Libro del amante tumbado en un negro, pálido suelo (Spanish Edition)

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  1. domingo, 24 de enero de 2016
  2. Full text of "Modern Spanish readings, embracing text, notes and an etymological vocabulary"
  3. The Jungle (Webster's Spanish Thesaurus Edition)

With a dread of being alone he attached a few friends, but since they were not among the elite of the school, he used them simply as mirrors of himself, audiences before which he might do that posing absolutely essential to him. He was unbearably lonely, desperately unhappy. It had pleased him to be the lightest and youngest man on the first football squad; it pleased him when Doctor Dougall told him at the end of a heated conference that he could, if he wished, get the best marks in school. But Doctor Dougall was wrong.

It was temperamentally impossible for Amory to get the best marks in school. But at Christmas he had returned to Minneapolis, tight-lipped and strangely jubilant. You ought to go away to school, Froggy. Margotson, the senior master, sent word to study hall that Amory was to come to his room at nine. Amory suspected that advice was forthcoming, but he determined to be courteous, because this Mr. Margotson had been kindly disposed toward him. His summoner received him gravely, and motioned him to a chair.

I think you have in you the makings of a a very good man. He hated having people talk as if he were an admitted failure. He rose from his chair, scarcely controlling his voice when he spoke. In the cool air outside, as he walked to his house, he exulted in his refusal to be helped. His Spanish admitted: confesado, admitido. When they walked down the aisle of the theatre, greeted by the nervous twanging and discord of untuned violins and the sensuous, heavy fragrance of paint and powder, he moved in a sphere of epicurean delight.

Everything enchanted him. Cohan, and there was one stunning young brunette who made him sit with brimming eyes in the ecstasy of watching her dance. Oh, to fall in love like that, to the languorous magic melody of such a tune! Amory was on fire to be an habitui of roof-gardens, to meet a girl who should look like that better, that very girl; whose hair would be drenched with golden moonlight, while at his elbow sparkling wine was poured by an unintelligible waiter. When the curtain fell for the last time he gave such a long sigh that the people in front of him twisted around and stared and said loud enough for him to hear: Spanish aisle: pasillo, nave lateral.

The former was the first to speak. Amory was distinctly impressed. He wished he had said it instead of Paskert. It sounded so mature. I can tell. New faces flashed on and off like myriad lights, pale or rouged faces, tired, yet sustained by a weary excitement. Amory watched them in fascination. He was planning his life. He was going to live in New York, and be known at every restaurant and cafi, wearing a dress-suit from early evening to early morning, sleeping away the dull hours of the forenoon.

The game with Groton was played from three of a snappy, exhilarating afternoon far into the crisp autumnal twilight, and Amory at quarter-back, Spanish actresses: actrices. Scott Fitzgerald 33 exhorting in wild despair, making impossible tackles, calling signals in a voice that had diminished to a hoarse, furious whisper, yet found time to revel in the blood-stained bandage around his head, and the straining, glorious heroism of plunging, crashing bodies and aching limbs.

For those minutes courage flowed like wine out of the November dusk, and he was the eternal hero, one with the sea-rover on the prow of a Norse galley, one with Roland and Horatius, Sir Nigel and Ted Coy, scraped and stripped into trim and then flung by his own will into the breach, beating back the tide, hearing from afar the thunder of cheers He was changed as completely as Amory Blaine could ever be changed. Amory plus Beatrice plus two years in Minneapolis these had been his ingredients when he entered St. But both St.

Those qualities for which he had suffered, his moodiness, his tendency to pose, his laziness, and his love of playing the fool, were now taken as a matter of course, recognized eccentricities in a star quarter-back, a clever actor, and the editor of the St. Regis Tattler: it puzzled him to see impressionable small boys imitating the very vanities that had not long ago been contemptible weaknesses.

Spanish afar: lejos. The night of the pre-holiday dance he slipped away and went early to bed for the pleasure of hearing the violin music cross the grass and come surging in at his window. Many nights he lay there dreaming awake of secret cafis in Mont Martre, where ivory women delved in romantic mysteries with diplomats and soldiers of fortune, while orchestras played Hungarian waltzes and the air was thick and exotic with intrigue and moonlight and adventure. He moved his bed so that the sun would wake him at dawn that he might dress and go out to the archaic swing that hung from an apple-tree near the sixth-form house.

Seating himself in this he would pump higher and higher until he got the effect of swinging into the wide air, into a fairy-land of piping satyrs and nymphs with the faces of fair-haired girls he passed in the streets of Eastchester. As the swing reached its highest point, Arcady really lay just over the brow of a certain hill, where the brown road dwindled out of sight in a golden dot.

Phillips Oppenheim complete, and a scattering of Tennyson and Kipling. As June drew near, he felt the need of conversation to formulate his own ideas, and, to his surprise, found a co-philosopher in Rahill, the president of the sixth form. How about yourself? You are, too. I want to get where everybody does their own work and I can tell people where to go. Spanish ataxia: ataxia. What makes you one? The slicker was goodlooking or clean-looking; he had brains, social brains, that is, and he used all means on the broad path of honesty to get ahead, be popular, admired, and never in trouble.

He dressed well, was particularly neat in appearance, and derived his name from the fact that his hair was inevitably worn short, soaked in water or tonic, parted in the middle, and slicked back as the current of fashion dictated. The slickers of that year had adopted tortoise-shell spectacles as badges of their slickerhood, and this made them so easy to recognize that Amory and Rahill never missed one. The slicker seemed distributed through school, always a little wiser and shrewder than his contemporaries, managing some team or other, and keeping his cleverness carefully concealed.

