"Hawthorne, Nathaniel - The Minister's Black Veil" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hawthorne Nathaniel)

That night, the handsomest couple in Milford village were to be
joined in wedlock. Though reckoned a melancholy man, Mr. Hooper had
a placid cheerfulness for such occasions, which often excited a
sympathetic smile where livelier merriment would have been thrown
away. There was no quality of his disposition which made him more
beloved than this. The company at the wedding awaited his arrival with
impatience, trusting that the strange awe, which had gathered over him
throughout the day, would now be dispelled. But such was not the
result. When Mr. Hooper came, the first thing that their eyes rested
on was the same horrible black veil, which had added deeper gloom to
the funeral, and could portend nothing but evil to the wedding. Such
was its immediate effect on the guests that a cloud seemed to have
rolled duskily from beneath the black crape, and dimmed the light of
the candles. The bridal pair stood up before the minister. But the
bride's cold fingers quivered in the tremulous hand of the bridegroom,
and her deathlike paleness caused a whisper that the maiden who had
been buried a few hours before was come from her grave to be
married. If ever another wedding were so dismal, it was that famous
one where they tolled the wedding knell. After performing the
ceremony, Mr. Hooper raised a glass of wine to his lips, wishing
happiness to the new-married couple in a strain of mild pleasantry
that ought to have brightened the features of the guests, like a
cheerful gleam from the hearth. At that instant, catching a glimpse of
his figure in the looking-glass, the black veil involved his own
spirit in the horror with which it overwhelmed all others. His frame
shuddered, his lips grew white, he spilt the untasted wine upon the
carpet, and rushed forth into the darkness. For the Earth, too, had on
her Black Veil.

The next day, the whole village of Milford talked of little else
than Parson Hooper's black veil. That, and the mystery concealed
behind it, supplied a topic for discussion between acquaintances
meeting in the street, and good women gossiping at their open windows.
It was the first item of news that the tavern-keeper told to his
guests. The children babbled of it on their way to school. One
imitative little imp covered his face with an old black
handkerchief, thereby so affrighting his playmates that the panic
seized himself, and he well-nigh lost his wits by his own waggery.

It was remarkable that of all the busybodies and impertinent people
in the parish, not one ventured to put the plain question to Mr.
Hooper, wherefore he did this thing. Hitherto, whenever there appeared
the slightest call for such interference, he had never lacked
advisers, nor shown himself adverse to be guided by their judgment. If
he erred at all, it was by so painful a degree of self-distrust,
that even the mildest censure would lead him to consider an
indifferent action as a crime. Yet, though so well acquainted with
this amiable weakness, no individual among his parishioners chose to
make the black veil a subject of friendly remonstrance. There was a