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- Эдит Уортон
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“
Ah
,
I
didn
’
t
ask
that
,
”
he
penitently
murmured
.
“
Well
,
then
—
”
To
this
adjuration
he
made
no
response
beyond
that
of
gazing
at
her
with
an
eye
which
seemed
now
to
view
her
as
a
mere
factor
in
an
immense
redistribution
of
meanings
.
“
I
insulted
Flamel
to
-
day
.
I
let
him
see
that
I
suspected
him
of
having
told
you
.
I
hated
him
because
he
knew
about
the
letters
.
”
He
caught
the
spreading
horror
of
her
eyes
,
and
for
an
instant
he
had
to
grapple
with
the
new
temptation
they
lit
up
.
Then
he
said
,
with
an
effort
—
“
Don
’
t
blame
him
—
he
’
s
impeccable
.
He
helped
me
to
get
them
published
;
but
I
lied
to
him
too
;
I
pretended
they
were
written
to
another
man
.
.
.
a
man
who
was
dead
.
.
.
.
”
She
raised
her
arms
in
a
gesture
that
seemed
to
ward
off
his
blows
.
“
You
do
despise
me
!
”
he
insisted
.
“
Ah
,
that
poor
woman
—
that
poor
woman
—
”
he
heard
her
murmur
.
“
I
spare
no
one
,
you
see
!
”
he
triumphed
over
her
.
She
kept
her
face
hidden
.
“
You
do
hate
me
,
you
do
despise
me
!
”
he
strangely
exulted
.
