Сборник лучших произведений американской классической литературы. Уровень 4

The room was large and stifling. Daisy went to the mirror and stood with her back to us, fixing her hair.

“It's a great suite,” whispered Jordan respectfully and every one laughed.

“Open another window,” commanded Daisy, without turning around.

“The thing to do is to forget about the heat,” said Tom impatiently. “You make it ten times worse by crabbing about it.”

He unrolled the bottle of whiskey from the towel and put it on the table.

“Why not let her alone, old sport?” remarked Gatsby. “You're the one that wanted to come to town.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Where'd you pick that up – this 'old sport'?”

“Now see here, Tom,” said Daisy, turning around from the mirror, “if you're going to make personal remarks I won't stay here a minute.”

“By the way, Mr. Gatsby, I understand you're an Oxford man.”

“Not exactly.”

“Oh, yes. It was in nineteen-nineteen, I only stayed five months. That's why I can't really call myself an Oxford man.”

Daisy rose, smiling faintly, and went to the table.

“Open the whiskey, Tom,” she ordered. “Then you won't seem so stupid to yourself.”

“Wait a minute,” said Tom, “I want to said Mr. Gatsby some words.”

“Go on,” Gatsby said politely.

“I suppose the latest thing is to sit back and let Mr. Nobody from Nowhere[57 - Mr. Nobody from Nowhere – мистер Невесть Кто, Невесть Откуда] make love to your wife!” “I know I'm not very popular. I don't give big parties.”

Angry as I was[58 - Angry as I was – как я ни был зол.], I was tempted to laugh whenever he opened his mouth.

“I've got something to tell YOU, old sport, – ” began Gatsby. But Daisy interrupted helplessly.

“Please don't! Please let's all go home. Why don't we all go home?”

“That's a good idea.” I got up. “Come on, Tom. Nobody wants a drink.”

“I want to know what Mr. Gatsby has to tell me.”

“Your wife doesn't love you,” said Gatsby. “She's never loved you. She loves me.”

“You must be crazy!” exclaimed Tom automatically.

Gatsby sprang to his feet, vivid with excitement.

“She never loved you, do you hear?” he cried. “She only married you because I was poor and she was tired of waiting for me. It was a terrible mistake, but in her heart she never loved any one except me!”

At this point Jordan and I tried to go but Tom and Gatsby insisted with competitive firmness that we remain – as though neither of them had anything to conceal and it would be a privilege to partake vicariously of their emotions.

“Sit down, Daisy.” Tom's voice groped unsuccessfully for the paternal note. “What's been going on? I want to hear all about it.”

“I told you what's going on,” said Gatsby. “Going on for five years – and you didn't know.”

Tom turned to Daisy sharply.

“You've been seeing this fellow[59 - You've been seeing this fellow – Ты встречалась с этим типом.] for five years?”

“Not seeing,” said Gatsby. “No, we couldn't meet. But both of us loved each other all that time, old sport, and you didn't know. I used to laugh sometimes – ” but there was no laughter in his eyes, “to think that you didn't know.”

“Oh – that's all.” Tom tapped his thick fingers together like a clergyman and leaned back in his chair.

“You're crazy!” he exploded. “I can't speak about what happened five years ago, because I didn't know Daisy then – and I'll be damned if I see how you got within a mile of her unless you brought the groceries to the back door. But all the rest of that's a God Damned lie. Daisy loved me when she married me and she loves me now.”

“No,” said Gatsby, shaking his head.

“She does, though. The trouble is that sometimes she gets foolish ideas in her head and doesn't know what she's doing.” He nodded sagely. “And what's more, I love Daisy too. Once in a while I go off on a spree and make a fool of myself, but I always come back, and in my heart I love her all the time.”

“You're revolting,” said Daisy. She turned to me, and her voice, dropping an octave lower, filled the room with thrilling scorn: “Do you know why we left Chicago? I'm surprised that they didn't treat you to the story of that little spree.”

Gatsby walked over and stood beside her.

“Daisy, that's all over now,” he said earnestly. “It doesn't matter any more. Just tell him the truth – that you never loved him – and it's all wiped out forever.”

She looked at him blindly. “Why, – how could I love him – possibly?”

“You never loved him.”

She hesitated. Her eyes fell on Jordan and me with a sort of appeal, as though she realized at last what she was doing – and as though she had never, all along, intended doing anything at all. But it was done now. It was too late.

“I never loved him,” she said, with perceptible reluctance.

“Not that day I carried you down from the Punch Bowl to keep your shoes dry?” There was a husky tenderness in his tone. “…Daisy?”

“Please don't.” Her voice was cold, but the rancour was gone from it. She looked at Gatsby. “There, Jay,” she said – but her hand as she tried to light a cigarette was trembling. Suddenly she threw the cigarette and the burning match on the carpet.

“Oh, you want too much!” she cried to Gatsby. “I love you now – isn't that enough? I can't help what's past.” She began to sob helplessly. “I did love him once – but I loved you too.”

Gatsby's eyes opened and closed.

“You loved me TOO?” he repeated.

“Even that's a lie,” said Tom savagely. “She didn't know you were alive. Why, – there're things between Daisy and me that you'll never know, things that neither of us can ever forget.”

The words seemed to bite physically into Gatsby.