Поворот винта. Уровень 1 / The Turn of the Screw. Генри Джеймс

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previous governess? She was also young and pretty—almost as young and almost as pretty as you, miss.”

      “Ah, then, I hope her youth and beauty helped her!” I remember saying. “He seems to like us young and pretty!”

      “Oh, he did,” Mrs. Grose agreed. “That’s how he liked everyone!” She quickly corrected herself. “I mean, that’s how the master likes it.”

      I was curious. “But who were you talking about earlier?”

      She looked confused for a moment, but then blushed. “Why, about him.”

      “The master?”

      “Who else?”

      It was clear that there was no one else, so I stopped thinking that she had accidentally said more than she wanted. Instead, I asked what I really wanted to know. “Did she notice anything strange about the boy…?”

      “Anything strange? She never told me.”

      I had a doubt, but I ignored it. “Was she careful?”

      “About some things—yes.”

      “But not about everything?”

      Again she thought for a moment. “Well, miss— she’s gone. I won’t gossip[14].”

      “I understand your feeling,” I quickly replied, but I thought, after a moment, that it was okay to ask: “Did she die here?”

      “No—she left.”

      I don’t know why Mrs. Grose’s answer seemed unclear to me. “Left to die? Was she sick, and went home?”

      “She didn’t seem sick while she was here. At the end of the year, she left to go home for a short vacation, as she said. She had earned the time off. We had another young woman—a nanny—who stayed on and took care of the children during that time. But our young lady never returned, and just as I was expecting her, I received word from the master that she had died.”

      “But of what?”

      “He never told me! But please, miss,” said Mrs. Grose, “I must get to my work.”

      III

      Her turning her back on me wasn’t something that could hurt our relationship. We became closer after I brought little Miles home. I was amazed and emotional when I first saw him. I thought it was strange that such a child could be dismissed from school. When I arrived at the inn[15] to pick him up, he waited for me and I saw his beauty and purity. He was incredibly beautiful and Mrs. Grose agreed. His presence made me forget everything except my deep love for him. He seemed so innocent and sweet that it was impossible to believe anything bad about him. I felt confused when I returned to Bly with him, knowing I had a horrible letter locked in my room. As soon as I had a chance, I told Mrs. Grose that the letter was stupid.

      She quickly understood me. “You mean the cruel charge[16]—?”

      “I can’t believe it. Look at him!”

      “Believe me, miss, I do nothing else! What will you say then?” she asked immediately.

      “In response to the letter?” I had made my decision. “Nothing.”

      “And to his uncle?”

      I was firm[17]. “Nothing.”

      “And to the boy himself?”

      “Nothing.”

      She wiped her mouth with her apron. “Then I’ll support you. We’ll stick together until the end.”

      “We’ll stick together!” I said, shaking her hand to make it a promise.

      In the first weeks, the days were long. They often gave me my own hour, the time when I was alone before going to bed. I enjoyed this hour the most out of everything in the day. I especially liked it when the sky was getting dark and I could walk in the grounds and enjoy the beauty of the place. It made me feel calm. I felt happy knowing that I was doing what the person who asked me wanted. It brought me even more joy than I expected. I thought I was a special person, and I hoped that others would see it too. Well, I needed to be special because something unusual was about to happen.

      One afternoon, during my usual walk, I had a surprising encounter[18]. I used to imagine meeting someone while walking around, and now it felt like a wonderful story coming true. On the first occasion, at the end of a long day in June, I stopped when I saw the house. What shocked me was the feeling that my imagination had become real. He was standing there! But he was high up in the tower that little Flora had shown me on our first morning. This tower, along with another one that looked similar. They were old and unique. However, the person I had imagined didn’t seem most fitting in this place.

      I saw a figure in the twilight and it surprised me. I caught my breath twice. I realized that he wasn’t who I thought he was. The figure that faced me was the image that had been in my mind. I had not seen it in Harley Street—I had not seen it anywhere. It made me confused and scared. Everything around us became silent. I tried to figure out who he was, but I couldn’t. I felt wonder and confusion.

      The main question, or one of them, is about how long some things have lasted. Well, this thing of mine, believe what you want, lasted while I thought about who was in the house that I didn’t know about— and for how long, most importantly? It lasted while I felt a bit uncomfortable because my job needed me to have no such person. It lasted while this visitor seemed to stare at me and ask a question with his look. We were too far apart to speak, but there was a moment where it would have been right to break the silence. He stood in one of the corners, the one far from the house, looking very straight and had both hands on the ledge[19]. So I saw him as I see the letters on this page; then, after a minute, he slowly moved to the opposite corner, still looking hard at me. Yes, I felt strongly that during this movement, he never took his eyes off me, and I can still see how his hand moved from one part of the ledge to the next. He stopped at the other corner, but not for long, and even as he turned away, he kept looking at me. He turned away; that’s all I knew.

      IV

      I started to wonder if there was a secret or a mystery at Bly. I walked around the place for a while, feeling curious and scared. When I went back inside, it was dark. I saw a surprised look on my friend’s face. She told me she had missed me. I quickly understood, she knew nothing that could explain the incident I had. I didn’t want to worry her, so I didn’t say it. I made an excuse for being late and went to my room.

      The shock I had experienced must have made my senses sharper; I was certain, after three days and from paying closer attention, that the house staff had not deceived[20] me or played any tricks on me. Nobody around me knew anything about what I knew. There was only one logical thought: someone had allowed himself a rather rude trick. That was what I kept saying to myself as I went back into my room and locked the door. We had, all together, experienced an invasion[21];

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