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The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, Chapter 7 Part 4

Chapter 7 Part 4

So we drove on toward death through the cooling twilight.

The young Greek, Michaelis, who ran the coffee joint beside the ash-heaps was the principal witness at the inquest. He had slept through the heat until after five, when he strolled over to the garage, and found George Wilson sick in his office—really sick, pale as his own pale hair and shaking all over. Michaelis advised him to go to bed, but Wilson refused, saying that he'd miss a lot of business if he did. While his neighbour was trying to persuade him a violent racket broke out overhead.

“I've got my wife locked in up there,” explained Wilson calmly. “She's going to stay there till the day after tomorrow, and then we're going to move away.”

Michaelis was astonished; they had been neighbours for four years, and Wilson had never seemed faintly capable of such a statement. Generally he was one of these worn-out men: when he wasn't working, he sat on a chair in the doorway and stared at the people and the cars that passed along the road. When anyone spoke to him he invariably laughed in an agreeable, colourless way. He was his wife's man and not his own.

So naturally Michaelis tried to find out what had happened, but Wilson wouldn't say a word—instead he began to throw curious, suspicious glances at his visitor and ask him what he'd been doing at certain times on certain days. Just as the latter was getting uneasy, some workmen came past the door bound for his restaurant, and Michaelis took the opportunity to get away, intending to come back later. But he didn't. He supposed he forgot to, that's all. When he came outside again, a little after seven, he was reminded of the conversation because he heard Mrs. Wilson's voice, loud and scolding, downstairs in the garage.

“Beat me!” he heard her cry. “Throw me down and beat me, you dirty little coward!”

A moment later she rushed out into the dusk, waving her hands and shouting—before he could move from his door the business was over.

The “death car” as the newspapers called it, didn't stop; it came out of the gathering darkness, wavered tragically for a moment, and then disappeared around the next bend. Mavro Michaelis wasn't even sure of its colour—he told the first policeman that it was light green. The other car, the one going toward New York, came to rest a hundred yards beyond, and its driver hurried back to where Myrtle Wilson, her life violently extinguished, knelt in the road and mingled her thick dark blood with the dust.

Michaelis and this man reached her first, but when they had torn open her shirtwaist, still damp with perspiration, they saw that her left breast was swinging loose like a flap, and there was no need to listen for the heart beneath. The mouth was wide open and ripped a little at the corners, as though she had choked a little in giving up the tremendous vitality she had stored so long.

We saw the three or four automobiles and the crowd when we were still some distance away.

“Wreck!” said Tom. “That's good. Wilson'll have a little business at last.”

He slowed down, but still without any intention of stopping, until, as we came nearer, the hushed, intent faces of the people at the garage door made him automatically put on the brakes.

“We'll take a look,” he said doubtfully, “just a look.”

I became aware now of a hollow, wailing sound which issued incessantly from the garage, a sound which as we got out of the coupé and walked toward the door resolved itself into the words “Oh, my God!” uttered over and over in a gasping moan.

“There's some bad trouble here,” said Tom excitedly.

He reached up on tiptoes and peered over a circle of heads into the garage, which was lit only by a yellow light in a swinging metal basket overhead. Then he made a harsh sound in his throat, and with a violent thrusting movement of his powerful arms pushed his way through.

The circle closed up again with a running murmur of expostulation; it was a minute before I could see anything at all. Then new arrivals deranged the line, and Jordan and I were pushed suddenly inside.

Myrtle Wilson's body, wrapped in a blanket, and then in another blanket, as though she suffered from a chill in the hot night, lay on a worktable by the wall, and Tom, with his back to us, was bending over it, motionless. Next to him stood a motorcycle policeman taking down names with much sweat and correction in a little book. At first I couldn't find the source of the high, groaning words that echoed clamorously through the bare garage—then I saw Wilson standing on the raised threshold of his office, swaying back and forth and holding to the doorposts with both hands. Some man was talking to him in a low voice and attempting, from time to time, to lay a hand on his shoulder, but Wilson neither heard nor saw. His eyes would drop slowly from the swinging light to the laden table by the wall, and then jerk back to the light again, and he gave out incessantly his high, horrible call:

“Oh, my Ga-od! Oh, my Ga-od! Oh, Ga-od! Oh, my Ga-od!”

Presently Tom lifted his head with a jerk and, after staring around the garage with glazed eyes, addressed a mumbled incoherent remark to the policeman.

M-a-v—” the policeman was saying, “—o—”

“No, r—” corrected the man, “M-a-v-r-o—”

“Listen to me!” muttered Tom fiercely.

r—” said the policeman, “o—”

g—”

g—” He looked up as Tom's broad hand fell sharply on his shoulder. “What you want, fella?”

“What happened?—that's what I want to know.”

“Auto hit her. Ins'antly killed.”

“Instantly killed,” repeated Tom, staring.

“She ran out ina road. Son-of-a-bitch didn't even stopus car.”

“There was two cars,” said Michaelis, “one comin', one goin', see?”

“Going where?” asked the policeman keenly.

“One goin' each way. Well, she”—his hand rose toward the blankets but stopped halfway and fell to his side—“she ran out there an' the one comin' from N'York knock right into her, goin' thirty or forty miles an hour.”

“What's the name of this place here?” demanded the officer.

“Hasn't got any name.”

A pale well-dressed negro stepped near.

“It was a yellow car,” he said, “big yellow car. New.”

“See the accident?” asked the policeman.

“No, but the car passed me down the road, going faster'n forty. Going fifty, sixty.”

