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- Фрэнсис Скотт Фицджеральд
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Thrill
me
through
--
"
The
violins
swelled
and
quavered
on
the
last
notes
,
the
girl
sank
to
a
crumpled
butterfly
on
the
stage
,
a
great
burst
of
clapping
filled
the
house
.
Oh
,
to
fall
in
love
like
that
,
to
the
languorous
magic
melody
of
such
a
tune
!
The
last
scene
was
laid
on
a
roof-garden
,
and
the
'
cellos
sighed
to
the
musical
moon
,
while
light
adventure
and
facile
froth-like
comedy
flitted
back
and
forth
in
the
calcium
.
Amory
was
on
fire
to
be
an
habitui
of
roof-gardens
,
to
meet
a
girl
who
should
look
like
that
--
better
,
that
very
girl
;
whose
hair
would
be
drenched
with
golden
moonlight
,
while
at
his
elbow
sparkling
wine
was
poured
by
an
unintelligible
waiter
.
When
the
curtain
fell
for
the
last
time
he
gave
such
a
long
sigh
that
the
people
in
front
of
him
twisted
around
and
stared
and
said
loud
enough
for
him
to
hear
:
"
What
a
remarkable-looking
boy
!
"
This
took
his
mind
off
the
play
,
and
he
wondered
if
he
really
did
seem
handsome
to
the
population
of
New
York
.
Paskert
and
he
walked
in
silence
toward
their
hotel
.
The
former
was
the
first
to
speak
.
His
uncertain
fifteen-year-old
voice
broke
in
in
a
melancholy
strain
on
Amory
's
musings
:
"
I
'd
marry
that
girl
to-night
.
"
There
was
no
need
to
ask
what
girl
he
referred
to
.
"
I
'd
be
proud
to
take
her
home
and
introduce
her
to
my
people
,
"
continued
Paskert
.
Amory
was
distinctly
impressed
.
He
wished
he
had
said
it
instead
of
Paskert
.
It
sounded
so
mature
.