Amory found the slicker a most valuable classification until his junior year in college, when the outline became so blurred and indeterminate that it had to be subdivided many times, and became only a quality. Scott Fitzgerald 37 This was a first real break from the hypocrisy of school tradition. Clever sense of social values. Inclined to stupidity and unconscious of social values.

Dresses well. Thinks dress is superficial, and is inclined to be careless about it. Goes into such activities as he can shine in. Goes out for everything from a sense of duty. Gets to college and is, in a worldly way, successful. Gets to college and has a problematical future. Feels lost without his circle, and always says that school days were happiest, after all.

Goes back to school and makes speeches about what St. Hair slicked. Hair not slicked. Amory had decided definitely on Princeton, even though he would be the only boy entering that year from St. Yale had a romance and glamour from the tales of Minneapolis, and St. Years afterward, when he went back to St. Gradually he realized that he was really walking up University Place, self-conscious about his suitcase, developing a new tendency to glare straight ahead when he passed any one.

Several times he could have sworn that men turned to look at him critically. He wondered vaguely if there was something the matter with his clothes, and wished he had shaved that morning on the train. He felt unnecessarily stiff and awkward among these white-flannelled, bareheaded youths, who must be juniors and seniors, judging from the savoir faire with which they strolled. He found that 12 University Place was a large, dilapidated mansion, at present apparently uninhabited, though he knew it housed usually a dozen freshmen.

After a hurried skirmish with his landlady he sallied out on a tour of exploration, but he had gone scarcely a block when he became horribly conscious that he must be the only man in town who was wearing a hat. This sounded familiar, so he sauntered in and took a seat on a high stool. Anything else? After a cursory inspection of the pillow-cases, leather pennants, and Gibson Girls that lined the walls, he left, and continued along Nassau Street with his hands in his pockets.

Gradually he was learning to distinguish between upper classmen and entering men, even though the freshman cap would not appear until the following Monday. Those who were too obviously, too nervously at home were freshmen, for as each train brought a new contingent it was immediately absorbed into the hatless, white-shod, book-laden throng, whose function seemed to be to drift endlessly up and down the street, emitting great clouds of smoke from brand-new pipes.

By afternoon Amory realized that now the newest arrivals were taking him for an upper classman, and he tried conscientiously to look both pleasantly blasi and casually critical, which was as near as he could analyze the prevalent facial expression. Having climbed the rickety stairs he scrutinized his room resignedly, concluding that it was hopeless to attempt any more inspired decoration than class banners and tiger pictures. There was a tap at the door. Maybe Mrs. Twelve, or whatever she goes by, has one. Have to sit around and study for something to do. Amory grinned. I had a cousin there.

This was followed by an indistinguishable song that included much stamping and then by an endless, incoherent dirge. Come on, Burne. The great tapestries of trees had darkened to ghosts back at the last edge of twilight. The early moon had drenched the arches with pale blue, and, weaving over the night, in and out of the gossamer rifts of moon, swept a song, a song with more than a hint of sadness, infinitely transient, infinitely regretful.

The song soared so high that all dropped out except the tenors, who bore the melody triumphantly past the danger-point and relinquished it to the fantastic chorus. Then Amory opened his eyes, half afraid that sight would spoil the rich illusion of harmony. He sighed eagerly. There at the head of the white platoon marched Allenby, the football captain, slim and defiant, as if aware that this year the hopes of the college rested on him, that his hundred-and-sixty pounds were expected to dodge to victory through the heavy blue and crimson lines.

Fascinated, Amory watched each rank of linked arms as it came abreast, the faces indistinct above the polo shirts, the voices blent in a fan of triumph and then the procession passed through shadowy Campbell Arch, and the voices grew fainter as it wound eastward over the campus. Spanish abreast: de frente, caminar cuatro de frente.

domingo, 24 de enero de 2016

Scott Fitzgerald 45 The minutes passed and Amory sat there very quietly. He regretted the rule that would forbid freshmen to be outdoors after curfew, for he wanted to ramble through the shadowy scented lanes, where Witherspoon brooded like a dark mother over Whig and Clio, her Attic children, where the black Gothic snake of Little curled down to Cuyler and Patton, these in turn flinging the mystery out over the placid slope rolling to the lake.

From the first he loved Princeton its lazy beauty, its half-grasped significance, the wild moonlight revel of the rushes, the handsome, prosperous big-game crowds, and under it all the air of struggle that pervaded his class. From the day when, wild-eyed and exhausted, the jerseyed freshmen sat in the gymnasium and elected some one from Hill School class president, a Lawrenceville celebrity vice-president, a hockey star from St. From the moment he realized this Amory resented social barriers as artificial distinctions made by the strong to bolster up their weak retainers and keep out the almost strong.

This forced him to retire and consider the situation. The Holidays were rumored twins, but really the dark-haired one, Kerry, was a year older than his blond brother, Burne. Kerry was tall, with humorous gray eyes, and a sudden, attractive smile; he became at once the mentor of the house, reaper of ears that grew too high, censor of conceit, vendor of rare, satirical humor.

Amory spread the table of their future friendship with all his ideas of what college should and did mean. Kerry, not inclined as yet to take things seriously, chided him gently for being curious at this inopportune time about the intricacies of the social system, but liked him and was both interested and amused. Burne, fair-haired, silent, and intent, appeared in the house only as a busy apparition, gliding in quietly at night and off again in the early morning to get up his work in the library he was out for the Princetonian, competing furiously against forty others for the coveted first place.

