The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald: The Great Gatsby, Tender Is the Night, This Side of Paradise, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, The Beautiful and Damned, The Love of the Last Tycoon and many more stories…. Фрэнсис Скотт Фицджеральд

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СКАЧАТЬ to Amory. He’s sensitive and I don’t want him to break his heart over somebody who doesn’t care about him.

      Cecelia: He’s very good looking.

      Alec: (Still thoughtfully) She won’t marry him, but a girl doesn’t have to marry a man to break his heart.

      Cecelia: What does it? I wish I knew the secret.

      Alec: Why, you cold-blooded little kitty. It’s lucky for some that the Lord gave you a pug nose.

      (Enter Mrs. Connage.)

      Mrs. Connage: Where on earth is Rosalind?

      Alec: (Brilliantly) Of course you’ve come to the best people to find out. She’d naturally be with us.

      Mrs. Connage: Her father has marshalled eight bachelor millionaires to meet her.

      Alec: You might form a squad and march through the halls.

      Mrs. Connage: I’m perfectly serious—for all I know she may be at the Cocoanut Grove with some football player on the night of her début. You look left and I’ll—— Alec: (Flippantly) Hadn’t you better send the butler through the cellar?

      Mrs. Connage: (Perfectly serious) Oh, you don’t think she’d be there?

      Cecelia: He’s only joking, mother.

      Alec: Mother had a picture of her tapping a keg of beer with some high hurdler.

      Mrs. Connage: Let’s look right away.

      (They go out. Rosalind comes in with Gillespie.)

      Gillespie: Rosalind—Once more I ask you. Don’t you care a blessed thing about me?

      (Amory walks in briskly.)

      Amory: My dance.

      Rosalind: Mr. Gillespie, this is Mr. Blaine.

      Gillespie: I’ve met Mr. Blaine. From Lake Geneva, aren’t you?

      Amory: Yes.

      Gillespie: (Desperately) I’ve been there. It’s in the—the Middle West, isn’t it?

      Amory: (Spicily) Approximately. But I always felt that I’d rather be provincial hot-tamale than soup without seasoning.

      Gillespie: What!

      Amory: Oh, no offense.

      (Gillespie bows and leaves.)

      Rosalind: He’s too much people.

      Amory: I was in love with a people once.

      Rosalind: So?

      Amory: Oh, yes—her name was Isabelle—nothing at all to her except what I read into her.

      Rosalind: What happened?

      Amory: Finally I convinced her that she was smarter than I was—then she threw me over. Said I was critical and impractical, you know.

      Rosalind: What do you mean impractical?

      Amory: Oh—drive a car, but can’t change a tire.

      Rosalind: What are you going to do?

      Amory: Can’t say—run for President, write——

      Rosalind: Greenwich Village?

      Amory: Good heavens, no—I said write—not drink.

      Rosalind: I like business men. Clever men are usually so homely.

      Amory: I feel as if I’d known you for ages.

      Rosalind: Oh, are you going to commence the “pyramid” story?

      Amory: No—I was going to make it French. I was Louis Xiv and you were one of my—my—(Changing his tone.) Suppose—we fell in love.

      Rosalind: I ve suggested pretending.

      Amory: If we did it would be very big.

      Rosalind: Why?

      Amory: Because selfish people are in a way terribly capable of great loves.

      Rosalind: (Turning her lips up) Pretend.

      (Very deliberately they kiss.)

      Amory: I can’t say sweet things. But you are beautiful.

      Rosalind: Not that.

      Amory: What then?

      Rosalind: (Sadly) Oh, nothing—only I want sentiment, real sentiment—and I never find it.

      Amory: I never find anything else in the world—and I loathe it.

      Rosalind: It’s so hard to find a male to gratify one’s artistic taste.

      (Some one has opened a door and the music of a waltz surges into the room. Rosalind rises.)

      Rosalind: Listen! they’re playing “Kiss Me Again.”

      (He looks at her.)

      Amory: Well?

      Rosalind: Well?

      Amory: (Softly—the battle lost) I love you.

      Rosalind: I love you—now.

      (They kiss.)

      Amory: Oh, God, what have I done?

      Rosalind: Nothing. Oh, don’t talk. Kiss me again.

      Amory: I don’t know why or how, but I love you—from the moment I saw you.

      Rosalind: Me too—I—I—oh, to-night’s to-night.

      (Her brother strolls in, starts and then in a loud voice says: “Oh, excuse me,” and goes.)

      Rosalind: (Her lips scarcely stirring) Don’t let me go—I don’t care who knows what I do.

      Amory: Say it!

      Rosalind: I love you—now. (They part.) Oh—I am very youthful, thank God—and rather beautiful, СКАЧАТЬ