The Great Gatsby. Адаптированная книга для чтения на английском языке. Уровень B1. Фрэнсис Скотт ФицджеральдЧитать онлайн книгу.
href="#n_13" type="note">[13]», I answered shortly. «You will if you stay in the East».
«Oh, I’ll stay in the East, don’t worry», he said, glancing at Daisy and then back at me. «I’d be a fool to live anywhere else».
At this point Miss Baker said: «Absolutely!» with such suddenness that I started – it was the first word she uttered since I came into the room. She yawned and stood up.
«I’m stiff», she complained, «I’ve been lying on that sofa for as long as I can remember».
«Don’t look at me», Daisy said, «I’ve been trying to get you to New York all afternoon».
I enjoyed looking at Miss Baker. She was a slender, small breasted girl, keeping her back straight. Her gray eyes looked back at me with polite curiosity. It occurred to me now that I had seen her, or a picture of her, somewhere before.
«You live in West Egg», she remarked contemptuously. «I know somebody there».
«I don’t know a single…»
«You must know Gatsby».
«Gatsby?» asked Daisy. «What Gatsby?»
Before I could reply that he was my neighbor dinner was announced; Tom Buchanan compelled me from the room as if he were moving a checker to another square.
The two young women preceded us out onto a rosy-colored porch, open toward the sunset.
«We ought to plan something», yawned Miss Baker, sitting down at the table as if she were getting into bed.
«All right», said Daisy. «What’ll we plan?» She turned to me helplessly: «What do people plan?»
Before I could answer she looked with a frightened expression at her little finger.
«Look!» she complained; «I hurt it».
We all looked – the knuckle was black and blue.
«You did it, Tom», she said accusingly. «That’s what I get for marrying a brute, a great, big, hulking physical specimen ofa…»
«I hate that word hulking», objected Tom crossly, «even in kidding».[14]
«Hulking», insisted Daisy.
Sometimes she and Miss Baker talked at once, but it was an uneasy talk. They were here, and they accepted Tom and me, making only a polite pleasant effort to entertain or to be entertained. They knew that presently dinner would be over and a little later the evening too would be over and casually put away. It was sharply different from the West, where an evening was hurried from phase to phase toward its close.
«You make me feel uncivilized, Daisy», I confessed on my second glass of red wine. «Can’t you talk about crops or something?»
I meant nothing in particular by this remark, but it was taken up in an unexpected way.
«Civilization’s going to pieces», said Tom. «I am a terrible pessimist about things now. Have you read ‘The Rise of the Colored Empires’ by Goddard?»
«Why, no», I answered, rather surprised by his tone.
«Well, it’s a fine book, and everybody ought to read it. The idea is if we don’t look out the white race will disappear. It’s all scientific stuff; it’s been proved».
«Tom’s getting very thoughtful», said Daisy sadly. «He reads deep books with long words in them».
«Well, these books are all scientific», insisted Tom, glancing at her impatiently. «It’s up to us, who are the dominant race, to watch out or these other races will have control of things».
«We’ve got to beat them down», whispered Daisy.
«You ought to live in California…» began Miss Baker, but Tom interrupted her by shifting heavily in his chair.
«This idea is that we’re Nordics. I am, and you are, and you are, and…» After some hesitation he included Daisy with a slight nod, and she winked at me. «– And we’ve produced all the things that go to make civilization – oh, science and art, and all that. Do you see?»
There was something pathetic in his concentration. Then, almost immediately, the telephone rang inside and the butler left the porch.
Soon the butler came back and murmured something close to Tom’s ear. Tom frowned, pushed back his chair, and without a word went inside.
Suddenly Daisy threw her napkin on the table and excused herself and went into the house.
Miss Baker and I exchanged a short glance. I was about to speak when she sat up alertly and said «Sh!» in a warning voice. A subdued passionate murmur was clear in the room beyond, and Miss Baker leaned forward unashamed, trying to hear.
«This Mr. Gatsby is my neighbor», I said.
«Don’t talk. I want to hear what happens».
«Is something happening?» I said innocently.
«You mean to say you don’t know?» said Miss Baker, honestly surprised. «I thought everybody knew».
«I don’t».
«Why…» she said hesitantly, «Tom’s got some woman in New York».
«Got some woman?» I repeated.
Miss Baker nodded.
«She might have the decency not to telephone him at dinner time. Don’t you think?»
Almost at once Tom and Daisy were back at the table.
«It couldn’t be helped![15]» cried Daisy with tense gaiety.
She sat down, glanced at Miss Baker and then at me, and continued: «I looked outdoors for a minute, and it’s very romantic outdoors. There’s a bird on the lawn that I think must be a nightingale. His song is so beautiful!» Her voice sang: «It’s romantic, isn’t it, Tom?»
«Very romantic», he said.
The telephone rang inside, and Daisy shook her head decisively at Tom. Among the broken fragments of the last five minutes at table I was conscious of wanting to look directly at every one, and yet to avoid all eyes.
Tom and Miss Baker, with several feet of twilight between them, strolled back into the library. Trying to look pleasantly interested and a little deaf, I followed Daisy around a chain of connecting verandas to the porch in front. In its deep gloom we sat down side by side on a bamboo bench.
Daisy took her face in her hands, and her eyes moved gradually out into the velvet dusk. I saw that turbulent emotions possessed her, so I asked what I thought would be some sedative questions about her little girl.
«We don’t know each other very well, Nick», she said suddenly. «Even if we are cousins. You didn’t come to my wedding».
«I wasn’t back from the war».
«That’s true». She hesitated. «Well, I’ve had a very bad time, Nick, and I’m pretty cynical about everything».
Obviously she had reason to be. I waited but she didn’t say any more, and after a moment I returned to the subject of her daughter.
«I suppose she talks, and – eats, and everything».
«Oh, yes». She looked at me absently. «Listen, Nick; let me tell you what I said when she was born. Would you like to hear?»
«Very much».
«Well, she was less than an hour old and Tom was God knows where. I woke up out of the ether with an absolutely abandoned feeling, and asked the nurse if it was a boy or a girl. She told me it was a girl, and so I turned my head away and wept. ‘All right,’ I said, ‘I’m glad it’s a girl. And I hope she’ll be a fool – that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool».
«You see I think everything’s terrible», she went on in a convinced way. «Everybody thinks so – the most advanced people. And I KNOW. I’ve
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