In December he came down with diphtheria, and some one else won the competition, but, returning to college in February, he dauntlessly went after the prize again. Amory was far from contented. He missed the place he had won at St. The upper-class clubs, concerning which he had pumped a reluctant graduate during the previous summer, excited his curiosity: Ivy, detached and breathlessly aristocratic; Cottage, an impressive milange of brilliant adventurers and well-dressed philanderers; Tiger Inn, broad-shouldered Spanish absorbing: absorbiendo, absorbente.

Scott Fitzgerald 47 and athletic, vitalized by an honest elaboration of prep-school standards; Cap and Gown, anti-alcoholic, faintly religious and politically powerful; flamboyant Colonial; literary Quadrangle; and the dozen others, varying in age and position.

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Amory found that writing for the Nassau Literary Magazine would get him nothing, but that being on the board of the Daily Princetonian would get any one a good deal. His vague desire to do immortal acting with the English Dramatic Association faded out when he found that the most ingenious brains and talents were concentrated upon the Triangle Club, a musical comedy organization that every year took a great Christmas trip. In the meanwhile, feeling strangely alone and restless in Commons, with new desires and ambitions stirring in his mind, he let the first term go by between an envy of the embryo successes and a puzzled fretting with Kerry as to why they were not accepted immediately among the elite of the class.

Many afternoons they lounged in the windows of 12 Univee and watched the class pass to and from Commons, noting satellites already attaching themselves to the more prominent, watching the lonely grind with his hurried step and downcast eye, envying the happy security of the big school groups. I distrust that sort. All diamonds look big in the rough. I honestly think so sometimes.

My God! I want to pull strings, even for somebody else, or be Princetonian chairman or Triangle president. I want to be admired, Kerry. The donor of the party having remained sober, Kerry and Amory accidentally dropped him down two flights of stairs and called, shame-faced and penitent, at the infirmary all the following week. As soon as I get hold of a hand they sort of disconnect it from the rest of them.

I wrote a St. Timothy girl a really loving letter last year. February dripped snow and rain, the cyclonic freshman mid-years passed, and life in 12 Univee continued interesting if not purposeful. The latter was a quiet, rather aloof slicker from Hotchkiss, who lived next door and shared the same enforced singleness as Amory, due to the fact that his entire class had gone to Yale. His father had been experimenting with mining stocks and, in consequence, his allowance, while liberal, was not at all what he had expected.

One day in March, finding that all the tables were occupied, he slipped into a chair opposite a freshman who bent intently over a book at the last Spanish aloof: apartado. They nodded briefly. Great stuff! He was, perhaps, nineteen, with stooped shoulders, pale blue eyes, and, as Amory could tell from his general appearance, without much conception of social competition and such phenomena of absorbing interest. Still, he liked books, and Spanish affirmed: confirmado, Afirmado. Scott Fitzgerald 53 it seemed forever since Amory had met any one who did; if only that St.

In a good-natured way he had almost decided that Princeton was one part deadly Philistines and one part deadly grinds, and to find a person who could mention Keats without stammering, yet evidently washed his hands, was rather a treat. Who wrote it? You can borrow it if you want to. The world Spanish borrow: prestar, tomar prestado, pedir prestado. Amory liked him for being clever and literary without effeminacy or affectation. In fact, Amory did most of the strutting and tried painfully to make every remark an epigram, than which, if one is content with ostensible epigrams, there are many feats harder.

Kerry thereupon rolled on the floor in stifled laughter. Amory took to writing poetry on spring afternoons, in the gardens of the big estates near Princeton, while swans made effective atmosphere in the artificial pools, and slow clouds sailed harmoniously above the willows. May came too soon, and suddenly unable to bear walls, he wandered the campus at all hours through starlight and rain. From the moon it rolled, clustered about the spires and towers, and then settled below them, so that the dreaming peaks were still in lofty aspiration toward the sky.

Figures that dotted the day like ants now brushed along as shadowy ghosts, in and out of the foreground. The Gothic halls and cloisters were infinitely more mysterious as they loomed suddenly out of the darkness, outlined each by myriad faint squares of yellow light. Indefinitely from somewhere a bell boomed the quarter-hour, and Amory, pausing by the sun-dial, stretched himself out full length on the damp grass. The cool bathed his eyes and slowed the flight of time, time that had crept so insidiously through the lazy April afternoons, seemed so intangible in the long spring twilights.

Evening after evening the senior singing had drifted over the campus in melancholy beauty, and through the shell of his undergraduate consciousness had broken a deep and reverent devotion to the gray walls and Gothic peaks and all they symbolized as warehouses of dead ages. The tower that in view of his window sprang upward, grew into a spire, yearning higher until its uppermost tip was half invisible against the morning skies, gave him the first sense of the transiency and unimportance of the campus figures except as holders of the apostolic succession.

He liked knowing that Gothic architecture, with its upward trend, was peculiarly appropriate to universities, and the idea became personal to him. The silent stretches of green, the quiet halls with an occasional late-burning scholastic light held his imagination in a strong grasp, and the chastity of the spire became a symbol of this perception.

Where now he realized only his own inconsequence, effort would make him aware of his own impotency and insufficiency. The college dreamed on—awake. He felt a nervous excitement that might have been the very throb of its slow heart. Scott Fitzgerald 57 a stone whose faint ripple would be vanishing almost as it left his hand. As yet he had given nothing, he had taken nothing. A belated freshman, his oilskin slicker rasping loudly, slushed along the soft path. A hundred little sounds of the current drifting on under the fog pressed in finally on his consciousness.

