THE COMPLETE WORKS OF F. SCOTT FITZGERALD. ФрÑнÑÐ¸Ñ Ð¡ÐºÐ¾Ñ‚Ñ‚ ФицджеральдЧитать онлайн книгу.
different.
HE: Odd, you have the same point of view on men that I have on women.
SHE: I’m not really feminine, you know — in my mind.
HE: (Interested) Go on.
SHE: No, you — you go on — you’ve made me talk about myself. That’s against the rules.
HE: Rules?
SHE: My own rules — but you — Oh, Amory, I hear you’re brilliant. The family expects so much of you.
HE: How encouraging!
SHE: Alec said you’d taught him to think. Did you? I didn’t believe any one could.
HE: No. I’m really quite dull.
(He evidently doesn’t intend this to be taken seriously.)
SHE: Liar.
HE: I’m — I’m religious — I’m literary. I’ve — I’ve even written poems.
SHE: Vers libre — splendid! (She declaims.)
“The trees are green,
The birds are singing in the trees,
The girl sips her poison
The bird flies away the girl dies.”
HE: (Laughing) No, not that kind.
SHE: (Suddenly) I like you.
HE: Don’t.
SHE: Modest too —
HE: I’m afraid of you. I’m always afraid of a girl — until I’ve kissed her.
SHE: (Emphatically) My dear boy, the war is over.
HE: So I’ll always be afraid of you.
SHE: (Rather sadly) I suppose you will.
(A slight hesitation on both their parts.)
HE: (After due consideration) Listen. This is a frightful thing to ask.
SHE: (Knowing what’s coming) After five minutes.
HE: But will you — kiss me? Or are you afraid?
SHE: I’m never afraid — but your reasons are so poor.
HE: Rosalind, I really want to kiss you.
SHE: So do I.
(They kiss — definitely and thoroughly.)
HE: (After a breathless second) Well, is your curiosity satisfied?
SHE: Is yours?
HE: No, it’s only aroused.
(He looks it.)
SHE: (Dreamily) I’ve kissed dozens of men. I suppose I’ll kiss dozens more.
HE: (Abstractedly) Yes, I suppose you could — like that.
SHE: Most people like the way I kiss.
HE: (Remembering himself) Good Lord, yes. Kiss me once more, Rosalind.
SHE: No — my curiosity is generally satisfied at one.
HE: (Discouraged) Is that a rule?
SHE: I make rules to fit the cases.
HE: You and I are somewhat alike — except that I’m years older in experience.
SHE: How old are you?
HE: Almost twenty-three. You?
SHE: Nineteen — just.
HE: I suppose you’re the product of a fashionable school.
SHE: No — I’m fairly raw material. I was expelled from Spence — I’ve forgotten why.
HE: What’s your general trend?
SHE: Oh, I’m bright, quite selfish, emotional when aroused, fond of admiration —
HE: (Suddenly) I don’t want to fall in love with you —
SHE: (Raising her eyebrows) Nobody asked you to.
HE: (Continuing coldly) But I probably will. I love your mouth.
SHE: Hush! Please don’t fall in love with my mouth — hair, eyes, shoulders, slippers — but not my mouth. Everybody falls in love with my mouth.
HE: It’s quite beautiful.
SHE: It’s too small.
HE: No it isn’t — let’s see.
(He kisses her again with the same thoroughness.)
SHE: (Rather moved) Say something sweet.
HE: (Frightened) Lord help me.
SHE: (Drawing away) Well, don’t — if it’s so hard.
HE: Shall we pretend? So soon?
SHE: We haven’t the same standards of time as other people.
HE: Already it’s — other people.
SHE: Let’s pretend.
HE: No — I can’t — it’s sentiment.
SHE: You’re not sentimental?
HE: No, I’m romantic — a sentimental person thinks things will last — a romantic person hopes against hope that they won’t. Sentiment is emotional.
SHE: And you’re not? (With her eyes half-closed.) You probably flatter yourself that that’s a superior attitude.
HE: Well — Rosalind, Rosalind, don’t argue — kiss me again.
SHE: (Quite chilly now) No — I have no desire to kiss you.
HE: (Openly taken aback) You wanted to kiss me a minute ago.
SHE: This is now.
HE: I’d better go.
SHE: I suppose so.
(He goes toward the door.)
SHE: Oh!
(He turns.)
SHE: (Laughing) Score — Home Team: One hundred — Opponents: Zero.
(He starts back.)
SHE: (Quickly) Rain — no game.
(He goes out.)
(She goes quietly to the chiffonier, takes out a cigarette-case and hides it in the side drawer of a desk. Her mother enters, notebook in hand.)
MRS. CONNAGE: Good — I’ve been wanting to speak to you alone before we go downstairs.
ROSALIND: Heavens! you frighten me!
MRS. CONNAGE: Rosalind, you’ve been a very expensive proposition.
ROSALIND: (Resignedly) Yes.
MRS. CONNAGE: And you know your father hasn’t what he once had.
ROSALIND: (Making a wry face) Oh, please don’t talk about money.
MRS. CONNAGE: You can’t do anything without it. This is our last year in this house — and unless things change Cecelia won’t have the advantages you’ve had.
ROSALIND: (Impatiently) Well — what is it?
MRS. CONNAGE: So I ask you to please mind me in several things I’ve put down in my notebook. The first one is: don’t disappear with young men. There may be a time when it’s valuable, but at present I want you on the dance-floor where I can find you. There are certain men I want to have you meet and I don’t like finding you in some corner of the conservatory exchanging silliness with any one — or listening to it.
ROSALIND: (Sarcastically)