Скорбь сатаны/The Tribulation of Satan (Мари Корелли). Страница 183 из 279

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"

A

very

strange

illness

!

"

he

said

,

in

the

same

jarring

accents

.

"

Remorse

!

Have

you

never

heard

of

it

,

Geoffrey

?

Neither

medicine

nor

surgery

are

of

any

avail

--

it

is

'

the

worm

that

dieth

not

,

and

the

flame

that

can

not

be

quenched

.

'

Tut

!

--

let

us

not

talk

of

it

--

no

one

can

cure

me

--

no

one

will

!

I

am

past

hope

!

"

"

But

remorse

--

if

you

have

it

,

and

I

can

not

possibly

imagine

why

,

for

you

have

surely

nothing

to

regret

--

is

not

a

physical

ailment

!

"

I

said

wonderingly

.

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"

And

physical

ailments

are

the

only

ones

worth

troubling

about

,

you

think

?

"

he

queried

,

still

smiling

that

strained

and

haggard

smile

--

"

The

body

is

our

chief

care

--

we

cosset

it

,

and

make

much

of

it

,

feed

it

and

pamper

it

,

and

guard

it

from

so

much

as

a

pin-prick

of

pain

if

we

can

--

and

thus

we

flatter

ourselves

that

all

is

well

--

all

must

be

well

!

Yet

it

is

but

a

clay

chrysalis

,

bound

to

split

and

crumble

with

the

growth

of

the

moth-soul

within

--

the

moth

that

flies

with

blind

instinctiveness

straight

into

the

Unknown

,

and

is

dazzled

by

excess

of

light

!

Look

out

here

,

"

--

he

went

on

with

an

abrupt

and

softer

change

of

tone

--

"

Look

out

at

the

dreamful

shadowy

beauty

of

your

gardens

now

!

The

flowers

are

asleep

--

the

trees

are

surely

glad

to

be

disburdened

of

all

the

gaudy

artificial

lamps

that

lately

hung

upon

their

branches

--

there

is

the

young

moon

pillowing

her

chin

on

the

edge

of

a

little

cloud

and

sinking

to

sleep

in

the

west

--

a

moment

ago

there

was

a

late

nightingale

awake

and

singing

.

You

can

feel

the

breath

of

the

roses

from

the

trellis

yonder

!

All

this

is

Nature

's

work

--

and

how

much

fairer

and

sweeter

it

is

now

than

when

the

lights

were

ablaze

and

the

blare

of

band-music

startled

the

small

birds

in

their

downy

nests

!

--

Yet

'

society

'

would

not

appreciate

this

cool

dusk

,

this

happy

solitude

;

--

'

society

'

prefers

a

false

glare

to

all

true

radiance

.

And

what

is

worse

it

tries

to

make

true

things

take

a

second

place

as

adjuncts

to

sham

ones

--

and

there

comes

in

the

mischief

.

"

"

It

is

just

like

you

to

run

down

your

own

indefatigable

labours

in

the

splendid

successes

of

the

day

,

"

--

I

said

laughing

--

"

You

may

call

it

a

'

false

glare

'

if

you

like

,

but

it

has

been

a

most

magnificent

spectacle

--

and

certainly

in

the

way

of

entertainments

it

will

never

be

equalled

or

excelled

.

"

"

It

will

make

you

more

talked

about

than

even

your

'

boomed

'

book

could

do

!

"

said

Lucio

,

eyeing

me

narrowly

.

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"

Not

the

least

doubt

of

that

!

"

I

replied

--

"

Society

prefers

food

and

amusement

to

any

literature

--

even

the

greatest

.

By-the-by

,

where

are

all

the

'

artistes

,

'

--

the

musicians

and

dancers

?

"

"

Gone

!

"

"

Gone

!

"

I

echoed

amazedly

--

"

Already

!

Good

heavens

!

have

they

had

supper

?

"

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