The rain dripped on. A minute longer he lay without moving, his hands clinched. Then he sprang to his feet and gave his clothes a tentative pat. Beyond a sporting interest in the German dash for Paris the whole affair failed either to thrill or interest him. With the attitude he might have held toward an amusing melodrama he hoped it would be long and bloody. If it had not continued he would have felt like an irate ticket-holder at a prize-fight where the principals refused to mix it up.

That was his total reaction. A great, seething ant-hill was the Triangle Club. It gave a musical comedy every year, travelling with cast, chorus, orchestra, and scenery all through Christmas vacation. The play and music were the work of undergraduates, and the club itself was the most influential of institutions, over three hundred men competing for it every year. Amory, after an easy victory in the first sophomore Princetonian competition, stepped into a vacancy of the cast as Boiling Oil, a Pirate Lieutenant. A rare scene, the Casino.

A big, barn-like auditorium, dotted with boys as girls, boys as pirates, boys as babies; the scenery in course of being violently set up; the spotlight man rehearsing by throwing weird shafts into angry eyes; over all the constant tuning of the orchestra or the cheerful tumpty-tump of a Triangle tune. Spanish ant-hill: hormiguero. It is also a tradition that the members are invariably successful in later life, amassing fortunes or votes or coupons or whatever they choose to amass.

It was claimed though never proved that on one occasion the hired Elis were swelled by one of the real thing. They played through vacation to the fashionable of eight cities. Amory liked Louisville and Memphis best: these knew how to meet strangers, furnished extraordinary punch, and flaunted an astonishing array of feminine beauty. Chicago he approved for a certain verve that transcended its loud accent however, it was a Yale town, and as the Yale Glee Club was expected in a week the Triangle received only divided homage. In Baltimore, Princeton was at home, and every one fell in love.

There was a proper consumption of strong waters all along the line; one man invariably went on the stage highly stimulated, claiming Spanish advertised: anunciado. Everything was so hurried that there was no time to be bored, but when they arrived in Philadelphia, with vacation nearly over, there was rest in getting out of the heavy atmosphere of flowers and grease-paint, and the ponies took off their corsets with abdominal pains and sighs of relief. He remembered Isabelle only as a little girl with whom he had played sometimes when he first went to Minneapolis.

She had gone to Baltimore to live but since then she had developed a past. Amory was in full stride, confident, nervous, and jubilant. Scurrying back to Minneapolis to see a girl he had known as a child seemed the interesting and romantic thing to do, so without compunction he wired his mother not to expect him Huston-Carmelite to her popular daughter.

But he never realized how wide-spread it was until he saw the cities between New York and Chicago as one vast juvenile intrigue. Afternoon at the Plaza, with winter twilight hovering outside and faint drums down-stairs Then the swinging doors revolve and three bundles of fur mince in.

The theatre comes afterward; then a table at the Midnight Frolic of course, mother will be along there, but she will serve only to make things more secretive and brilliant as she sits in solitary state at the deserted table and thinks such entertainments as this are not half so bad as they are painted, only rather wearying. But the P. If the P. Try to find the P. The same girl Amory found it rather fascinating to feel that any popular girl he met before eight he might quite possibly kiss before twelve. I wanted to come out here with you because I thought you were the best-looking girl in sight.

What have I done to deserve it? He had rather a young face, the ingenuousness of which was marred by the penetrating green eyes, fringed with long dark eyelashes. He lacked somehow that intense animal magnetism that so often accompanies beauty in men or women; his personality seemed rather a mental thing, and it was not in his power to turn it on and off like a water-faucet.

But people never forgot his face. The sensations attributed to divers on spring-boards, leading ladies on opening nights, and lumpy, husky young men on the day of the Big Game, crowded through her. She had been sixteen years old for six months. They curved tantalizingly, and she could catch just a glimpse of two pairs of masculine feet in the hall below.

Pump-shod in uniform black, they gave no hint of identity, but she wondered eagerly if one pair were attached to Amory Blaine. This young man, not as yet encountered, had nevertheless taken up a considerable part of her day the first day of her arrival. It put them on equal terms, although she was quite capable of staging her own romances, with or without advance advertising. What sort of things? She felt rather in the capacity of a showman with her more exotic cousin.

She was accustomed to be thus followed by her desperate past, and it never failed to rouse in her the same feeling of resentment; yet in a strange town it was an Spanish amid: en medio de, entre. Well let them find out. Out of the window Isabelle watched the snow glide by in the frosty morning. It was ever so much colder here than in Baltimore; she had not remembered; the glass of the side door was iced, the windows were shirred with snow in the corners.

Her mind played still with one subject. Did he dress like that boy there, who walked calmly down a bustling business street, in moccasins and wintercarnival costume? How very Western! Really she had no distinct idea of him. An ancient snap-shot she had preserved in an old kodak book had impressed her by the big eyes which he had probably grown up to by now. However, in the last month, when her winter visit to Sally had been decided on, he had assumed the proportions of a worthy adversary. Isabelle had been for some time capable of very strong, if very transient emotions They drew up at a spreading, white-stone building, set back from the snowy street.

