«Великий Гэтсби» и другие лучшие произведения Ф.С. Фицджеральда

’

A breeze stirred the grey haze of Daisy’s fur collar.

�At least they are more interesting than the people we know,’ she said with an effort.

�You didn’t look so interested.’

�Well, I was.’

Tom laughed and turned to me.

�Did you notice Daisy’s face when that girl asked her to put her under a cold shower?’

Daisy began to sing with the music in a husky, rythmic whisper, bringing out a meaning in each word that it had never had before and would never have again. When the melody rose her voice broke up sweetly, following it, in a way contralto voices have, and each change tipped out a little other warm human magic upon the air.

�Lots of people come who haven’t been invited,’ she said suddenly. �That girl hadn’t been invited. They simply force their way in and he’s too polite to object.’

�I’d like to know who he is and what he does,’ insisted Tom. �And I think I’ll make a point of finding out.’

�I can tell you right now,’ she answered.

�He owned some drug-stores, a lot of drug-stores. He built them up himself.’

The dilatory limousine came rolling up the drive.

�Good night, Nick’, said Daisy.

Her glance left me and sought the lighted top of the steps, where �Three o’clock in the Morning,’ a neat, sad little waltz of that year, was drifting out the open door. After all, in the very casualness of Gatsby’s party there were romantic possibilities totally absent from her world. What was it up there in the song that seemed to be calling her back inside? What would happen now in the dim, incalculable hours? Perhaps some unbelievable guest would arrive, a person infinitely rare and to be marveled at, some authentically radiant young girl who with one fresh glance at Gatsby, one moment of magical encounter, would blot out those five years of unwavering devotion.

I stayed late that night, Gatsby asked me to wait until he was free, and I lingered in the garden until the inevitable swimming party had run up, chilled and exalted, from the black beach, until the lights were extinguished in the guest-rooms overhead.

When he came down the steps at last the tanned skin was drawn unusually tight on his face, and his eyes were bright and tired.

�She didn’t like it,’ he said immediately.

�Of course she did.’

�She didn’t like it,’ he insisted. �She didn’t have a good time.’

He was silent, and I guessed at his unutterable depression.