This Side of Paradise, F. Scott Fitzgerald [best novels for teenagers TXT] 📗
- Author: F. Scott Fitzgerald
Book online «This Side of Paradise, F. Scott Fitzgerald [best novels for teenagers TXT] 📗». Author F. Scott Fitzgerald
There aren’t any. Men don’t know how to be really angry or really happy—and the ones that do, go to pieces.
CeceliaWell, I’m glad I don’t have all your worries. I’m engaged.
RosalindWith a scornful smile. Engaged? Why, you little lunatic! If mother heard you talking like that she’d send you off to boarding-school, where you belong.
CeceliaYou won’t tell her, though, because I know things I could tell—and you’re too selfish!
RosalindA little annoyed. Run along, little girl! Who are you engaged to, the iceman? the man that keeps the candy-store?
CeceliaCheap wit—goodbye, darling, I’ll see you later.
RosalindOh, be sure and do that—you’re such a help.
Exit Cecelia. Rosalind finished her hair and rises, humming. She goes up to the mirror and starts to dance in front of it on the soft carpet. She watches not her feet, but her eyes—never casually but always intently, even when she smiles. The door suddenly opens and then slams behind Amory, very cool and handsome as usual. He melts into instant confusion.
HeOh, I’m sorry. I thought—
SheSmiling radiantly. Oh, you’re Amory Blaine, aren’t you?
HeRegarding her closely. And you’re Rosalind?
SheI’m going to call you Amory—oh, come in—it’s all right—mother’ll be right in—under her breath. unfortunately.
HeGazing around. This is sort of a new wrinkle for me.
SheThis is No Man’s Land.
HeThis is where you—you—pause.
SheYes—all those things. She crosses to the bureau. See, here’s my rouge—eye pencils.
HeI didn’t know you were that way.
SheWhat did you expect?
HeI thought you’d be sort of—sort of—sexless, you know, swim and play golf.
SheOh, I do—but not in business hours.
HeBusiness?
SheSix to two—strictly.
HeI’d like to have some stock in the corporation.
SheOh, it’s not a corporation—it’s just “Rosalind, Unlimited.” Fifty-one shares, name, goodwill, and everything goes at $25,000 a year.
HeDisapprovingly. Sort of a chilly proposition.
SheWell, Amory, you don’t mind—do you? When I meet a man that doesn’t bore me to death after two weeks, perhaps it’ll be different.
HeOdd, you have the same point of view on men that I have on women.
SheI’m not really feminine, you know—in my mind.
HeInterested. Go on.
SheNo, you—you go on—you’ve made me talk about myself. That’s against the rules.
HeRules?
SheMy own rules—but you—Oh, Amory, I hear you’re brilliant. The family expects so much of you.
HeHow encouraging!
SheAlec said you’d taught him to think. Did you? I didn’t believe anyone could.
HeNo. I’m really quite dull.
He evidently doesn’t intend this to be taken seriously.
SheLiar.
HeI’m—I’m religious—I’m literary. I’ve—I’ve even written poems.
SheVers libre—splendid! She declaims.
“The trees are green,
The birds are singing in the trees,
The girl sips her poison
The bird flies away the girl dies.”
Laughing. No, not that kind.
SheSuddenly. I like you.
HeDon’t.
SheModest too—
HeI’m afraid of you. I’m always afraid of a girl—until I’ve kissed her.
SheEmphatically. My dear boy, the war is over.
HeSo I’ll always be afraid of you.
SheRather sadly. I suppose you will.
A slight hesitation on both their parts.
HeAfter due consideration. Listen. This is a frightful thing to ask.
SheKnowing what’s coming. After five minutes.
HeBut will you—kiss me? Or are you afraid?
SheI’m never afraid—but your reasons are so poor.
HeRosalind, I really want to kiss you.
SheSo do I.
They kiss—definitely and thoroughly.
HeAfter a breathless second. Well, is your curiosity satisfied?
SheIs yours?
HeNo, it’s only aroused.
He looks it.
SheDreamily. I’ve kissed dozens of men. I suppose I’ll kiss dozens more.
HeAbstractedly. Yes, I suppose you could—like that.
SheMost people like the way I kiss.
HeRemembering himself. Good Lord, yes. Kiss me once more, Rosalind.
SheNo—my curiosity is generally satisfied at one.
HeDiscouraged. Is that a rule?
SheI make rules to fit the cases.
HeYou and I are somewhat alike—except that I’m years older in experience.
SheHow old are you?
HeAlmost twenty-three. You?
SheNineteen—just.
HeI suppose you’re the product of a fashionable school.
SheNo—I’m fairly raw material. I was expelled from Spence—I’ve forgotten why.
HeWhat’s your general trend?
SheOh, I’m bright, quite selfish, emotional when aroused, fond of admiration—
HeSuddenly. I don’t want to fall in love with you—
SheRaising her eyebrows. Nobody asked you to.
HeContinuing coldly. But I probably will. I love your mouth.
SheHush! Please don’t fall in love with my mouth—hair, eyes, shoulders, slippers—but not my mouth. Everybody falls in love with my mouth.
HeIt’s quite beautiful.
SheIt’s too small.
HeNo it isn’t—let’s see.
He kisses her again with the same thoroughness.
SheRather moved. Say something sweet.
HeFrightened. Lord help me.
SheDrawing away. Well, don’t—if it’s so hard.
HeShall we pretend? So soon?
SheWe haven’t the same standards of time as other people.
HeAlready it’s—other people.
SheLet’s pretend.
HeNo—I can’t—it’s sentiment.
SheYou’re not sentimental?
HeNo, I’m romantic—a sentimental person thinks things will last—a romantic person hopes against hope that they won’t. Sentiment is emotional.
SheAnd you’re not? With her eyes half-closed. You probably flatter yourself that that’s a superior attitude.
HeWell—Rosalind, Rosalind, don’t argue—kiss me again.
SheQuite chilly now. No—I have no desire to kiss you.
HeOpenly taken aback. You wanted to kiss me a minute ago.
SheThis is now.
HeI’d better go.
SheI suppose so.
He goes toward the door.
SheOh!
He turns.
SheLaughing. Score—Home Team: One hundred—Opponents: Zero.
He starts back.
SheQuickly. Rain—no game.
He goes out.
She goes quietly to the chiffonier, takes out a cigarette-case and hides it in the side drawer of a desk. Her mother enters, notebook in hand.
Mrs. ConnageGood—I’ve been wanting to speak to you alone before we go downstairs.
RosalindHeavens! you frighten me!
Mrs. ConnageRosalind, you’ve been a very expensive proposition.
RosalindResignedly. Yes.
Mrs. ConnageAnd you know your father hasn’t what he once had.
RosalindMaking a wry face. Oh, please don’t talk about money.
Mrs. ConnageYou
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