Weatherby greeted her warmly and her various younger cousins were produced from the corners where they skulked politely. Isabelle met them tactfully. At her best she allied all with whom she came in contact except older girls and some women. All the impressions she made were conscious. The half-dozen girls she renewed acquaintance with that morning were all rather impressed and as much by her direct personality as by her reputation. Amory Blaine was an open subject. Evidently a bit light of love, neither popular nor unpopular every girl there seemed to have had an affair with him at some time or other, but no one volunteered any really useful information.

He was going to fall for her Sally had published that information to her young set and they were retailing it back to Sally as fast as they set eyes on Isabelle. Isabelle resolved secretly that she would, if necessary, force herself to like him she owed it to Sally. Suppose she were terribly disappointed. In fact, he summed up all the romance that her age and Spanish acquaintance: conocido, conocimiento, notoriedad. Scott Fitzgerald 65 environment led her to desire.

She wondered if those were his dancing-shoes that fox-trotted tentatively around the soft rug below. All impressions and, in fact, all ideas were extremely kaleidoscopic to Isabelle. She had that curious mixture of the social and the artistic temperaments found often in two classes, society women and actresses. Her education or, rather, her sophistication, had been absorbed from the boys who had dangled on her favor; her tact was instinctive, and her capacity for love-affairs was limited only by the number of the susceptible within telephone distance.

Flirt smiled from her large black-brown eyes and shone through her intense physical magnetism. The name Blaine figured somewhere, but at first she could not place him. A very confused, very juvenile moment of awkward backings and bumpings followed, and every one found himself talking to the person he least desired to. Isabelle manoeuvred herself and Froggy Parker, freshman at Harvard, with whom she had once played hop-scotch, to a seat on the stairs.

A humorous reference to the past was all she needed. The things Isabelle could do socially with one idea were remarkable. First, she repeated it rapturously in an enthusiastic contralto with a soupgon of Southern accent; then she held it off at a distance and smiled at it her wonderful smile; then she delivered it in variations and played a sort of mental catch with it, all this in the nominal form of dialogue.

As an actress even in the fullest flush of her own conscious magnetism gets a deep impression of most of the people in the front row, so Isabelle sized up her antagonist. First, he had auburn hair, and from her feeling of disappointment she knew that she had expected him to be dark and of garteradvertisement slenderness For the rest, a faint flush and a straight, romantic profile; the effect set off by a close-fitting dress suit and a silk ruffled shirt of the kind that women still delight to see men wear, but men were just beginning to get tired of. There was a stir, and Sally led the way over to their table.

But really she felt as if a good speech had been taken from the star and given to a minor character The dinner-table glittered with laughter at the confusion of getting places and then curious eyes were turned on her, sitting near the head. Amory was on the other side, full of confidence and vanity, gazing at her in open admiration. Isabelle turned to Amory shyly. Her face was always enough answer for any one, but she decided to speak.

She leaned slightly toward him and looked modestly at the celery before her. Froggy sighed he knew Amory, and the situations that Amory seemed born to handle. He turned to Sally and asked her if she was going away to school next year. Amory opened with grape-shot. Amory shook his head. He nodded. Amory attempted to make them look even keener. He fancied, but he was not sure, that her foot had just touched his under the table. But it might possibly have been only the table leg. It was so hard to tell. Still it thrilled him. He wondered quickly if there would be any difficulty in securing the little den up-stairs.

Moreover, amateur standing had very little value in the game they were Spanish adjective: adjetivo, el adjetivo. She had begun as he had, with good looks and an excitable temperament, and the rest was the result of accessible popular novels and dressing-room conversation culled from a slightly older set. Isabelle had walked with an artificial gait at nine and a half, and when her eyes, wide and starry, proclaimed the ingenue most. Amory was proportionately less deceived.

He waited for the mask to drop off, but at the same time he did not question her right to wear it. She, on her part, was not impressed by his studied air of blasi sophistication. She had lived in a larger city and had slightly an advantage in range. But she accepted his pose it was one of the dozen little conventions of this kind of affair.

He was aware that he was getting this particular favor now because she had been coached; he knew that he stood for merely the best game in sight, and that he would have to improve his opportunity before he lost his advantage. So they proceeded with an infinite guile that would have horrified her parents. She was conscious that they were a handsome pair, and seemed to belong distinctively in this seclusion, while lesser lights fluttered and chattered downstairs.

Boys who passed the door looked in enviously girls who passed only laughed and frowned and grew wise within themselves. They had now reached a very definite stage. They had traded accounts of their progress since they had met last, and she had listened to much she had heard before. He was a sophomore, was on the Princetonian board, hoped to be chairman in senior year. He learned that some of the boys she went with in Spanish accessible: accesible, alcanzable.

A good half seemed to have already flunked out of various schools and colleges, but some of them bore athletic names that made him look at her admiringly. Such is the power of young contralto voices on sink-down sofas.

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She said there was a difference between conceit and self-confidence. She adored self-confidence in men. However, he sized up several people for her. Then they talked about hands. Do you? Amory had stayed over a day to see her, and his train left at twelveeighteen that night. His trunk and suitcase awaited him at the station; his watch was beginning to hang heavy in his pocket.

Amory reached above their heads and turned out the electric light, so that they were in the dark, except for the red glow that fell through the door from the reading-room lamps. Isabelle was quite stirred; she wound her handkerchief into a tight ball, and by the faint light that streamed over her, dropped it deliberately on the floor. Their hands touched for an instant, but neither spoke. Silences were becoming more frequent and more delicious. Outside another stray couple had come up and were experimenting on the piano in the next room. You do give a darn about me.

