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- Стр. 18/69
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In
these
mysterious
moods
I
did
not
like
her
.
I
experienced
a
strange
tumultuous
excitement
that
was
pleasurable
,
ever
and
anon
,
mingled
with
a
vague
sense
of
fear
and
disgust
.
I
had
no
distinct
thoughts
about
her
while
such
scenes
lasted
,
but
I
was
conscious
of
a
love
growing
into
adoration
,
and
also
of
abhorrence
.
This
I
know
is
paradox
,
but
I
can
make
no
other
attempt
to
explain
the
feeling
.
I
now
write
,
after
an
interval
of
more
than
ten
years
,
with
a
trembling
hand
,
with
a
confused
and
horrible
recollection
of
certain
occurrences
and
situations
,
in
the
ordeal
through
which
I
was
unconsciously
passing
;
though
with
a
vivid
and
very
sharp
remembrance
of
the
main
current
of
my
story
.
But
,
I
suspect
,
in
all
lives
there
are
certain
emotional
scenes
,
those
in
which
our
passions
have
been
most
wildly
and
terribly
roused
,
that
are
of
all
others
the
most
vaguely
and
dimly
remembered
.
Sometimes
after
an
hour
of
apathy
,
my
strange
and
beautiful
companion
would
take
my
hand
and
hold
it
with
a
fond
pressure
,
renewed
again
and
again
;
blushing
softly
,
gazing
in
my
face
with
languid
and
burning
eyes
,
and
breathing
so
fast
that
her
dress
rose
and
fell
with
the
tumultuous
respiration
.
It
was
like
the
ardor
of
a
lover
;
it
embarrassed
me
;
it
was
hateful
and
yet
over-powering
;
and
with
gloating
eyes
she
drew
me
to
her
,
and
her
hot
lips
traveled
along
my
cheek
in
kisses
;
and
she
would
whisper
,
almost
in
sobs
,
"
You
are
mine
,
you
shall
be
mine
,
you
and
I
are
one
for
ever
.
"
Then
she
has
thrown
herself
back
in
her
chair
,
with
her
small
hands
over
her
eyes
,
leaving
me
trembling
.
"
Are
we
related
,
"
I
used
to
ask
;
"
what
can
you
mean
by
all
this
?
I
remind
you
perhaps
of
someone
whom
you
love
;
but
you
must
not
,
I
hate
it
;
I
do
n't
know
you
--
I
do
n't
know
myself
when
you
look
so
and
talk
so
.
"
She
used
to
sigh
at
my
vehemence
,
then
turn
away
and
drop
my
hand
.
Respecting
these
very
extraordinary
manifestations
I
strove
in
vain
to
form
any
satisfactory
theory
--
I
could
not
refer
them
to
affectation
or
trick
.
It
was
unmistakably
the
momentary
breaking
out
of
suppressed
instinct
and
emotion
.
Was
she
,
notwithstanding
her
mother
's
volunteered
denial
,
subject
to
brief
visitations
of
insanity
;
or
was
there
here
a
disguise
and
a
romance
?
I
had
read
in
old
storybooks
of
such
things
.
What
if
a
boyish
lover
had
found
his
way
into
the
house
,
and
sought
to
prosecute
his
suit
in
masquerade
,
with
the
assistance
of
a
clever
old
adventuress
.
But
there
were
many
things
against
this
hypothesis
,
highly
interesting
as
it
was
to
my
vanity
.
I
could
boast
of
no
little
attentions
such
as
masculine
gallantry
delights
to
offer
.
Between
these
passionate
moments
there
were
long
intervals
of
commonplace
,
of
gaiety
,
of
brooding
melancholy
,
during
which
,
except
that
I
detected
her
eyes
so
full
of
melancholy
fire
,
following
me
,
at
times
I
might
have
been
as
nothing
to
her
.
Except
in
these
brief
periods
of
mysterious
excitement
her
ways
were
girlish
;
and
there
was
always
a
languor
about
her
,
quite
incompatible
with
a
masculine
system
in
a
state
of
health
.
In
some
respects
her
habits
were
odd
.
