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- Теодор Драйзер
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- Стр. 274/332
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"
Berenice
!
Miss
Fleming
!
Please
do
n't
send
me
away
like
this
.
Do
n't
leave
me
.
It
is
n't
anything
I
have
done
,
is
it
?
I
am
mad
about
you
.
I
ca
n't
bear
to
think
that
anything
that
has
happened
could
make
any
difference
between
you
and
me
.
I
have
n't
had
the
courage
to
tell
you
before
,
but
I
want
to
tell
you
now
.
I
have
been
in
love
with
you
from
the
very
first
night
I
saw
you
.
You
are
such
a
wonderful
girl
!
I
do
n't
feel
that
I
deserve
you
,
but
I
love
you
.
I
love
you
with
all
the
honor
and
force
in
me
.
I
admire
and
respect
you
.
Whatever
may
or
may
not
be
true
,
it
is
all
one
and
the
same
to
me
.
Be
my
wife
,
will
you
?
Marry
me
,
please
!
Oh
,
I
'm
not
fit
to
be
the
lacer
of
your
shoes
,
but
I
have
position
and
I
'll
make
a
name
for
myself
,
I
hope
.
Oh
,
Berenice
!
"
He
extended
his
arms
in
a
dramatic
fashion
,
not
outward
,
but
downward
,
stiff
and
straight
,
and
declared
:
"
I
do
n't
know
what
I
shall
do
without
you
.
Is
there
no
hope
for
me
at
all
?
"
An
artist
in
all
the
graces
of
sex
--
histrionic
,
plastic
,
many-faceted
--
Berenice
debated
for
the
fraction
of
a
minute
what
she
should
do
and
say
.
She
did
not
love
the
Lieutenant
as
he
loved
her
by
any
means
,
and
somehow
this
discovery
concerning
her
mother
shamed
her
pride
,
suggesting
an
obligation
to
save
herself
in
one
form
or
another
,
which
she
resented
bitterly
.
She
was
sorry
for
his
tactless
proposal
at
this
time
,
although
she
knew
well
enough
the
innocence
and
virtue
of
the
emotion
from
which
it
sprung
.
"
Really
,
Mr.
Braxmar
,
"
she
replied
,
turning
on
him
with
solemn
eyes
,
you
must
n't
ask
me
to
decide
that
now
.
I
know
how
you
feel
.
I
'm
afraid
,
though
,
that
I
may
have
been
a
little
misleading
in
my
manner
.
I
did
n't
mean
to
be
.
I
'm
quite
sure
you
'd
better
forget
your
interest
in
me
for
the
present
anyhow
.
I
could
only
make
up
my
mind
in
one
way
if
you
should
insist
.
I
should
have
to
ask
you
to
forget
me
entirely
.
I
wonder
if
you
can
see
how
I
feel
--
how
it
hurts
me
to
say
this
?
"
She
paused
,
perfectly
poised
,
yet
quite
moved
really
,
as
charming
a
figure
as
one
would
have
wished
to
see
--
part
Greek
,
part
Oriental
--
contemplative
,
calculating
.
In
that
moment
,
for
the
first
time
,
Braxmar
realized
that
he
was
talking
to
some
one
whom
he
could
not
comprehend
really
.
She
was
strangely
self-contained
,
enigmatic
,
more
beautiful
perhaps
because
more
remote
than
he
had
ever
seen
her
before
.
In
a
strange
flash
this
young
American
saw
the
isles
of
Greece
,
Cytherea
,
the
lost
Atlantis
,
Cyprus
,
and
its
Paphian
shrine
.
His
eyes
burned
with
a
strange
,
comprehending
luster
;
his
color
,
at
first
high
,
went
pale
.
"
I
ca
n't
believe
you
do
n't
care
for
me
at
all
,
Miss
Berenice
,
"
he
went
on
,
quite
strainedly
.
"
I
felt
you
did
care
about
me
.
But
here
,
"
he
added
,
all
at
once
,
with
a
real
,
if
summoned
,
military
force
,
"
I
wo
n't
bother
you
.
You
do
understand
me
.
You
know
how
I
feel
.
I
wo
n't
change
.
Ca
n't
we
be
friends
,
anyhow
?
"
He
held
out
his
hand
,
and
she
took
it
,
feeling
now
that
she
was
putting
an
end
to
what
might
have
been
an
idyllic
romance
.
"
Of
course
we
can
,
"
she
said
.
"
I
hope
I
shall
see
you
again
soon
.
"
After
he
was
gone
she
walked
into
the
adjoining
room
and
sat
down
in
a
wicker
chair
,
putting
her
elbows
on
her
knees
and
resting
her
chin
in
her
hands
.
What
a
denouement
to
a
thing
so
innocent
,
so
charming
!
And
now
he
was
gone
.
She
would
not
see
him
any
more
,
would
not
want
to
see
him
--
not
much
,
anyhow
.
Life
had
sad
,
even
ugly
facts
.
Oh
yes
,
yes
,
and
she
was
beginning
to
perceive
them
clearly
.