As he swung the door softly shut, the music seemed quivering just outside. The future vista of her life seemed an unending succession of scenes like this: under moonlight and pale starlight, and in the backs of warm limousines and in low, cosy roadsters stopped under sheltering trees only the boy might change, and this one was so nice. He took her hand softly. With a sudden movement he turned it and, holding it to his lips, kissed the palm. Her breath came faster.

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  6. Suddenly the ring of voices, the sound of running footsteps surged toward them. Quick as a flash Amory reached up and turned on the light, and when the door opened and three boys, the wrathy and dance-craving Froggy among them, rushed in, he was turning over the magazines on the table, while she sat without moving, serene and unembarrassed, and even greeted them with a welcoming smile. But her heart was beating wildly, and she felt somehow as if she had been deprived. There was a clamor for a dance, there was a glance that passed between them on his side despair, on hers regret, and then the evening went on, with the reassured beaux and the eternal cutting in.

    At quarter to twelve Amory shook hands with her gravely, in the midst of a small crowd assembled to wish him good-speed. Isabelle turned to her quietly. In her eyes was the light of the idealist, the inviolate dreamer of Joan-like dreams. He had such a good-looking mouth would she ever? The minor snobs, finely balanced thermometers of success, warmed to him as the club elections grew nigh, and he and Tom were visited by groups of upper classmen who arrived awkwardly, balanced on the edge of the furniture and talked of all subjects except the one of absorbing interest. Scott Fitzgerald 73 him, and, in case the visitors represented some club in which he was not interested, took great pleasure in shocking them with unorthodox remarks.

    There were fickle groups that jumped from club to club; there were friends of two or three days who announced tearfully and wildly that they must join the same club, nothing should separate them; there were snarling disclosures of long-hidden grudges as the Suddenly Prominent remembered snubs of freshman year. This orgy of sociability culminated in a gigantic party at the Nassau Inn, where punch was dispensed from immense bowls, and the whole down-stairs became a delirious, circulating, shouting pattern of faces and voices. Tore over to Murray—Dodge on a bicycle—afraid it was a mistake.

    Hear you got a good crowd. His ideas were in tune with life as he found it; he wanted no more than to drift and dream and enjoy a dozen new-found friendships through the April afternoons. Alec Connage came into his room one morning and woke him up into the sunshine and peculiar glory of Campbell Hall shining in the window. The coast Speed it up, kid! In fact, it was stolen from Asbury Park by persons unknown, who deserted it in Princeton and left for the West.

    Heartless Humbird here got permission from the city council to deliver it. There was an emphatic negative chorus. We can sell the car. Some people have lived on nothing for years at a time. Read the Boy Scout Monthly. Swinburne seemed to fit in somehow. I can see it in his eye. I ought to make up to-night; but I can telephone back, I suppose. It was a halcyon day, and as they neared the shore and the salt breezes scurried by, he began to picture the ocean and long, level stretches of sand and red roofs over blue sea. Then they hurried through the little town and it all flashed upon his consciousness to a mighty pfan of emotion Look at it!

    Oh, gentlefolk, stop the car! First, he realized that the sea was blue and that there was an Spanish begotten: engendrado. Scott Fitzgerald 77 enormous quantity of it, and that it roared and roared really all the banalities about the ocean that one could realize, but if any one had told him then that these things were banalities, he would have gaped in wonder. The food for one.

    Hand the rest around. When luncheon was over they sat and smoked quietly. Kerry, collect the small change. They sauntered leisurely toward the door, pursued in a moment by the suspicious Ganymede. At four there were refreshments in a lunch-room, and this time they paid an even smaller per cent on the total cost; something about the appearance and savoir-faire of the crowd made the thing go, and they were not pursued. Then Kerry saw a face in the crowd that attracted him and, rushing off, reappeared in a moment with one of the homeliest girls Amory had ever set eyes on.

    Her pale mouth extended from ear to ear, her teeth projected in a solid wedge, and she had little, squinty eyes that peeped ingratiatingly over the side sweep of her nose. Kerry presented them formally. Let me present Messrs. Connage, Sloane, Humbird, Ferrenby, and Blaine. Poor creature; Amory supposed she had never before been noticed in her life possibly she was half-witted. While she accompanied them Kerry had invited her to supper she said nothing which could discountenance such a belief. Amory was content to sit and watch the by-play, thinking what a light touch Kerry had, and how he could transform the barest incident into a thing of curve and contour.

    They all seemed to have the spirit of it more or less, and it was a relaxation to be with them. Amory usually liked men individually, yet feared Spanish bobbed: Cortado. Scott Fitzgerald 79 them in crowds unless the crowd was around him. He wondered how much each one contributed to the party, for there was somewhat of a spiritual tax levied. Alec and Kerry were the life of it, but not quite the centre.

    Somehow the quiet Humbird, and Sloane, with his impatient superciliousness, were the centre.

    Dick Humbird had, ever since freshman year, seemed to Amory a perfect type of aristocrat. He was slender but well-built black curly hair, straight features, and rather a dark skin. Everything he said sounded intangibly appropriate. He possessed infinite courage, an averagely good mind, and a sense of honor with a clear charm and noblesse oblige that varied it from righteousness. He was not a snob, though he knew only half his class. Servants worshipped him, and treated him like a god.

    He seemed the eternal example of what the upper class tries to be. This present type of party was made possible by the surging together of the class after club elections as if to make a last desperate attempt to know itself, to keep together, to fight off the tightening spirit of the clubs.

