Риф, или Там, где разбивается счастье

IX

           Shehadcometomeetherstep-son,whowaslikelytobereturningatthathourfromanafternoon’sshootinginoneofthemoredistantplantations,andshecarriedinherhandtheletterwhichhadsentherinsearchofhim;butwithherfirststepoutofthehouseallthoughtofhimhadbeeneffacedbyanotherseriesofimpressions.

           Thesceneaboutherwasknowntosatiety.ShehadseenGivreatallseasonsoftheyear,andforthegreaterpartofeveryyear,sincethefar-offdayofhermarriage;thedaywhen,ostensiblydrivingthroughitsgatesatherhusband’sside,shehadactuallybeencarriedthereonacloudofiris-wingedvisions.

           Thepossibilitieswhichtheplacehadthenrepresentedwerestillvividlypresenttoher.Themerephrase“aFrenchchateau”hadcalleduptoheryouthfulfancyathrongofromanticassociations,poetic,pictorialandemotional;andtheserenefaceoftheoldhouseseatedinitsparkamongthepoplar-borderedmeadowsofmiddleFrance,hadseemed,onherfirstsightofit,toholdouttoherafateasnobleanddignifiedasitsownmien.

           Thoughshecouldstillcallupthatphaseoffeelingithadlongsincepassed,andthehousehadforatimebecometohertheverysymbolofnarrownessandmonotony.

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