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Lenina
was
still
sobbing
.
"
Too
awful
,
"
she
kept
repeating
,
and
all
Bernard
’
s
consolations
were
in
vain
.
"
Too
awful
!
That
blood
!
"
She
shuddered
.
"
Oh
,
I
wish
I
had
my
soma
.
"
There
was
the
sound
of
feet
in
the
inner
room
.
Lenina
did
not
move
,
but
sat
with
her
face
in
her
hands
,
unseeing
,
apart
.
Only
Bernard
turned
round
.
The
dress
of
the
young
man
who
now
stepped
out
on
to
the
terrace
was
Indian
;
but
his
plaited
hair
was
straw
?
coloured
,
his
eyes
a
pale
blue
,
and
his
skin
a
white
skin
,
bronzed
.
"
Hullo
.
Good
-
morrow
,
"
said
the
stranger
,
in
faultless
but
peculiar
English
.
"
You
’
re
civilized
,
aren
’
t
you
?
You
come
from
the
Other
Place
,
outside
the
Reservation
?
"
"
Who
on
earth
.
.
.
?
"
Bernard
began
in
astonishment
.
The
young
man
sighed
and
shook
his
head
.
"
A
most
unhappy
gentleman
.
"
And
,
pointing
to
the
bloodstains
in
the
centre
of
the
square
,
"
Do
you
see
that
damned
spot
?
"
he
asked
in
a
voice
that
trembled
with
emotion
.
"
A
gramme
is
better
than
a
damn
,
"
said
Lenina
mechanically
from
behind
her
hands
.
"
I
wish
I
had
my
soma
!
"
"
I
ought
to
have
been
there
,
"
the
young
man
went
on
.
"
Why
wouldn
’
t
they
let
me
be
the
sacrifice
?
I
’
d
have
gone
round
ten
times
–
twelve
,
fifteen
.
Palowhtiwa
only
got
as
far
as
seven
.
They
could
have
had
twice
as
much
blood
from
me
.
The
multitudinous
seas
incarnadine
.
"
He
flung
out
his
arms
in
a
lavish
gesture
;
then
,
despairingly
,
let
them
fall
again
.
"
But
they
wouldn
’
t
let
me
.
They
disliked
me
for
my
complexion
.
It
’
s
always
been
like
that
.
Always
.
"
Tears
stood
in
the
young
man
’
s
eyes
;
he
was
ashamed
and
turned
away
.