    It was a let-down from the conventional heights they had all walked so rigidly. After supper they saw Kaluka to the boardwalk, and then strolled back along the beach to Asbury. They had suppered greatly on their last eleven cents and, singing, strolled up through the casinos and lighted arches on the boardwalk, stopping to listen approvingly to all band concerts. In one place Kerry took up a collection for the French War Orphans which netted a dollar and twenty cents, and with this they bought some brandy in case they caught cold in the night.

    They finished the day in a moving-picture show and went into solemn systematic roars of laughter at an ancient comedy, to the startled annoyance of the rest of the audience. Their entrance was distinctly strategic, for each man as he entered pointed reproachfully at the one just behind him. Sloane, bringing up the rear, disclaimed all knowledge and responsibility as soon as the others were scattered inside; then as the irate ticket-taker rushed in he followed nonchalantly. They reassembled later by the Casino and made arrangements for the night.

    Kerry wormed permission from the watchman to sleep on the platform and, having collected a huge pile of rugs from the booths to serve as mattresses and blankets, they talked until midnight, and then fell into a dreamless sleep, though Amory tried hard to stay awake and watch that marvellous moon settle on the sea. So they progressed for two happy days, up and down the shore by street-car or machine, or by shoe-leather on the crowded boardwalk; sometimes eating with the wealthy, more frequently dining frugally at the expense of an unsuspecting restaurateur.

    They had their photos taken, eight poses, in a quickdevelopment store. The photographer probably has them yet at least, they never called for them. The weather was perfect, and Spanish annoyance: molestia. Scott Fitzgerald 81 again they slept outside, and again Amory fell unwillingly asleep. Sunday broke stolid and respectable, and even the sea seemed to mumble and complain, so they returned to Princeton via the Fords of transient farmers, and broke up with colds in their heads, but otherwise none the worse for wandering.

    Even more than in the year before, Amory neglected his work, not deliberately but lazily and through a multitude of other interests. Co-ordinate geometry and the melancholy hexameters of Corneille and Racine held forth small allurements, and even psychology, which he had eagerly awaited, proved to be a dull subject full of muscular reactions and biological phrases rather than the study of personality and influence.

    That was a noon class, and it always sent him dozing. They all cut more classes than were allowed, which meant an additional course the following year, but spring was too rare to let anything interfere with their colorful ramblings. All through the spring Amory had kept up an intermittent correspondence with Isabelle Borgi, punctuated by violent squabbles and chiefly enlivened by his attempts to find new words for love.

    He discovered Isabelle to be discreetly Spanish allurements: atractivos. I mean the future, you know. I may not come back next year. Give up college? I wish my girl lived here. But marry not a chance. Spanish agreed: acordado, convenido, de acuerdo, vale, entendido, conforme, asentido, concordado, en orden. Scott Fitzgerald 83 But Amory sighed and made use of the nights. He had a snap-shot of Isabelle, enshrined in an old watch, and at eight almost every night he would turn off all the lights except the desk lamp and, sitting by the open windows with the picture before him, write her rapturous letters.

    Your last letter came and it was wonderful! Be cure and be able to come to the prom. I often think over what you said on that night and wonder how much you meant. For I am through with everything. And so on in an eternal monotone that seemed to both of them infinitely charming, infinitely new. Then down deserted Prospect and along McCosh with song everywhere around them, up to the hot joviality of Nassau Street.

    Princeton invariably gives the thoughtful man a social sense. Amory laughed quietly. I might have been a pretty fair poet. You chose to come to an Eastern college. They reached the sleeping school of Lawrenceville, and turned to ride back. Oh, for a hot, languorous summer and Isabelle! By noon the bright-costumed alumni crowded the streets with their bands and choruses, and in the tents there was great reunion under the orange-and-black banners that curled and strained in the wind. It had been a gay party and different stages of sobriety were represented.

    Amory was in the car behind; they had taken the wrong road and lost the way, and so were hurrying to catch up. He had the ghost of two stanzas of a poem forming in his mind So the gray car crept nightward in the dark and there was no life stirred as it went by As the still ocean paths before the shark in starred and glittering waterways, beauty-high, the moon-swathed trees divided, pair on pair, while flapping night birds cried across the air A moment by an inn of lamps and shades, a yellow inn under a yellow moon then silence, where crescendo laughter fades Spanish adventure: aventura.

    Scott Fitzgerald 87 They jolted to a stop, and Amory peered up, startled. A woman was standing beside the road, talking to Alec at the wheel. Under the full light of a roadside arc-light lay a form, face downward in a widening circle of blood. Amory thought of the back of that head that hair— that hair The car turned over. Sloane, with his shoulder punctured, was on another lounge.

    He was half delirious, and kept calling something about a chemistry lecture at The doctor had arrived, and Amory went over to the couch, where some one handed him a sheet to put over the body. With a sudden hardness, he raised one of the hands and let it fall back inertly. The brow was cold but the face not Spanish calling: llamando, llamada. He looked at the shoe-laces—Dick had tied them that morning. He had tied them, and now he was this heavy white mass. All that remained of the charm and personality of the Dick Humbird he had known oh, it was all so horrible and unaristocratic and close to the earth.

    All tragedy has that strain of the grotesque and squalid so useless, futile Amory was reminded of a cat that had lain horribly mangled in some alley of his childhood. Next day, by a merciful chance, passed in a whirl. When Amory was by himself his thoughts zigzagged inevitably to the picture of that red mouth yawning incongruously in the white face, but with a determined effort he piled present excitement upon the memory of it and shut it coldly away from his mind.

