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- Уильям Сомерсет Моэм
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- Луна и грош
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- Стр. 171/193
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"
I
shall
never
forget
the
evening
I
spent
with
him
.
I
had
not
intended
to
stay
more
than
an
hour
,
but
he
insisted
that
I
should
spend
the
night
.
I
hesitated
,
for
I
confess
I
did
not
much
like
the
look
of
the
mats
on
which
he
proposed
that
I
should
sleep
;
but
I
shrugged
my
shoulders
.
When
I
was
building
my
house
in
the
Paumotus
I
had
slept
out
for
weeks
on
a
harder
bed
than
that
,
with
nothing
to
shelter
me
but
wild
shrubs
;
and
as
for
vermin
,
my
tough
skin
should
be
proof
against
their
malice
.
"
We
went
down
to
the
stream
to
bathe
while
Ata
was
preparing
the
dinner
,
and
after
we
had
eaten
it
we
sat
on
the
verandah
.
We
smoked
and
chatted
.
The
young
man
had
a
concertina
,
and
he
played
the
tunes
popular
on
the
music
-
halls
a
dozen
years
before
.
They
sounded
strangely
in
the
tropical
night
thousands
of
miles
from
civilisation
.
I
asked
Strickland
if
it
did
not
irk
him
to
live
in
that
promiscuity
.
No
,
he
said
;
he
liked
to
have
his
models
under
his
hand
.
Presently
,
after
loud
yawning
,
the
natives
went
away
to
sleep
,
and
Strickland
and
I
were
left
alone
.
I
cannot
describe
to
you
the
intense
silence
of
the
night
.
On
my
island
in
the
Paumotus
there
is
never
at
night
the
complete
stillness
that
there
was
here
.
There
is
the
rustle
of
the
myriad
animals
on
the
beach
,
all
the
little
shelled
things
that
crawl
about
ceaselessly
,
and
there
is
the
noisy
scurrying
of
the
land
-
crabs
.
Now
and
then
in
the
lagoon
you
hear
the
leaping
of
a
fish
,
and
sometimes
a
hurried
noisy
splashing
as
a
brown
shark
sends
all
the
other
fish
scampering
for
their
lives
.
And
above
all
,
ceaseless
like
time
,
is
the
dull
roar
of
the
breakers
on
the
reef
.
But
here
there
was
not
a
sound
,
and
the
air
was
scented
with
the
white
flowers
of
the
night
.
It
was
a
night
so
beautiful
that
your
soul
seemed
hardly
able
to
bear
the
prison
of
the
body
.
You
felt
that
it
was
ready
to
be
wafted
away
on
the
immaterial
air
,
and
death
bore
all
the
aspect
of
a
beloved
friend
.
"
Tiare
sighed
.
"
Ah
,
I
wish
I
were
fifteen
again
.
"
Then
she
caught
sight
of
a
cat
trying
to
get
at
a
dish
of
prawns
on
the
kitchen
table
,
and
with
a
dexterous
gesture
and
a
lively
volley
of
abuse
flung
a
book
at
its
scampering
tail
.
"
I
asked
him
if
he
was
happy
with
Ata
.
"
’
She
leaves
me
alone
,
’
he
said
.
’
She
cooks
my
food
and
looks
after
her
babies
.
She
does
what
I
tell
her
.
She
gives
me
what
I
want
from
a
woman
.
’
"
’
And
do
you
never
regret
Europe
?
Do
you
not
yearn
sometimes
for
the
light
of
the
streets
in
Paris
or
London
,
the
companionship
of
your
friends
,
and
equals
,
que
sais
-
je
?
for
theatres
and
newspapers
,
and
the
rumble
of
omnibuses
on
the
cobbled
pavements
?
’
