The Beautiful and Damned
книга

The Beautiful and Damned

Автор: Francis Fitzgerald

Форматы: PDF

Серия:

Издательство: Пальмира|Книга по Требованию

Год: 2017

Место издания: Санкт-Петербург | Москва

ISBN: 978-5-521-00190-3

Страниц: 282

Артикул: 12188

Возрастная маркировка: 12+

Электронная книга
99

Содержание книги "The Beautiful and Damned"


Book One
I. Anthony Patch
II. Portrait of a Siren
III. The Connoisseur of Kisses
Book Two
I. The Radiant Hour
II. Symposium
III. The Broken Lute
Book Three
I. A Matter of Civilization
II. A Matter of Aesthetics
III. No Matter!

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At one time some gossamer difference attained such bulk that Anthony arose and punched himself into his overcoat—for a moment it appeared that the scene of the preceding February was to be repeated, but knowing how deeply she was moved he retained his dignity with his pride, and in a moment Gloria was sobbing in his arms, her lovely face miserable as a frightened little girl's. Meanwhile they kept unfolding to each other, unwillingly, by curious reactions and evasions, by distastes and prejudices and unintended hints of the past. The girl was proudly incapable of jealousy and, because he was extremely jealous, this virtue piqued him. He told her recondite incidents of his own life on purpose to arouse some spark of it, but to no avail. She possessed him now—nor did she desire the dead years. "Oh, Anthony," she would say, "always when I'm mean to you I'm sorry afterward. I'd give my right hand to save you one little moment's pain." And in that instant her eyes were brimming and she was not aware that she was voicing an illusion. Yet Anthony knew that there were days when they hurt each other purposely—taking almost a delight in the thrust. Incessantly she puzzled him: one hour so intimate and charming, striving desperately toward an unguessed, transcendent union; the next, silent and cold, apparently unmoved by any consideration of their love or anything he could say. Often he would eventually trace these portentous reticences to some physical discomfort—of these she never complained until they were over—or to some carelessness or presumption in him, or to an unsatisfactory dish at dinner, but even then the means by which she created the infinite distances she spread about herself were a mystery, buried somewhere back in those twenty-two years of unwavering pride. "Why do you like Muri...