Белые люди
Chapter V
LeBretonwasthebrilliantmanwiththesadeyes.Hewasstandinglookingatamassofwhite-and-purpleirisattheothersideofthegarden.Thereweretwoorthreepeoplewithhim,butitseemedasifforamomenthehadforgottenthem—hadforgottenwherehewas.Iwonderedsuddenlyifhisdaughterhadbeenfondofirises.Hewaslookingatthemwithsuchatender,lostexpression.Thegirl,whowasalovely,fairthing,wasstandingquiteclosetohimwithherhandinhisarm,andshewassmiling,too—suchasmile!
“Mr.LeBreton!”Mr.MacNairnsaidinaratherstartledtone.“Thegirlwithherhandinhisarm?”
“Yes.Youseehowfairsheis,”Ianswered.
“Andshehasthattransparentlook.Itissolovely.Don’tyouthinkso?SHEisoneoftheWhitePeople.”
Hestoodverystill,lookingacrosstheflowersatthegroup.Therewasasingularinterestandintensityinhisexpression.Hewatchedthepairsilentlyforawholeminute,Ithink.
“Ye-es,”hesaid,slowly,atlast,“Idoseewhatyoumean—anditISlovely.Idon’tseemtoknowherwell.Shemustbeanewfriendofmymother’s.SosheisoneoftheWhitePeople?”
“Shelookslikeawhiteirisherself,doesn’tshe?”Isaid.“Nowyouknow.”
“Yes;nowIknow,”heanswered.
IaskedMrs.MacNairnlaterwhothegirlwas,butshedidn’tseemtorecognizemydescriptionofher.Mr.LeBretonhadgoneawaybythattime,andsohadthegirlherself.
“Thetall,veryfaironeinthemisty,pale-graydress,”Isaid.“ShewasnearMr.LeBretonwhenhewaslookingattheiris-bed
