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- Теодор Драйзер
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- Американская трагедия
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- Стр. 308/598
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And
then
the
next
day
at
noon
,
Gun
Lodge
and
Big
Bittern
itself
and
Clyde
climbing
down
from
the
train
at
Gun
Lodge
and
escorting
Roberta
to
the
waiting
bus
,
the
while
he
assured
her
that
since
they
were
coming
back
this
way
,
it
would
be
best
if
she
were
to
leave
her
bag
here
,
while
he
,
because
of
his
camera
as
well
as
the
lunch
done
up
at
Grass
Lake
and
crowded
into
his
suitcase
,
would
take
his
own
with
him
,
because
they
would
lunch
on
the
lake
.
But
on
reaching
the
bus
,
he
was
dismayed
by
the
fact
that
the
driver
was
the
same
guide
whom
he
had
heard
talk
at
Big
Bittern
.
What
if
it
should
prove
now
that
this
guide
had
seen
and
remembered
him
!
Would
he
not
at
least
recall
the
handsome
Finchley
car
--
Bertine
and
Stuart
on
the
front
seat
--
himself
and
Sondra
at
the
back
--
Grant
and
that
Harley
Baggott
talking
to
him
outside
?
At
once
that
cold
perspiration
that
had
marked
his
more
nervous
and
terrified
moods
for
weeks
past
,
now
burst
forth
on
his
face
and
hands
.
Of
what
had
he
been
thinking
,
anyhow
?
How
planning
?
In
God
's
name
,
how
expect
to
carry
a
thing
like
this
through
,
if
he
were
going
to
think
so
poorly
?
It
was
like
his
failing
to
wear
his
cap
from
Lycurgus
to
Utica
,
or
at
least
getting
it
out
of
his
bag
before
he
tried
to
buy
that
straw
hat
;
it
was
like
not
buying
the
straw
hat
before
he
went
to
Utica
at
all
.
Yet
the
guide
did
not
remember
him
,
thank
God
!
On
the
contrary
he
inquired
rather
curiously
,
and
as
of
a
total
stranger
:
"
Goin
'
over
to
the
lodge
at
Big
Bittern
?
First
time
up
here
?
"
And
Clyde
,
enormously
relieved
and
yet
really
tremulous
,
replied
:
"
Yes
,
"
and
then
in
his
nervous
excitement
asked
:
"
Many
people
over
there
to
-
day
?
"
a
question
which
the
moment
he
had
propounded
it
,
seemed
almost
insane
.
Why
,
why
,
of
all
questions
,
should
he
ask
that
?
Oh
,
God
,
would
his
silly
,
self-destructive
mistakes
never
cease
?
So
troubled
was
he
indeed
,
now
,
that
he
scarcely
heard
the
guide
's
reply
,
or
,
if
at
all
,
as
a
voice
speaking
from
a
long
way
off
.
"
Not
so
many
.
About
seven
or
eight
,
I
guess
.
We
did
have
about
thirty
over
the
Fourth
,
but
most
o
'
them
went
down
yesterday
.
"
The
stillness
of
these
pines
lining
this
damp
yellow
road
along
which
they
were
traveling
;
the
cool
and
the
silence
;
the
dark
shadows
and
purple
and
gray
depths
and
nooks
in
them
,
even
at
high
noon
.
If
one
were
slipping
away
at
night
or
by
day
,
who
would
encounter
one
here
?
A
blue-jay
far
in
the
depths
somewhere
uttered
its
metallic
shriek
;
a
field
sparrow
,
tremulous
upon
some
distant
twig
,
filled
the
silver
shadows
with
its
perfect
song
.
And
Roberta
,
as
this
heavy
,
covered
bus
crossed
rill
and
thin
stream
,
and
then
rough
wooden
bridges
here
and
there
,
commented
on
the
clarity
and
sparkle
of
the
water
:
"
Is
n't
that
wonderful
in
there
?
Do
you
hear
the
tinkling
of
that
water
,
Clyde
?
Oh
,
the
freshness
of
this
air
!
"
And
yet
she
was
going
to
die
so
soon
!
God
!
But
supposing
now
,
at
Big
Bittern
--
the
lodge
and
boathouse
there
--
there
were
many
people
.
Or
that
the
lake
,
peradventure
,
was
literally
dotted
with
those
that
were
there
--
all
fishermen
and
all
fishing
here
and
there
,
each
one
separate
and
alone
--
no
privacy
or
a
deserted
spot
anywhere
.
And
how
strange
he
had
not
thought
of
that
.
This
lake
was
probably
not
nearly
as
deserted
as
he
had
imagined
,
or
would
not
be
to-day
,
any
more
than
Grass
Lake
had
proved
.
And
then
what
?
