Читать книгу Поворот винта. Уровень 1 / The Turn of the Screw - Генри Джеймс, Henry Foss James - Страница 5

Her turning her back on me wasn’t something that could hurt our relationship. We became closer after I brought little Miles home. I was amazed and emotional when I first saw him. I thought it was strange that such a child could be dismissed from school. When I arrived at the inn[15] to pick him up, he waited for me and I saw his beauty and purity. He was incredibly beautiful and Mrs. Grose agreed. His presence made me forget everything except my deep love for him. He seemed so innocent and sweet that it was impossible to believe anything bad about him. I felt confused when I returned to Bly with him, knowing I had a horrible letter locked in my room. As soon as I had a chance, I told Mrs. Grose that the letter was stupid.

She quickly understood me. “You mean the cruel charge[16]—?”

“I can’t believe it. Look at him!”

“Believe me, miss, I do nothing else! What will you say then?” she asked immediately.

“In response to the letter?” I had made my decision. “Nothing.”

“And to his uncle?”

I was firm[17]. “Nothing.”

“And to the boy himself?”

“Nothing.”

She wiped her mouth with her apron. “Then I’ll support you. We’ll stick together until the end.”

“We’ll stick together!” I said, shaking her hand to make it a promise.

In the first weeks, the days were long. They often gave me my own hour, the time when I was alone before going to bed. I enjoyed this hour the most out of everything in the day. I especially liked it when the sky was getting dark and I could walk in the grounds and enjoy the beauty of the place. It made me feel calm. I felt happy knowing that I was doing what the person who asked me wanted. It brought me even more joy than I expected. I thought I was a special person, and I hoped that others would see it too. Well, I needed to be special because something unusual was about to happen.

One afternoon, during my usual walk, I had a surprising encounter[18]. I used to imagine meeting someone while walking around, and now it felt like a wonderful story coming true. On the first occasion, at the end of a long day in June, I stopped when I saw the house. What shocked me was the feeling that my imagination had become real. He was standing there! But he was high up in the tower that little Flora had shown me on our first morning. This tower, along with another one that looked similar. They were old and unique. However, the person I had imagined didn’t seem most fitting in this place.

I saw a figure in the twilight and it surprised me. I caught my breath twice. I realized that he wasn’t who I thought he was. The figure that faced me was the image that had been in my mind. I had not seen it in Harley Street—I had not seen it anywhere. It made me confused and scared. Everything around us became silent. I tried to figure out who he was, but I couldn’t. I felt wonder and confusion.

The main question, or one of them, is about how long some things have lasted. Well, this thing of mine, believe what you want, lasted while I thought about who was in the house that I didn’t know about— and for how long, most importantly? It lasted while I felt a bit uncomfortable because my job needed me to have no such person. It lasted while this visitor seemed to stare at me and ask a question with his look. We were too far apart to speak, but there was a moment where it would have been right to break the silence. He stood in one of the corners, the one far from the house, looking very straight and had both hands on the ledge[19]. So I saw him as I see the letters on this page; then, after a minute, he slowly moved to the opposite corner, still looking hard at me. Yes, I felt strongly that during this movement, he never took his eyes off me, and I can still see how his hand moved from one part of the ledge to the next. He stopped at the other corner, but not for long, and even as he turned away, he kept looking at me. He turned away; that’s all I knew.