    Isabelle and her mother drove into town at four, and they rode up smiling Prospect Avenue, through the gay crowd, to have tea at Cottage. The clubs had their annual dinners that night, so at seven he loaned her to a freshman and arranged to meet her in the gymnasium at eleven, when the upper classmen were admitted to the freshman dance. She was all he had expected, and he was happy and eager to make that night the centre of every dream. At nine the upper classes stood in front of the clubs as the freshman torchlight parade rioted past, and Amory wondered if the dress-suited groups against the dark, stately backgrounds and under the flare of the torches made the night as brilliant to the staring, cheering freshmen as it had been to him the year before.

    The next day was another whirl. Scott Fitzgerald 89 tenderly over the fried chicken and knew that their love was to be eternal. They danced away the prom until five, and the stags cut in on Isabelle with joyous abandon, which grew more and more enthusiastic as the hour grew late, and their wines, stored in overcoat pockets in the coat room, made old weariness wait until another day.

    The stag line is a most homogeneous mass of men. It fairly sways with a single soul. A dark-haired beauty dances by and there is a half-gasping sound as the ripple surges forward and some one sleeker than the rest darts out and cuts in. Then when the six-foot girl brought by Kaye in your class, and to whom he has been trying to introduce you all evening gallops by, the line surges back and the groups face about and become intent on far corners of the hall, for Kaye, anxious and perspiring, appears elbowing through the crowd in search of familiar faces.

    For a delicious hour that passed too soon they glided the silent roads about Princeton and talked from the surface of their hearts in shy excitement. Amory felt strangely ingenuous and made no attempt to kiss her. He was tempted to lean over and kiss away her tears, and she slipped her hand into his under cover of darkness to be pressed softly.

    As he put in his studs he realized that he was enjoying life as he would probably never enjoy it again. He had arrived, abreast of the best in his generation at Princeton. He was in love and his love was returned. Turning on all the lights, he looked at himself in the mirror, trying to find in his own face the qualities that made him see clearer than the great crowd of people, that made him decide firmly, and able to influence and follow his own will.

    There was little in his life now that he would have changed Oxford might have been a bigger field. How conveniently well he looked, and how well a dinner coat became him.

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    Full text of "Modern Spanish readings, embracing text, notes and an etymological vocabulary"

    He stepped into the hall and then waited at the top of the stairs, for he heard footsteps coming. It was Isabelle, and from the top of her shining hair to her little golden slippers she had never seemed so beautiful. As in the story-books, she ran into them, and on that half-minute, as their lips first touched, rested the high point of vanity, the crest of his young egotism. Spanish arms: brazos, los brazos, armas. Let me go! Spanish concentrated: concentrado. Amory stood there, covered with remorseful confusion. He became aware that he had not an ounce of real affection for Isabelle, but her coldness piqued him.

    He wanted to kiss her, kiss her a lot, because then he knew he could leave in the morning and not care. It would interfere vaguely with his idea of himself as a conqueror. Perhaps she suspected this. At any rate, Amory watched the night that should have been the consummation of romance glide by with great moths overhead and the heavy fragrance of roadside gardens, but without those broken words, those little sighs He had told her a lot of things.

    You just sat and watched my eyes. He rose abstractedly and they walked to the foot of the stairs. Good night. Scott Fitzgerald 95 They were at the head of the stairs, and as Amory turned into his room he thought he caught just the faintest cloud of discontent in her face. He lay awake in the darkness and wondered how much he cared—how much of his sudden unhappiness was hurt vanity whether he was, after all, temperamentally unfitted for romance.

    The early wind stirred the chintz curtains at the windows and he was idly puzzled not to be in his room at Princeton with his school football picture over the bureau and the Triangle Club on the wall opposite. He was out of bed, dressing, like the wind; he must get out of the house before he saw Isabelle. What had seemed a melancholy happening, now seemed a tiresome anticlimax. He was dressed at half past, so he sat down by the window; felt that the sinews of his heart were twisted somewhat more than he had thought.

    What an ironic mockery the morning seemed! There was a knock at the door. Yet that was what she had objected to in him; and Amory was suddenly tired of thinking, thinking! It seemed a stupid way to commence his upper-class years, to spend four hours a morning in the stuffy room of a tutoring school, imbibing the infinite boredom of conic sections.

    Rooney, pander to the dull, conducted the class and smoked innumerable Pall Malls as he drew diagrams and worked equations from six in the morning until midnight. Scott Fitzgerald 97 The room was a study in stupidity—two huge stands for paper, Mr. McDowell that Amory very nearly pushed him out of the open window when he said this Repeat that, Mr. He found it impossible to study conic sections; something in their calm and tantalizing respectability breathing defiantly through Mr. Somehow, with the defection of Isabelle the idea of undergraduate success had loosed its grasp on his imagination, and he contemplated a possible failure to pass off his condition with equanimity, even though it would arbitrarily mean his removal from the Princetonian board and the slaughter of his chances for the Senior Council.

    There was always his luck. He yawned, scribbled his honor pledge on the cover, and sauntered from the room. Your stock will go down like an elevator at the club and on the campus. Why rub it in? Better come up. Amory returned the gaze pointedly. Download Del cuerpo y sus eclipses PDF. Download Disparos en la oscuridad PDF. Download El diccionario del diablo PDF. Download Hubo una vez un general PDF. Download La gracia PDF. Download La guerra y la paz PDF. Download La realidad cambiante PDF. Download Maitasunez Download Solo sonetos PDF.

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