Скорбь сатаны / The sorrows of Satan. Уровень 4

A very questionable play, about the �woman with the past’. I felt disgusted at the performance and looked at my companions. There was no sign of disapproval on Lady Sibyl’s fair countenance. Her father was bending forward eagerly.

“England has progressed!” said Rimanez.

“But, these women you know,” exclaimed Lord Elton, “these poor souls with a past – are very interesting!”

“Very!” murmured his daughter. “In fact it seems that for women with no such �past’ there can be no future! Virtue and modesty are quite out of date.

”

I leaned towards her, half whispering,

“Lady Sibyl, I am glad to see this wretched play offends you.”

She turned her deep eyes on me in mingled surprise and amusement.

“Oh no, it doesn’t,” she declared. “I have seen so many like it. And I have read so many novels on just the same theme! I assure you, I am quite convinced that the so-called �bad’ woman is the only popular type with men. She gets all the enjoyment possible out of life, she frequently makes an excellent marriage.

It is quite a mistake for women to be respectable, – they are dull.”

“Ah, now you are only joking!” I said with an indulgent smile. “You know that in your heart you think very differently!”

She made no answer, as just then the curtain went up again. At that very instant she turned to me and said,

“You are the famous Mr. Tempest, are you not?”

“Famous?” I echoed with a deep sense of gratification.

“Well, I am scarcely that, yet! My book is not published.”

Her eyebrows arched themselves surprisedly.

“Your book? I did not know you had written one. When I asked if you were the famous Mr. Tempest, I meant to say were you the great millionaire.”

I bowed.

“How delightful it must be for you to have so much money!” she said. “And you are young too, and good-looking.”

I smiled.

“You are very kind, Lady Sibyl!”

“Why?” she asked laughing, such a delicious low laugh.

“Because I tell you the truth? You are young and you are good-looking! Millionaires are generally such appalling creatures. And now tell me about your book!”

The performance was over. We all left the box together. Lucio and I raised our hats in farewell, and the Elton equipage rolled away. As we drove off, Lucio peered inquisitively at me and said,

“Well?”

I was silent.

“Don’t you admire her?” he went on.