Вино из одуванчиков

           HereshewasonabridgelookingintotheclearwatersoftheSeine,andherehewas,suddenly,amomentlater,besideher,lookingdownatthetidesofsummerflowingpast.Hereshewaswithanaperitifinhertalcum-whitefingers,andherehewas,withamazingquickness,bendingtowardhertotapherwineglasswithhis.HisfaceappearedinmirroredhallsatVersailles,oversteamingsmorgasbordsinStockholm,andtheycountedthebarberpolesintheVenicecanals.Thethingsshehaddonealone,theywerenowdoingtogether.

           IthemiddleofAugusttheysatstaringatoneanotheronelateafternoon.

           "Doyourealize,"hesaid,"I’veseenyounearlyeverydayfortwoandahalfweeks?"

           "Impossible!"

           "I’veenjoyeditimmensely."

           "Yes,buttherearesomanyyounggirls..."

           "You’reeverythingtheyarenot—kind,intelligent,witty."

           "Nonsense.Kindnessandintelligencearethepreoccupationsofage.Beingcruelandthoughtlessisfarmorefascinatingwhenyou’retwenty."Shepausedanddrewabreath."Now,I’mgoingtoembarrassyou.Doyourecallthatfirstafternoonwemetinthesodafountain,yousaidthatyouhadhadsomedegreeof—shallwesayaffectionformeatonetime?You’vepurposelyputmeoffonthisbynevermentioningitagain.NowI’mforcedtoaskyoutoexplainthewholeuncomfortablething."

           Hedidn’tseemtoknowwhattosay."That’sembarrassing,"heprotested.

           "Spititout!"

           "Isawyourpictureonce,yearsago."

           "Ineverletmypicturebetaken."