Ночь нежна

Chapter 17

           Itwasnearlysix,thestreetswereinmovement,thebistrosgleamed,thePlacedelaConcordemovedbyinpinkmajestyasthecabturnednorth.

           Theylookedateachotheratlast,murmuringnamesthatwereaspell.Softlythetwonameslingeredontheair,diedawaymoreslowlythanotherwords,othernames,slowerthanmusicinthemind.

           "Idon’tknowwhatcameovermelastnight,"Rosemarysaid."Thatglassofchampagne?I’veneverdoneanythinglikethatbefore."

           "Yousimplysaidyoulovedme."

           "IdoloveyouIcan’tchangethat."ItwastimeforRosemarytocry,soshecriedalittleinherhandkerchief.

           "I’mafraidI’minlovewithyou,"saidDick,"andthat’snotthebestthingthatcouldhappen."

           Againthenamesthentheylurchedtogetherasifthetaxihadswungthem.Herbreastscrushedflatagainsthim,hermouthwasallnewandwarm,ownedincommon.Theystoppedthinkingwithanalmostpainfulrelief,stoppedseeing;theyonlybreathedandsoughteachother.Theywerebothinthegraygentleworldofamildhangoveroffatiguewhenthenervesrelaxinbuncheslikepianostrings,andcracklesuddenlylikewickerchairs.Nervessorawandtendermustsurelyjoinothernerves,lipstolips,breasttobreast....

           Theywerestillinthehappierstageoflove.Theywerefullofbraveillusionsabouteachother,tremendousillusions,sothatthecommunionofselfwithselfseemedtobeonaplanewherenootherhumanrelationsmattered.

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