Скорбь сатаны

Chapter 22

           "Good-night!"Irespondedindifferently.

           Helefttheroomwithhisusualcat-likestealthytread,andwhenhehadgone,Imovedbyasuddenfreshimpulseofhatredforhimsprangtothedoorandlockedit.ThenIlistened,withanoddnervousbreathlessness.Therewasnotasound.ForfullyquarterofanhourIremainedwithmyattentionmoreorlessstrained,expectantofIknewnotwhat;butthequietofthehousewasabsolutelyundisturbed.WithasighofreliefIflungmyselfontheluxuriousbedacouchfitforaking,drapedwiththerichestsatinelaboratelyembroideredandfallingsoundlyasleepIdreamedthatIwaspooragain.Poorbutunspeakablyhappyandhardatworkintheoldlodging,writingdownthoughtswhichIknew,bysomedivineintuitionandbeyondalldoubt,wouldbringmethewholeworld’shonour.AgainIheardthesoundsoftheviolinplayedbymyunseenneighbournextdoor,andthistimetheyweretriumphalchordsandcadencesofjoy,withoutonethrobofsorrow.AndwhileIwroteoninanecstasyofinspiration,obliviousofpovertyandpain,Iheard,echoingthroughmyvisions,theroundwarbleofthenightingale,andsaw,inthefardistance,anangelfloatingtowardsmeonpinionsoflight,withthefaceofMavisClare.

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