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- Джозеф Конрад
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Ha
!
ha
!
No
matter
how
fair
the
woman
,
it
galls
a
little
.
Liberty
,
liberty
.
There
's
more
than
one
kind
!
He
has
said
the
great
word
,
and
son
Gian
'
Battista
is
not
tame
.
"
He
seemed
to
be
instructing
the
motionless
and
scared
Giselle
...
"
A
man
should
not
be
tame
,
"
he
added
,
dogmatically
out
of
the
doorway
.
Her
stillness
and
silence
seemed
to
displease
him
.
"
Do
not
give
way
to
the
enviousness
of
your
sister
's
lot
,
"
he
admonished
her
,
very
grave
,
in
his
deep
voice
.
Presently
he
had
to
come
to
the
door
again
to
call
in
his
younger
daughter
.
It
was
late
.
He
shouted
her
name
three
times
before
she
even
moved
her
head
.
Left
alone
,
she
had
become
the
helpless
prey
of
astonishment
.
She
walked
into
the
bedroom
she
shared
with
Linda
like
a
person
profoundly
asleep
.
That
aspect
was
so
marked
that
even
old
Giorgio
,
spectacled
,
raising
his
eyes
from
the
Bible
,
shook
his
head
as
she
shut
the
door
behind
her
.
She
walked
right
across
the
room
without
looking
at
anything
,
and
sat
down
at
once
by
the
open
window
.
Linda
,
stealing
down
from
the
tower
in
the
exuberance
of
her
happiness
,
found
her
with
a
lighted
candle
at
her
back
,
facing
the
black
night
full
of
sighing
gusts
of
wind
and
the
sound
of
distant
showers
--
a
true
night
of
the
gulf
,
too
dense
for
the
eye
of
God
and
the
wiles
of
the
devil
.
She
did
not
turn
her
head
at
the
opening
of
the
door
.
There
was
something
in
that
immobility
which
reached
Linda
in
the
depths
of
her
paradise
.
The
elder
sister
guessed
angrily
:
the
child
is
thinking
of
that
wretched
Ramirez
.
Linda
longed
to
talk
.
She
said
in
her
arbitrary
voice
,
"
Giselle
!
"
and
was
not
answered
by
the
slightest
movement
.
The
girl
that
was
going
to
live
in
a
palace
and
walk
on
ground
of
her
own
was
ready
to
die
with
terror
.
Not
for
anything
in
the
world
would
she
have
turned
her
head
to
face
her
sister
.
Her
heart
was
beating
madly
.
She
said
with
subdued
haste
--
"
Do
not
speak
to
me
.
I
am
praying
.
"
Linda
,
disappointed
,
went
out
quietly
;
and
Giselle
sat
on
unbelieving
,
lost
,
dazed
,
patient
,
as
if
waiting
for
the
confirmation
of
the
incredible
.
The
hopeless
blackness
of
the
clouds
seemed
part
of
a
dream
,
too
.
She
waited
.
She
did
not
wait
in
vain
.
The
man
whose
soul
was
dead
within
him
,
creeping
out
of
the
ravine
,
weighted
with
silver
,
had
seen
the
gleam
of
the
lighted
window
,
and
could
not
help
retracing
his
steps
from
the
beach
.
On
that
impenetrable
background
,
obliterating
the
lofty
mountains
by
the
seaboard
,
she
saw
the
slave
of
the
San
Tome
silver
,
as
if
by
an
extraordinary
power
of
a
miracle
.
She
accepted
his
return
as
if
henceforth
the
world
could
hold
no
surprise
for
all
eternity
.
