The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and Selected Tales of the Jazz Age Сollection. Адаптированная книга для чтения на английском языке. Уровень B1. Фрэнсис Скотт Фицджеральд

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young beautiful lady. Benjamin trembled; an almost chemical reaction seemed to change all the elements of his body. A fever passed over him, blood rose into his cheeks, his forehead, and there was a painful noise in his ears. It was first love.

      The girl was slender and tender, her hair was dark under the moon and honey-colored under the gas-lamps of the doorway.

      Roger Button leaned over to his son. «That», he said, «is young Hildegarde Moncrief, the daughter of General Moncrief».

      Benjamin nodded coldly. «Pretty little thing», he said. But when the negro boy had taken their carriage away, he added: «Dad, can you introduce me to her?»

      They approached a group, where Miss Moncrief was the centre. She made a low curtsy before Benjamin in the old tradition manner. Yes, he might have a dance. He thanked her and walked away – staggered away.

      The time for his turn seemed endless. He stood close to the wall, silent, mysterious, watching with jealous eyes the young men of Baltimore as they moved around Hildegarde Moncrief, with passionate admiration in their faces. How disgusting they seemed to Benjamin; how young and rosy! Their brown hair made him feel sick.

      But when his own time came, and he moved with her in a dance to the music of the latest waltz from Paris, his jealousy and worry melted from him like snow. Blind with delight, he felt that life was just beginning.

      «You and your brother got here just as we did, didn't you?» asked Hildegarde, looking up at him with eyes that were like bright blue enamel.

      Benjamin hesitated. If she took him for his father's brother, would it be best to tell her the truth? He remembered his experience at Yale, so he decided against it. It would be rude to argue with a lady; it would be criminal to ruin this wonderful moment with the grotesque story of his birth. Later, perhaps. So he nodded, smiled, listened, was happy.

      «I like men of your age», Hildegarde told him. «Young boys are so idiotic. They tell me how much champagne they drink at college, and how much money they lose playing cards. Men of your age know how to understand women».

      Benjamin felt he was about to propose to her immediately – with an effort he resisted the desire.

      «You're just the romantic age», she continued. «Fifty. Twenty-five pretends to be wise and experienced; thirty is pale from overwork; forty is the age of long and dull stories; sixty is – oh, sixty is too near seventy; but fifty is the proper age. I love fifty».

      Fifty seemed to Benjamin a wonderful age. He wished passionately to be fifty.

      «I've always said», went on Hildegarde, «that I'd rather marry[28] a man of fifty who would take care of me than marry a man of thirty and take care of him».

      For Benjamin the rest of the evening was in a honey-colored dream. Hildegarde gave him two more dances, and they discovered that they had the same attitudes to all the questions of the day. She agreed to go driving with him on the following Sunday, and then they would discuss all these questions further.

      On his way home in the carriage just before the dawn, Benjamin suddenly heard that his father was discussing wholesale hardware.

      «… And what do you think should draw our biggest attention after hammers and nails?» the elder Button was saying.

      «Love», replied Benjamin absent-mindedly.

      «Lugs?» exclaimed Roger Button, «Why, I've just covered the question of lugs».

      Benjamin looked at him with astonished eyes just as sunlight burst into the eastern sky suddenly, and a bird sang loudly in the tree…

      Chapter 6

      When, six months later, the engagement of Miss Hildegarde Moncrief to Mr. Benjamin Button was made known (I say «made known», because General Moncrief declared that he would rather fall upon his sword than[29] announce it), the fever of excitement in Baltimore society reached its peak. The almost forgotten story of Benjamin's birth was remembered and spread out upon the winds of scandal in incredible forms as an adventure novel. It was said that Benjamin was really the father of Roger Button; that he was his brother who had spent forty years in prison; that he was John Wilkes Booth[30] in disguise – and, finally, that he had two small conical horns hidden on his head.

      The Sunday New York newspapers presented the case with fascinating pictures which showed the head of Benjamin Button attached to a fish, or to a snake. He became known, among journalists, as the Mystery Man of Maryland. But the true story, as it usually happens, was known only to a few people.

      However, every one agreed with General Moncrief that it was «criminal» for a lovely girl who could marry any handsome young man in Baltimore to throw herself into the arms of a man who was surely fifty. Mr. Roger Button published his son's birth certificate in large type in the Baltimore city newspaper but in vain[31]. No one believed it. You had only to look at Benjamin and see.

      The two people, who were most concerned parties[32], had no hesitations. So many of the stories about her bridegroom were false that Hildegarde refused stubbornly to believe even the true one. In vain General Moncrief pointed out to her the high risk of deaths among men of fifty – or, at least, among men who looked fifty; in vain he told her of the instability of the wholesale hardware business. Hildegarde had chosen to marry a middle-aged gentleman, and she married…

      Chapter 7

      In one thing, at least, the friends of Hildegarde Moncrief were mistaken. The wholesale hardware business was extremely successful. In the fifteen years between Benjamin Button's marriage in 1880 and his father's retirement in 1895, the family capital was doubled – and this was due largely to the younger member of the firm.

      Of course, Baltimore accepted the couple in the end. Even old General Moncrief made peace[33] with his son-in-law when Benjamin gave him the money to publish his History of the Civil War in twenty volumes, after nine famous publishers had refused to take it.

      There were many changes in Benjamin himself during these fifteen years. It seemed to him that the blood flowed with new energy through his body. It began to be a pleasure to get up in the morning, to walk with an active step along the busy, sunny street, to work long hours with his shipments of hammers and his cargoes of nails. In 1890 he produced his famous business revolution which led to a surprising success: he made the suggestion that all nails used in nailing up the boxes in which nails are shipped are the property of the company-receiver of cargo. The suggestion was approved by Chief Justice[34], became a law, and saved Roger Button and Company, Wholesale Hardware, more than six hundred nails every year.

      In addition, Benjamin discovered that he was becoming more and more attracted by the active side of life. He felt his growing enthusiasm for pleasure – he was the first man in the city of Baltimore who bought and drove an automobile. The citizens about the same age, when they met him on the street, were looking with jealous eyes at the picture he made of health and energy.

      «He seems to grow younger every year», they remarked. And old Roger Button, now sixty-five years old, who had failed at first to give a proper welcome to his son, was trying to compensate for his mistake at last by looking at Benjamin with admiration.

      And here we come to an unpleasant matter which should be passed over as quickly as possible. There was only one thing that worried Benjamin Button; his wife didn't attract him any longer.

      At that time Hildegarde was a woman of thirty-five, with a son, Roscoe, fourteen years old. In the early days of their marriage Benjamin had loved and admired her very much. But, as the years passed, her honey-colored hair became dull brown, the blue enamel of her eyes turned into a cheap dirty dishes – moreover, and, most of all, she had become too set in her ways[35], too calm, too satisfied, too lifeless in her excitements, and too rational in her taste.

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