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- Джордж Элиот
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- Мидлмарч
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Rosamond
and
Mary
had
been
talking
faster
than
their
male
friends
.
They
did
not
think
of
sitting
down
,
but
stood
at
the
toilet
-
table
near
the
window
while
Rosamond
took
off
her
hat
,
adjusted
her
veil
,
and
applied
little
touches
of
her
finger
-
tips
to
her
hair
—
hair
of
infantine
fairness
,
neither
flaxen
nor
yellow
.
Mary
Garth
seemed
all
the
plainer
standing
at
an
angle
between
the
two
nymphs
—
the
one
in
the
glass
,
and
the
one
out
of
it
,
who
looked
at
each
other
with
eyes
of
heavenly
blue
,
deep
enough
to
hold
the
most
exquisite
meanings
an
ingenious
beholder
could
put
into
them
,
and
deep
enough
to
hide
the
meanings
of
the
owner
if
these
should
happen
to
be
less
exquisite
.
Only
a
few
children
in
Middlemarch
looked
blond
by
the
side
of
Rosamond
,
and
the
slim
figure
displayed
by
her
riding
-
habit
had
delicate
undulations
.
In
fact
,
most
men
in
Middlemarch
,
except
her
brothers
,
held
that
Miss
Vincy
was
the
best
girl
in
the
world
,
and
some
called
her
an
angel
.
Mary
Garth
,
on
the
contrary
,
had
the
aspect
of
an
ordinary
sinner
:
she
was
brown
;
her
curly
dark
hair
was
rough
and
stubborn
;
her
stature
was
low
;
and
it
would
not
be
true
to
declare
,
in
satisfactory
antithesis
,
that
she
had
all
the
virtues
.
Plainness
has
its
peculiar
temptations
and
vices
quite
as
much
as
beauty
;
it
is
apt
either
to
feign
amiability
,
or
,
not
feigning
it
,
to
show
all
the
repulsive
ness
of
discontent
:
at
any
rate
,
to
be
called
an
ugly
thing
in
contrast
with
that
lovely
creature
your
companion
,
is
apt
to
produce
some
effect
beyond
a
sense
of
fine
veracity
and
fitness
in
the
phrase
.
At
the
age
of
two
-
and
-
twenty
Mary
had
certainly
not
attained
that
perfect
good
sense
and
good
principle
which
are
usually
recommended
to
the
less
fortunate
girl
,
as
if
they
were
to
be
obtained
in
quantities
ready
mixed
,
with
a
flavor
of
resignation
as
required
.
Her
shrewdness
had
a
streak
of
satiric
bitterness
continually
renewed
and
never
carried
utterly
out
of
sight
,
except
by
a
strong
current
of
gratitude
towards
those
who
,
instead
of
telling
her
that
she
ought
to
be
contented
,
did
something
to
make
her
so
.
Advancing
womanhood
had
tempered
her
plainness
,
which
was
of
a
good
human
sort
,
such
as
the
mothers
of
our
race
have
very
commonly
worn
in
all
latitudes
under
a
more
or
less
becoming
headgear
.
Rembrandt
would
have
painted
her
with
pleasure
,
and
would
have
made
her
broad
features
look
out
of
the
canvas
with
intelligent
honesty
.
For
honesty
,
truth
-
telling
fairness
,
was
Mary
’
s
reigning
virtue
:
she
neither
tried
to
create
illusions
,
nor
indulged
in
them
for
her
own
behoof
,
and
when
she
was
in
a
good
mood
she
had
humor
enough
in
her
to
laugh
at
herself
.
When
she
and
Rosamond
happened
both
to
be
reflected
in
the
glass
,
she
said
,
laughingly
—
"
What
a
brown
patch
I
am
by
the
side
of
you
,
Rosy
!
You
are
the
most
unbecoming
companion
.
"
"
Oh
no
!
No
one
thinks
of
your
appearance
,
you
are
so
sensible
and
useful
,
Mary
.
Beauty
is
of
very
little
consequence
in
reality
,
"
said
Rosamond
,
turning
her
head
towards
Mary
,
but
with
eyes
swerving
towards
the
new
view
of
her
neck
in
the
glass
.
"
You
mean
my
beauty
,
"
said
Mary
,
rather
sardonically
.
Rosamond
thought
,
"
Poor
Mary
,
she
takes
the
kindest
things
ill
.
"
Aloud
she
said
,
"
What
have
you
been
doing
lately
?
"
"
I
?
Oh
,
minding
the
house
—
pouring
out
syrup
—
pretending
to
be
amiable
and
contented
—
learning
to
have
a
bad
opinion
of
everybody
.
"
"
It
is
a
wretched
life
for
you
.
"
"
No
,
"
said
Mary
,
curtly
,
with
a
little
toss
of
her
head
.
"
I
think
my
life
is
pleasanter
than
your
Miss
Morgan
’
s
.
"
"
Yes
;
but
Miss
Morgan
is
so
uninteresting
,
and
not
young
.
"
