Лучшие истории о любви / Best love stories

And they were happy; for they had their Art, and they had each other. Flat-dwellers shall confirm my dictum that theirs is the only true happiness. If a home is happy it cannot fit too close.[21 - it cannot fit too close – он не может быть слишком тесным]

Joe was painting in the class of the great Magister. His fees are high; his lessons are light – his high-lights have brought him fame. Delia was studying under Rosenstock – you know his reputation as a disturber of the piano keys.

They were very happy as long as their money lasted.

So is every – but I will not be cynical. Their aims were very clear and defined. Joe was to become capable very soon of turning out pictures that old gentlemen with thin side-whiskers and thick wallets would fight in his studio for the privilege of buying. Delia was to become familiar and then contemptuous with Music, so that when she saw the orchestra seats and boxes unsold she could have sore throat and lobster in a private dining-room and refuse to go on the stage.

But the best, in my opinion, was the home life in the little flat – the ardent, voluble chats after the day’s study; the cozy dinners and fresh, light breakfasts; the interchange of ambitions; the mutual help and inspiration; and – overlook my artlessness – stuffed olives and cheese sandwiches at 11 p.m.

But after a while Art grew weak. Money was lacking to pay Mr. Magister and Herr Rosenstock their prices. When one loves one’s Art no service seems too hard.

So, Delia said she must give music lessons to keep the chafing dish bubbling.[22 - to keep the chafing dish bubbling – чтобы удержаться на плаву]

For two or three days she went out looking for pupils. One evening she came home excited.

“Joe, dear,” she said, joyfully, “I’ve a pupil. And, oh, the loveliest people! General – General A. B. Pinkney’s daughter – on Seventy-first street. Such a splendid house, Joe – you should see the front door! And inside! Oh, Joe, I never saw anything like it before.

“My pupil is his daughter Clementina. I dearly love her already. She’s a delicate thing – dresses always in white; and the sweetest, simplest manners! Only eighteen years old. I’m to give three lessons a week; and, just think, Joe! $5 a lesson. I don’t mind it a bit; for when I get two or three more pupils I can resume my lessons with Herr Rosenstock. Now, smooth out that wrinkle between your brows, dear, and let’s have a nice supper.