-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Мари Корелли
-
- Скорбь сатаны
-
- Стр. 194/279
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
Why
do
n't
you
read
Mavis
Clare
's
books
?
"
I
asked
suddenly
--
"
You
told
me
you
admired
her
.
"
"
So
I
do
--
immensely
!
"
she
answered
--
"
I
admire
her
and
wonder
at
her
,
both
together
.
How
that
woman
can
keep
her
child
's
heart
and
child
's
faith
in
a
world
like
this
,
is
more
than
I
can
understand
.
It
is
always
a
perfect
marvel
to
me
--
a
sort
of
supernatural
surprise
.
You
ask
me
why
do
n't
I
read
her
books
--
I
do
read
them
--
I
've
read
them
all
over
and
over
again
--
but
she
does
not
write
many
,
and
one
has
to
wait
for
her
productions
longer
than
for
those
of
most
authors
.
When
I
want
to
feel
like
an
angel
,
I
read
Mavis
Clare
--
but
I
more
often
am
inclined
to
feel
the
other
way
,
and
then
her
books
are
merely
so
many
worries
to
me
.
"
"
Worries
?
"
I
echoed
.
"
Yes
.
It
is
worrying
to
find
somebody
believing
in
a
God
when
you
ca
n't
believe
in
Him
--
to
have
beautiful
faiths
offered
to
you
which
you
ca
n't
grasp
--
and
to
know
that
there
is
a
creature
alive
,
a
woman
like
yourself
in
everything
except
mind
,
who
is
holding
fast
a
happiness
which
you
can
never
attain
--
no
,
not
though
you
held
out
praying
hands
day
and
night
and
shouted
wild
appeals
to
the
dull
heavens
!
"
At
that
moment
she
looked
like
a
queen
of
tragedy
--
her
violet
eyes
ablaze
--
her
lips
apart
--
her
breast
heaving
;
--
--
I
approached
her
with
a
strange
nervous
hesitation
and
touched
her
hand
.
She
gave
it
to
me
passively
--
I
drew
it
through
my
arm
,
and
for
a
minute
or
two
we
paced
silently
up
and
down
the
gravel
walk
.
The
lights
from
the
monster
hotel
which
catered
for
us
and
our
wants
,
were
beginning
to
twinkle
from
basement
to
roof
--
and
just
above
the
châlet
we
rented
,
a
triad
of
stars
sparkled
in
the
shape
of
a
trefoil
.
"
Poor
Geoffrey
!
"
she
said
presently
,
with
a
quick
upward
glance
at
me
--
"
I
am
sorry
for
you
!
With
all
my
vagaries
of
disposition
I
am
not
a
fool
,
and
at
anyrate
I
have
learned
how
to
analyse
myself
as
well
as
others
.
I
read
you
as
easily
as
I
read
a
book
--
I
see
what
a
strange
tumult
your
mind
is
in
!
You
love
me
--
and
you
loathe
me
!
--
and
the
contrast
of
emotion
makes
a
wreck
of
you
and
your
ideals
.
Hush
--
do
n't
speak
;
I
know
--
I
know
!
But
what
would
you
have
me
be
?
An
angel
?
I
can
not
realize
such
a
being
for
more
than
a
fleeting
moment
of
imagination
.
A
saint
?
They
were
all
martyred
.
A
good
woman
?
I
never
met
one
.
Innocent
?
--
ignorant
?
I
told
you
before
we
married
that
I
was
neither
;
there
is
nothing
left
for
me
to
discover
as
far
as
the
relations
between
men
and
women
are
concerned
--
I
have
taken
the
measure
of
the
inherent
love
of
vice
in
both
sexes
.
There
is
not
a
pin
to
choose
between
them
--
men
are
no
worse
than
women
--
women
no
worse
than
men
.
I
have
discovered
everything
--
except
God
!
--
and
I
conclude
no
God
could
ever
have
designed
such
a
crazy
and
mean
business
as
human
life
.
"
While
she
thus
spoke
,
I
could
have
fallen
at
her
feet
and
implored
her
to
be
silent
.
For
she
was
,
unknowingly
,
giving
utterance
to
some
of
the
many
thoughts
in
which
I
myself
had
frequently
indulged
--
and
yet
,
from
her
lips
they
sounded
cruel
,
unnatural
,
and
callous
to
a
degree
that
made
me
shrink
from
her
in
fear
and
agony
.
We
had
reached
a
little
grove
of
pines
--
and
here
in
the
silence
and
shadow
I
took
her
in
my
arms
and
stared
disconsolately
upon
the
beauty
of
her
face
.
"
Sibyl
!
"
I
whispered
--
"
Sibyl
,
what
is
wrong
with
us
both
?
How
is
it
that
we
do
not
seem
to
find
the
loveliest
side
of
love
?
--
why
is
it
that
even
in
our
kisses
and
embraces
,
some
impalpable
darkness
comes
between
us
,
so
that
we
anger
or
weary
each
other
when
we
should
be
glad
and
satisfied
?
What
is
it
?
Can
you
tell
?
For
you
know
the
darkness
is
there
!
"
