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- Шарлотта Бронте
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- Джэйн Эйр
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"
It
seems
to
me
a
splendid
mansion
,
sir
.
"
"
The
glamour
of
inexperience
is
over
your
eyes
,
"
he
answered
;
"
and
you
see
it
through
a
charmed
medium
:
you
can
not
discern
that
the
gilding
is
slime
and
the
silk
draperies
cobwebs
;
that
the
marble
is
sordid
slate
,
and
the
polished
woods
mere
refuse
chips
and
scaly
bark
.
Now
here
"
(
he
pointed
to
the
leafy
enclosure
we
had
entered
)
"
all
is
real
,
sweet
,
and
pure
.
"
He
strayed
down
a
walk
edged
with
box
,
with
apple
trees
,
pear
trees
,
and
cherry
trees
on
one
side
,
and
a
border
on
the
other
full
of
all
sorts
of
old-fashioned
flowers
,
stocks
,
sweet-williams
,
primroses
,
pansies
,
mingled
with
southernwood
,
sweet-briar
,
and
various
fragrant
herbs
.
They
were
fresh
now
as
a
succession
of
April
showers
and
gleams
,
followed
by
a
lovely
spring
morning
,
could
make
them
:
the
sun
was
just
entering
the
dappled
east
,
and
his
light
illumined
the
wreathed
and
dewy
orchard
trees
and
shone
down
the
quiet
walks
under
them
.
"
Jane
,
will
you
have
a
flower
?
"
He
gathered
a
half-blown
rose
,
the
first
on
the
bush
,
and
offered
it
to
me
.
"
Thank
you
,
sir
.
"
"
Do
you
like
this
sunrise
,
Jane
?
That
sky
with
its
high
and
light
clouds
which
are
sure
to
melt
away
as
the
day
waxes
warm
--
this
placid
and
balmly
atmosphere
?
"
"
I
do
,
very
much
.
"
"
You
have
passed
a
strange
night
,
Jane
.
"
"
Yes
,
sir
.
"
