"Charles L. Harness - The Rose" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harness Charles L)

For some moments she had been struck by the sinister contrast in this second descent into the Via and
the irresponsible gaiety of that first night. The street, the booths, the laughter seemed the same, but really
weren't. It was like a familiar musical score, subtly altered by some demoniac hand, raised into some
harsh and fatalistic minor key. It was like the second movement of Tchaikovsky's Romeo and Juliet: all
the bright promises of the first movement were here, but repetition had transfigured them into frightful
premonitions.

She shivered. That second movement, that echo of destiny, was sweeping through her in ever faster
tempo, as though impatient to consummate its assignation with her. Come safety, come death, she must
yield to the pattern of repetition.

Her voice had a dreamlike quality: "Take me again to the White Rose Park."

"What! Talk sense! Out here in the open, you may have a chance."

"But I must go there. Please, Ruy. I think it's something about a white rose. Don't look at me as though I
were crazy. Of course I'm crazy. If you don't want to take me, I'll go alone. But I'm going."

His hard eyes studied her in speculative silence; then he looked away. As the stillness grew, his face
mirrored his deepening introspection. "At that, the possibilities are intriguing. Martha's stooges are sure to
look in on you. But will they be able to see you? Is the hand that wields the pistol equally skilled with the
brush and palette? Unlikely. Art and Science again. Pointilist school versus police school. A good one on
MarthaтАФif it works. Anna's dress is green. Complement of green is purple. Violet's dress should do it."

"My dress?" cried the old woman. "What are you up to, Ruy?"

"Nothing, luscious. I just want you to take off one of your dresses. The outer one will do."

"Sir!" Violet began to sputter in barely audible gasps.

Anna had watched all this in vague detachment, accepting it as one of the man's daily insanities. She had
no idea what he wanted with a dirty old purple dress, but she thought she knew how she could get it for
him, while simultaneously introducing another repetitive theme into this second movement of her
hypothetical symphony.

She said: "He's willing to make you a fair trade, Violet."

The spluttering stopped. The old woman eyed them both suspiciously. "Meaning what?"

"He'll drink one of your love potions."

The leathery lips parted in amazement. "I'm agreeable, if he is, but I know he isn't. Why, that scamp
doesn't love any creature in the whole world, except maybe himself."

"And yet he's ready to make a pledge to his beloved," said Anna.

The artist squirmed. "I like you, Anna, but I won't be trapped. Anyway, it's all nonsense. What's a glass
of acidified water between friends?"

"The pledge isn't to me, Ruy. It's to a Red Rose."