Поворот винта

           ”

           Ican’tnametheexquisitepathosofthecontradictiongiventosuchaspeechbysuchaspeaker;IonlyknowthatthenextinstantIheardmyselfthrowoffwithhomelyforce:“Stuffandnonsense!”ButthenextafterthatImusthavesoundedsternenough.“Whatwerethesethings?”

           Mysternnesswasallforhisjudge,hisexecutioner;yetitmadehimaverthimselfagain,andthatmovementmademe,withasingleboundandanirrepressiblecry,springstraightuponhim.Forthereagain,againsttheglass,asiftoblighthisconfessionandstayhisanswer,wasthehideousauthorofourwoe—thewhitefaceofdamnation.Ifeltasickswimatthedropofmyvictoryandallthereturnofmybattle,sothatthewildnessofmyveritableleaponlyservedasagreatbetrayal.Isawhim,fromthemidstofmyact,meetitwithadivination,andontheperceptionthatevennowheonlyguessed,andthatthewindowwasstilltohisowneyesfree,Ilettheimpulseflameuptoconverttheclimaxofhisdismayintotheveryproofofhisliberation.“Nomore,nomore,nomore!”Ishrieked,asItriedtopresshimagainstme,tomyvisitant.

           “Isshehere?”Milespantedashecaughtwithhissealedeyesthedirectionofmywords.Thenashisstrange“she”staggeredmeand,withagasp,Iechoedit,“MissJessel,MissJessel!”hewithasuddenfurygavemeback.

           Iseized,stupefied,hissupposition—somesequeltowhatwehaddonetoFlora,butthismademeonlywanttoshowhimthatitwasbetterstillthanthat