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- Фрэнсис Скотт Фицджеральд
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Watching
his
father
’
s
struggles
in
poor
parishes
had
wedded
a
desire
for
money
to
an
essentially
unacquisitive
nature
.
It
was
not
a
healthy
necessity
for
security
—
he
had
never
felt
more
sure
of
himself
,
more
thoroughly
his
own
man
,
than
at
the
time
of
his
marriage
to
Nicole
.
Yet
he
had
been
swallowed
up
like
a
gigolo
,
and
somehow
permitted
his
arsenal
to
be
locked
up
in
the
Warren
safety
-
deposit
vaults
.
"
There
should
have
been
a
settlement
in
the
Continental
style
;
but
it
isn
’
t
over
yet
.
I
’
ve
wasted
eight
years
teaching
the
rich
the
ABC
’
s
of
human
decency
,
but
I
’
m
not
done
.
I
’
ve
got
too
many
unplayed
trumps
in
my
hand
.
"
He
loitered
among
the
fallow
rose
bushes
and
the
beds
of
damp
sweet
indistinguishable
fern
.
It
was
warm
for
October
but
cool
enough
to
wear
a
heavy
tweed
coat
buttoned
by
a
little
elastic
tape
at
the
neck
.
A
figure
detached
itself
from
the
black
shape
of
a
tree
and
he
knew
it
was
the
woman
whom
he
had
passed
in
the
lobby
coming
out
.
He
was
in
love
with
every
pretty
woman
he
saw
now
,
their
forms
at
a
distance
,
their
shadows
on
a
wall
.
Her
back
was
toward
him
as
she
faced
the
lights
of
the
town
.
He
scratched
a
match
that
she
must
have
heard
,
but
she
remained
motionless
.
—
Was
it
an
invitation
?
Or
an
indication
of
obliviousness
?
He
had
long
been
outside
of
the
world
of
simple
desires
and
their
fulfillments
,
and
he
was
inept
and
uncertain
.
For
all
he
knew
there
might
be
some
code
among
the
wanderers
of
obscure
spas
by
which
they
found
each
other
quickly
.
—
Perhaps
the
next
gesture
was
his
.
Strange
children
should
smile
at
each
other
and
say
,
"
Let
’
s
play
.
"
He
moved
closer
,
the
shadow
moved
sideways
.
Possibly
he
would
be
snubbed
like
the
scapegrace
drummers
he
had
heard
of
in
youth
.
His
heart
beat
loud
in
contact
with
the
unprobed
,
undissected
,
unanalyzed
,
unaccounted
for
.
Suddenly
he
turned
away
,
and
,
as
he
did
,
the
girl
,
too
,
broke
the
black
frieze
she
made
with
the
foliage
,
rounded
a
bench
at
a
moderate
but
determined
pace
and
took
the
path
back
to
the
hotel
.
With
a
guide
and
two
other
men
,
Dick
started
up
the
Birkkarspitze
next
morning
.
It
was
a
fine
feeling
once
they
were
above
the
cowbells
of
the
highest
pastures
—
Dick
looked
forward
to
the
night
in
the
shack
,
enjoying
his
own
fatigue
,
enjoying
the
captaincy
of
the
guide
,
feeling
a
delight
in
his
own
anonymity
.
But
at
mid
-
day
the
weather
changed
to
black
sleet
and
hail
and
mountain
thunder
.
Dick
and
one
of
the
other
climbers
wanted
to
go
on
but
the
guide
refused
.
Regretfully
they
struggled
back
to
Innsbruck
to
start
again
to
-
morrow
.
After
dinner
and
a
bottle
of
heavy
local
wine
in
the
deserted
dining
-
room
,
he
felt
excited
,
without
knowing
why
,
until
he
began
thinking
of
the
garden
.
