Фрэнсис Фицджеральд - The Great Gatsby / Великий Гэтсби. Книга для чтения на английском языке

“Myrtle, you’ll give McKee a letter of introduction to your husband, so he can do some studies of him.” Tom’s lips moved silently for a moment as he invented “ George B. Wilson at the Gasoline Pump, or something like that.”

Catherine leaned close to me and whispered in my ear:

“Neither of them can stand the person they’re married to 51 51 neither of them can stand the person they’re married to – они оба терпеть не могут своих супругов .”

“Can’t they?”

“Can’t stand them.” She looked at Myrtle and then at Tom. “What I say is, why go on living with them if they can’t stand them? If I was them I’d get a divorce and get married to each other right away.”

“Doesn’t she like Wilson either?”

The answer to this was unexpected. It came from Myrtle, who had overheard the question, and it was violent and rude.

“You see,” cried Catherine triumphantly. She lowered her voice again. “It’s really his wife who is in their way. She’s a Catholic, and they don’t believe in divorce.”

Daisy was not a Catholic, and I was a little shocked at the elaborateness of the lie.

“When they do get married,” continued Catherine, “they’re going West to live for a while until it blows over.”

“It would be more sensible to go to Europe.”

“Oh, do you like Europe?” she asked surprisingly. “I just got back from Monte Carlo. I went over there with another girl. We had over twelve hundred dollars when we started, but we lost all money in two days in the private game rooms. We had an awful time getting back, I can tell you.”

The late afternoon sky bloomed in the window for a moment like the blue honey of the Mediterranean 52 52 blue honey of the Mediterranean – медовая лазурь Средиземного моря – then the high voice of Mrs. McKee called me back into the room.

“I almost made a mistake, too,” she continued energetically. “I almost married a little kike 53 53 kike – неуважительное прозвище евреев who’d been after me for years. I knew he was below me. But if I hadn’t met Chester, he could be my husband now.”

“Well, I married him,” said Myrtle, ambiguously. “And that’s the difference between your case and mine.”

“Why did you, Myrtle?” asked Catherine. “Nobody forced you to.”

“I married him because I thought he was a gentleman,” she answered. “I thought he knew something about good manners but he wasn’t fit to lick my shoe 54 54 he wasn’t fit to lick my shoe – он мне и в подметки не годился .”

“You were crazy about him for a while,” said Catherine.

“Crazy about him!” cried Myrtle with anger. “Who said I was crazy about him? I never was any more crazy about him than I was about that man there.”

She pointed suddenly at me, and everyone looked at me accusingly. I tried to show by my expression that I had played no part in her past.

“The only crazy I was when I married him. I knew right away I made a mistake. He borrowed somebody’s best suit to get married in, and never even told me about it, and the man came to get it back one day when he was out.” She looked around to see who was listening. “ ‘Oh, is that your suit?’ I said. This is the first I ever heard about it. But I gave it to him and then I lay down and cried so much all afternoon.”

“She really ought to get away from him,” told me Catherine. “They’ve been living over that garage for eleven years. And Tom’s the first sweetie she ever had.”

The bottle of whiskey – a second one – was now constantly wanted by all present people, excepting Catherine, who “felt just as good on nothing at all.” Tom rang for the janitor and sent him for some famous sandwiches, which were a complete supper in themselves. I wanted to get out and walk eastward toward the Park through the soft twilight, but each time I tried to go I became involved in some wild argument which pulled me back into my chair.

Myrtle sat close to me, and suddenly her warm breath told me the story of her first meeting with Tom.

“It was on the two little seats facing each other that are always the last ones left on the train. 55 55 It was on the two little seats facing each other that are always the last ones left on the train. – Мы сидели в вагоне друг против друга, на боковых местах у выхода, которые всегда занимают в последнюю очередь. I was going up to New York to see my sister and spend the night. He had on a dress suit and leather shoes, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off him, but every time he looked at me I had to pretend to be looking at the advertisement over his head. When we came into the station he was next to me, and his white shirt-front pressed against my arm, and so I told him I’d have to call policeman, but he knew I lied. I was so excited that when I got into a taxi with him I didn’t hardly know I wasn’t getting into a subway train. All I kept thinking about, over and over, was ‘You can’t live forever; you can’t live forever.’ ”

She turned to Mrs. McKee and the room rang full of her artificial laughter.

“My dear,” she cried, “I’m going to give you this dress as soon as I’m tired of it. I’ve got to get another one tomorrow. I’m going to make a list of all the things I’ve got to get. A massage and a hair wave, and a collar for the dog, and a wreath with black silk flowers for mother’s grave that’ll last all summer. I got to write down a list so I won’t forget all the things I got to do.”

It was nine o’clock – then I looked at my watch and found it was ten. Mr. McKee was asleep on a chair with his fists on his lap, like a photograph of an important man. The little dog was sitting on the table looking with blind eyes through the smoke, and from time to time groaning weakly. People disappeared, reappeared, made plans to go somewhere, and then lost each other, searched for each other, found each other a few feet away. Some time toward midnight Tom Buchanan and Mrs. Wilson stood face to face, discussing in passionate voices if Mrs. Wilson had any right to mention Daisy’s name.

“Daisy! Daisy! Daisy!” shouted Mrs. Wilson. “I’ll say it whenever I want to! Daisy! Dai —”

Making a short skilled movement, Tom Buchanan broke her nose with his open hand 56 56 Tom Buchanan broke her nose with his open hand – Том Бьюкенен разбил ей нос ребром ладони .

Then there were bloody towels upon the bathroom floor, and women’s voices scolding, and a high voice full of pain over all this noise. Mr. McKee awoke from his sleep and went toward the door. When he had gone halfway he turned around and looked at the scene – his wife and Catherine were scolding and calming Myrtle and constantly stumbling here and there among the crowded furniture. They tried to help despairing figure on the couch, who was bleeding fluently. Then Mr. McKee turned and continued on out the door. Taking my hat, I followed.

“Come to lunch some day,” he suggested, as we went down in the elevator.

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

“All right,” I agreed, “I’ll be glad to.”

…I was standing beside his bed and he was sitting up in his underwear, with a great portfolio in his hands.

“Beauty and the Beast… Loneliness… Old Grocery Horse… Brook’n Bridge 57 57 Brook’n Bridge = Brooklin Bridge – Бруклинский мост, один из старейших висячих мостов в США, его длина составляет 1825 метров …”