Tender is the Night / Ночь нежна. Фрэнсис Скотт Фицджеральд

of her and rubbed her face in the sand. We were shocked. I wanted Dick to interfere.”

      “I think,” said Dick Diver, staring down abstractedly at the straw mat, “that I’ll go over and invite them to dinner.”

      “No, you won’t,” Nicole told him quickly.

      “I think it would be a very good thing. They’re here – let’s adjust ourselves[31].”

      “I’m not going to have MY nose rubbed in the sand,” she insisted, laughing. “I’m a mean, hard woman,” she explained to Rosemary, and then raising her voice, “Children, put on your bathing suits!”

      Nicole handed her husband the curious garment on which she had been working. He went into the dressing tent and caused a commotion by appearing in a moment wearing transparent black lace drawers. Close inspection showed that actually they were lined with flesh-colored cloth.

      “Well, if that isn’t a pansy’s trick[32]!” exclaimed Mr. McKisco contemptuously – then turning quickly to Mr. Dumphry and Mr. Campion, he added, “Oh, I beg your pardon.”

      Rosemary was delighted with the trunks. She admired the expensive simplicity of the Divers. She stood with them as they took sherry and ate crackers. Dick Diver looked at her with cold blue eyes; his kind, strong mouth said thoughtfully and deliberately:

      “You’re the only girl I’ve seen for a long time that actually did look like something blooming.”

      In her mother’s lap afterward Rosemary cried and cried.

      “I love him, Mother. I’m desperately in love with him – I never knew I could feel that way about anybody. And he’s married and I like her too – it’s just hopeless. Oh, I love him so!”

      “I’m curious to meet him.”

      “She invited us to dinner Friday.”

      “If you’re in love it should make you happy. You should laugh.”

      Rosemary looked up and gave a laugh. Her mother always had a great influence on her.

      Chapter 5

      Rosemary went to Monte Carlo in a bad humour. She rode up the hill to the studio and stood by the entrance. After ten minutes a young man with hair the color of canary feathers hurried down to the gate.

      “Come in, Miss Hoyt. Mr. Brady’s on the set[33], but he’s very anxious to see you. I’m sorry you were kept waiting.”

      The studio manager opened a small door of stage building and with sudden glad familiarity Rosemary followed him into half darkness. There were whispers and soft voices and, from afar, the gentle sound of a small organ. Turning the corner made by some flats, they came upon the stage, where a French actor and an American actress stood motionless face to face. They stared at each other hard, as though they had been in the same position for hours; and still for a long time nothing happened, no one moved. Then the silence was broken by a voice in front of Rosemary.

      “Baby, you don’t take off the stockings, you can spoil ten more pairs. That dress is fifteen pounds.”

      Stepping backward the speaker ran against Rosemary, when the studio manager said, “Hey, Earl – Miss Hoyt.”

      They were meeting for the first time. Brady was quick and strong. As he took her hand she saw him look her over from head to foot, a gesture she recognized and that made her feel at home, but gave her always a faint feeling of superiority to whoever made it.

      “I thought you’d be along any day now[34],” Brady said, with it a faint cockney accent. “Have a good trip?”

      “Yes, but we’re glad to be going home.”

      “No-o-o!” he protested. “Stay awhile – I want to talk to you. Let me tell you that was some picture of yours – that ‘Daddy’s Girl.’ I saw it in Paris. I wired the coast[35] right away to see if you were signed[36].”

      “I just had – I’m sorry.”

      “God, what a picture!”

      Not wanting to smile in silly agreement Rosemary frowned.

      “Nobody wants to be thought of forever for just one picture,” she said.

      “Sure – that’s right. What’re your plans?”

      “Mother thought I needed a rest. When I get back we’ll probably either sign up with First National or keep on with Famous.”

      “Who’s we?”

      “My mother. She decides business matters. I couldn’t do without her.”

      Again he looked her over completely, and, as he did, something in Rosemary went out to him[37]. It was not liking, not at all the spontaneous admiration she had felt for the man on the beach this morning. It was a click. He desired her and, so far as her virginal emotions she felt almost ready for it. Yet she knew she would forget him half an hour after she left him – like an actor kissed in a picture.

      “Where are you staying?” Brady asked. “Oh, yes, at Gausse’s. Well, my plans are made for this year, too, but that letter I wrote you still stands[38].”

      “I feel the same way. Why don’t you come back to Hollywood?”

      “I can’t stand the damn place. I’m fine here. Wait till after this shot and I’ll show you around.”

      Walking onto the set he began to talk to the French actor in a low, quiet voice.

      Five minutes passed – Brady talked on. But she did not want to see him in the mood he would be in and she left the studio. She liked the people on the streets and bought herself a pair of sandals on the way to the train.

      Her mother was pleased that she had done so accurately what she was told to do, but she still wanted to launch her out and away.

      Chapter 6

      Feeling good from the rosy wine at lunch, Nicole Diver went out into her lovely grassless garden. The garden was bounded on one side by the house, on two sides by the old village, and on the last by the cliff falling by ledges to the sea.

      Along the walls on the village side grew the vines, the lemon and eucalyptus trees.

      She wore a lilac scarf that cast its color up to her face and down around her moving feet. Her face was hard, almost stern, save for the soft gleam of doubt that looked from her green eyes. Her once fair hair had darkened, but she was lovelier now at twenty-four than she had been at eighteen, when her hair was brighter than she.

      Following a walk bordered by the white stones she came to a space overlooking the sea where there were lanterns in the fig trees and a big table and wicker chairs and a great umbrella, all gathered about an enormous pine, the biggest tree in the garden. She paused there a moment, looking absently at a growth of nasturtiums and iris tangled at its foot. She went up the stairs on the other side and into the vegetable garden.

      As she stood in the green light of the vegetable garden, Dick crossed the path ahead of her going to his work house. Nicole waited silently till he had passed; then she went on to a little menagerie where pigeons and rabbits and a parrot made noises at her. Descending to another ledge she reached a low, curved wall and looked down seven hundred feet to the Mediterranean Sea.

      She

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давайте наладим отношения

32

выходка педераста

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на съёмочной площадке

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Я вас ждал со дня на день

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Я телеграфировал на континент

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заняты ли вы на другой картине

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Розмари к нему потянуло.

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остаётся в силе