- Стр. 138/572
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One
fine
morning
a
young
man
whose
hair
was
not
immoderately
long
,
but
abundant
and
curly
,
and
who
was
otherwise
English
in
his
equipment
,
had
just
turned
his
back
on
the
Belvedere
Torso
in
the
Vatican
and
was
looking
out
on
the
magnificent
view
of
the
mountains
from
the
adjoining
round
vestibule
.
He
was
sufficiently
absorbed
not
to
notice
the
approach
of
a
dark
-
eyed
,
animated
German
who
came
up
to
him
and
placing
a
hand
on
his
shoulder
,
said
with
a
strong
accent
,
"
Come
here
,
quick
!
else
she
will
have
changed
her
pose
.
"
Quickness
was
ready
at
the
call
,
and
the
two
figures
passed
lightly
along
by
the
Meleager
,
towards
the
hall
where
the
reclining
Ariadne
,
then
called
the
Cleopatra
,
lies
in
the
marble
voluptuousness
of
her
beauty
,
the
drapery
folding
around
her
with
a
petal
-
like
ease
and
tenderness
.
They
were
just
in
time
to
see
another
figure
standing
against
a
pedestal
near
the
reclining
marble
:
a
breathing
blooming
girl
,
whose
form
,
not
shamed
by
the
Ariadne
,
was
clad
in
Quakerish
gray
drapery
;
her
long
cloak
,
fastened
at
the
neck
,
was
thrown
backward
from
her
arms
,
and
one
beautiful
ungloved
hand
pillowed
her
cheek
,
pushing
somewhat
backward
the
white
beaver
bonnet
which
made
a
sort
of
halo
to
her
face
around
the
simply
braided
dark
-
brown
hair
.
She
was
not
looking
at
the
sculpture
,
probably
not
thinking
of
it
:
her
large
eyes
were
fixed
dreamily
on
a
streak
of
sunlight
which
fell
across
the
floor
.
But
she
became
conscious
of
the
two
strangers
who
suddenly
paused
as
if
to
contemplate
the
Cleopatra
,
and
,
without
looking
at
them
,
immediately
turned
away
to
join
a
maid
-
servant
and
courier
who
were
loitering
along
the
hall
at
a
little
distance
off
.
"
What
do
you
think
of
that
for
a
fine
bit
of
antithesis
?
"
said
the
German
,
searching
in
his
friend
’
s
face
for
responding
admiration
,
but
going
on
volubly
without
waiting
for
any
other
answer
.
"
There
lies
antique
beauty
,
not
corpse
-
like
even
in
death
,
but
arrested
in
the
complete
contentment
of
its
sensuous
perfection
:
and
here
stands
beauty
in
its
breathing
life
,
with
the
consciousness
of
Christian
centuries
in
its
bosom
.
But
she
should
be
dressed
as
a
nun
;
I
think
she
looks
almost
what
you
call
a
Quaker
;
I
would
dress
her
as
a
nun
in
my
picture
.
However
,
she
is
married
;
I
saw
her
wedding
-
ring
on
that
wonderful
left
hand
,
otherwise
I
should
have
thought
the
sallow
Geistlicher
was
her
father
.
I
saw
him
parting
from
her
a
good
while
ago
,
and
just
now
I
found
her
in
that
magnificent
pose
.
Only
think
!
he
is
perhaps
rich
,
and
would
like
to
have
her
portrait
taken
.
Ah
!
it
is
no
use
looking
after
her
—
there
she
goes
!
Let
us
follow
her
home
!
"
"
No
,
no
,
"
said
his
companion
,
with
a
little
frown
.
"
You
are
singular
,
Ladislaw
.
You
look
struck
together
.
Do
you
know
her
?
"
"
I
know
that
she
is
married
to
my
cousin
,
"
said
Will
Ladislaw
,
sauntering
down
the
hall
with
a
preoccupied
air
,
while
his
German
friend
kept
at
his
side
and
watched
him
eagerly
.
"
What
!
the
Geistlicher
?
He
looks
more
like
an
uncle
—
a
more
useful
sort
of
relation
.
"
"
He
is
not
my
uncle
.
I
tell
you
he
is
my
second
cousin
,
"
said
Ladislaw
,
with
some
irritation
.
"
Schon
,
schon
.
Don
’
t
be
snappish
.
You
are
not
angry
with
me
for
thinking
Mrs
.
Second
-
Cousin
the
most
perfect
young
Madonna
I
ever
saw
?
"
