(no subject)
When Isabel entered the drawing-room she found that some people had dropped in to tea. There were two American women who lived in Paris, exquisitely gowned, with strings of pearls round their necks, diamond bracelets on their wrists and costly rings on their fingers. Though the hair of one was darkly hennaed and that of the other unnaturally golden they were strangely alike. They had the same heavily mascaraed eyelashes, the same brightly painted lips, the same rouged cheeks, the same slim figures, maintained at the cost of extreme mortification, the same clear, harp features, the same hungry restless eyes; and you could not but be conscious that their lives were a desperate struggle to maintain their fading charms. They talked with inanity in a loud, metallic voice without a moment's pause, as though afraid that if they were silent for an instant the machine would run down and the artificial construction which was all they were would fall to pieces. <...>
Isabel, with her youth, her strapping good looks and her vitality brought a breath of fresh air into that meretricious atmosphere. She swept in like a young earth goddess. The
Rumanian prince leapt to his feet to draw forward a chair for her and with ample gesticulation did his shift. The two American ladies, with shrill amiabilities on their lips, looked her up and down, took in the details of her dress and perhaps in their hearts felt a pang of dismay at being confronted with her exuberant youth. The American diplomat smiled to himself as he saw how false and haggard she made them look. But Isabel thought they were grand; she liked their rich clothes and expensive pearls and felt a twinge of envy for their sophisticated poise. She wondered if she would ever achieve that supreme elegance. Of course the little Rumanian was quite ridiculous, but he was rather sweet and even if he didn't mean the charming things he said it was nice to listen to them. The conversation which her entrance had interrupted was resumed and they talked so brightly, with so much conviction that what they were saying was worth saying, that you almost thought they were talking sense. They talked of the parties they had been to and the parties they were gomg to. They gossiped about the latest scandal. They tore their friends to pieces. They bandied great names from one to the other. They seemed
to know everybody. They were in on all the secrets. Almost in a breath they touched upon the latest play, the latest dressmaker, the latest portrait painter, and the
latest mistress of the latest premier. One would have thought there was nothing they didn't know. Isabel listened with ravishment. It all seemed to her wonderfully civilized. This really was life. It gave her a thrilling sense of being in the midst of things. This was real. The setting was perfect. That spacious room with the Savonneric carpet on the floor, the lovely drawings on the richly panelled walls, the petit-point chairs on which they sat, the priceless pieces of marquetry, commodes and occasional tables, every piece worthy to go into a museum; it must have cost a fortune, that room, but it was worth it. Its beauty, its discretion struck her as never before because she had still so vividly in her mind the shabby little hotel room, with its iron bed and that hard, comfortless chair in which he had sat, that room that Larry saw nothing wrong in. It was bare, cheerless and horrid. It made her shudder to remember it.
W.S. Maugham, The Razor's Edge
* * *
Каждый создаёт в своём представлении набор ценностей - и
меряет остальных по этой шкале. (Для меня всё это роскошное великолепие
обстановки не значит ничего - я и не понял бы ни фига про картины и
мебель, что в них такого особенного...)
И мы ограничены созданной
нами самими системой ценностей. То есть изменить успех/неуспех можно
моментально и без участия окружающих(-его): убрать шкалу. Или переменить
на другую.
*
Всегда человеку чего-то не хватает: для Изабель
наштукатуренные тётки - предел мечтаний, а для них её молодость - немой
укор и указание на их искусственность.
Изо всех сил стараюцца
оставаться relevant, пыжатся, чтобы их "не сбросили со счетов". A losing
battle against nature :-) Где это я недавно читал, как одна девочка ещё
в детстве поняла, что красота внешняя уйдёт со временем всё равно - так
и чего её холить-лелеять?..
*
Слово comfortless vs uncomfortable
*
The
conversation which her entrance had interrupted was resumed and they
talked so brightly, with so much conviction that what they were saying
was worth saying, that you almost thought they were talking sense.
въяблочко!!!
*
civilized!!!!!!!!!
"This really was life." - сразу после того, как выпотрошил всю мертвечинность!
Isabel, with her youth, her strapping good looks and her vitality brought a breath of fresh air into that meretricious atmosphere. She swept in like a young earth goddess. The
Rumanian prince leapt to his feet to draw forward a chair for her and with ample gesticulation did his shift. The two American ladies, with shrill amiabilities on their lips, looked her up and down, took in the details of her dress and perhaps in their hearts felt a pang of dismay at being confronted with her exuberant youth. The American diplomat smiled to himself as he saw how false and haggard she made them look. But Isabel thought they were grand; she liked their rich clothes and expensive pearls and felt a twinge of envy for their sophisticated poise. She wondered if she would ever achieve that supreme elegance. Of course the little Rumanian was quite ridiculous, but he was rather sweet and even if he didn't mean the charming things he said it was nice to listen to them. The conversation which her entrance had interrupted was resumed and they talked so brightly, with so much conviction that what they were saying was worth saying, that you almost thought they were talking sense. They talked of the parties they had been to and the parties they were gomg to. They gossiped about the latest scandal. They tore their friends to pieces. They bandied great names from one to the other. They seemed
to know everybody. They were in on all the secrets. Almost in a breath they touched upon the latest play, the latest dressmaker, the latest portrait painter, and the
latest mistress of the latest premier. One would have thought there was nothing they didn't know. Isabel listened with ravishment. It all seemed to her wonderfully civilized. This really was life. It gave her a thrilling sense of being in the midst of things. This was real. The setting was perfect. That spacious room with the Savonneric carpet on the floor, the lovely drawings on the richly panelled walls, the petit-point chairs on which they sat, the priceless pieces of marquetry, commodes and occasional tables, every piece worthy to go into a museum; it must have cost a fortune, that room, but it was worth it. Its beauty, its discretion struck her as never before because she had still so vividly in her mind the shabby little hotel room, with its iron bed and that hard, comfortless chair in which he had sat, that room that Larry saw nothing wrong in. It was bare, cheerless and horrid. It made her shudder to remember it.
W.S. Maugham, The Razor's Edge
* * *
Каждый создаёт в своём представлении набор ценностей - и
меряет остальных по этой шкале. (Для меня всё это роскошное великолепие
обстановки не значит ничего - я и не понял бы ни фига про картины и
мебель, что в них такого особенного...)
И мы ограничены созданной
нами самими системой ценностей. То есть изменить успех/неуспех можно
моментально и без участия окружающих(-его): убрать шкалу. Или переменить
на другую.
*
Всегда человеку чего-то не хватает: для Изабель
наштукатуренные тётки - предел мечтаний, а для них её молодость - немой
укор и указание на их искусственность.
Изо всех сил стараюцца
оставаться relevant, пыжатся, чтобы их "не сбросили со счетов". A losing
battle against nature :-) Где это я недавно читал, как одна девочка ещё
в детстве поняла, что красота внешняя уйдёт со временем всё равно - так
и чего её холить-лелеять?..
*
Слово comfortless vs uncomfortable
*
The
conversation which her entrance had interrupted was resumed and they
talked so brightly, with so much conviction that what they were saying
was worth saying, that you almost thought they were talking sense.
въяблочко!!!
*
civilized!!!!!!!!!
"This really was life." - сразу после того, как выпотрошил всю мертвечинность!