Поворот винта
The Turn of the Screw
”
Hegotupand,ashehaddonethenightbefore,wenttothefire,gaveastirtoalogwithhisfoot,thenstoodamomentwithhisbacktous.“Shesawhimonlytwice.”
“Yes,butthat’sjustthebeautyofherpassion.”
Alittletomysurprise,onthis,Douglasturnedroundtome.“Itwasthebeautyofit.Therewereothers,”hewenton,“whohadn’tsuccumbed.Hetoldherfranklyallhisdifficulty—thatforseveralapplicantstheconditionshadbeenprohibitive.Theywere,somehow,simplyafraid.Itsoundeddull—itsoundedstrange;andallthemoresobecauseofhismaincondition.”
“Whichwas—?”
“Thatsheshouldnevertroublehim—butnever,never:neitherappealnorcomplainnorwriteaboutanything;onlymeetallquestionsherself,receiveallmoneysfromhissolicitor,takethewholethingoverandlethimalone.Shepromisedtodothis,andshementionedtomethatwhen,foramoment,disburdened,delighted,heheldherhand,thankingherforthesacrifice,shealreadyfeltrewarded.”
“Butwasthatallherreward?”oneoftheladiesasked.
“Sheneversawhimagain.”
“Oh!”saidthelady;which,asourfriendimmediatelyleftusagain,wastheonlyotherwordofimportancecontributedtothesubjecttill,thenextnight,bythecornerofthehearth,inthebestchair,heopenedthefadedredcoverofathinold-fashionedgilt-edgedalbum.Thewholethingtookindeedmorenightsthanone,butonthefirstoccasionthesameladyputanotherquestion.“Whatisyourtitle?”
“Ihaven’tone.”
“Oh,Ihave!”Isaid