“Come here and let's have your name. Look out now. I want to get his name.”

Some words of this conversation must have reached Wilson, swaying in the office door, for suddenly a new theme found voice among his grasping cries:

“You don't have to tell me what kind of car it was! I know what kind of car it was!”

Watching Tom, I saw the wad of muscle back of his shoulder tighten under his coat. He walked quickly over to Wilson and, standing in front of him, seized him firmly by the upper arms.

“You've got to pull yourself together,” he said with soothing gruffness.

Wilson's eyes fell upon Tom; he started up on his tiptoes and then would have collapsed to his knees had not Tom held him upright.

“Listen,” said Tom, shaking him a little. “I just got here a minute ago, from New York. I was bringing you that coupé we've been talking about. That yellow car I was driving this afternoon wasn't mine—do you hear? I haven't seen it all afternoon.”

Only the negro and I were near enough to hear what he said, but the policeman caught something in the tone and looked over with truculent eyes.

“What's all that?” he demanded.

“I'm a friend of his.” Tom turned his head but kept his hands firm on Wilson's body. “He says he knows the car that did it… It was a yellow car.”

Some dim impulse moved the policeman to look suspiciously at Tom.

“And what colour's your car?”

“It's a blue car, a coupé.”

“We've come straight from New York,” I said.

Someone who had been driving a little behind us confirmed this, and the policeman turned away.

“Now, if you'll let me have that name again correct—”

Picking up Wilson like a doll, Tom carried him into the office, set him down in a chair, and came back.

“If somebody'll come here and sit with him,” he snapped authoritatively. He watched while the two men standing closest glanced at each other and went unwillingly into the room. Then Tom shut the door on them and came down the single step, his eyes avoiding the table. As he passed close to me he whispered: “Let's get out.”

Self-consciously, with his authoritative arms breaking the way, we pushed through the still gathering crowd, passing a hurried doctor, case in hand, who had been sent for in wild hope half an hour ago.

Tom drove slowly until we were beyond the bend—then his foot came down hard, and the coupé raced along through the night. In a little while I heard a low husky sob, and saw that the tears were overflowing down his face.

“The God damned coward!” he whimpered. “He didn't even stop his car.”

The Buchanans' house floated suddenly toward us through the dark rustling trees. Tom stopped beside the porch and looked up at the second floor, where two windows bloomed with light among the vines.

“Daisy's home,” he said. As we got out of the car he glanced at me and frowned slightly.

“I ought to have dropped you in West Egg, Nick. There's nothing we can do tonight.”

A change had come over him, and he spoke gravely, and with decision. As we walked across the moonlight gravel to the porch he disposed of the situation in a few brisk phrases.

“I'll telephone for a taxi to take you home, and while you're waiting you and Jordan better go in the kitchen and have them get you some supper—if you want any.” He opened the door. “Come in.”

“No, thanks. But I'd be glad if you'd order me the taxi. I'll wait outside.”

Jordan put her hand on my arm.

“Won't you come in, Nick?”

“No, thanks.”

I was feeling a little sick and I wanted to be alone. But Jordan lingered for a moment more.

“It's only half-past nine,” she said.

I'd be damned if I'd go in; I'd had enough of all of them for one day, and suddenly that included Jordan too. She must have seen something of this in my expression, for she turned abruptly away and ran up the porch steps into the house. I sat down for a few minutes with my head in my hands, until I heard the phone taken up inside and the butler's voice calling a taxi. Then I walked slowly down the drive away from the house, intending to wait by the gate.

I hadn't gone twenty yards when I heard my name and Gatsby stepped from between two bushes into the path. I must have felt pretty weird by that time, because I could think of nothing except the luminosity of his pink suit under the moon.

“What are you doing?” I inquired.

“Just standing here, old sport.”

Somehow, that seemed a despicable occupation. For all I knew he was going to rob the house in a moment; I wouldn't have been surprised to see sinister faces, the faces of “Wolfshiem's people,” behind him in the dark shrubbery.

“Did you see any trouble on the road?” he asked after a minute.

“Yes.”

He hesitated.

“Was she killed?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so; I told Daisy I thought so. It's better that the shock should all come at once. She stood it pretty well.”

Chapter 7 Part 4 Kapitel 7 Teil 4 Capítulo 7, parte 4 第7章パート4 Rozdział 7 Część 4 Capítulo 7 Parte 4 Глава 7 Часть 4 Bölüm 7 Kısım 4 第 7 章 第 4 部分

So we drove on toward death through the cooling twilight. Così abbiamo proseguito verso la morte nel crepuscolo che si raffreddava. 因此,我们在凉爽的暮色中驶向死亡。

The young Greek, Michaelis, who ran the coffee joint beside the ash-heaps was the principal witness at the inquest. Il giovane greco Michaelis, che gestiva il caffè accanto ai cumuli di cenere, fu il principale testimone dell'inchiesta. He had slept through the heat until after five, when he strolled over to the garage, and found George Wilson sick in his office—really sick, pale as his own pale hair and shaking all over. Aveva dormito fino a dopo le cinque, quando si recò al garage e trovò George Wilson malato nel suo ufficio, veramente malato, pallido come i suoi stessi capelli pallidi e tremante dappertutto. Michaelis advised him to go to bed, but Wilson refused, saying that he'd miss a lot of business if he did. Michaelis gli consiglia di andare a letto, ma Wilson rifiuta, dicendo che avrebbe perso molti affari se lo avesse fatto. While his neighbour was trying to persuade him a violent racket broke out overhead. Mentre il suo vicino cercava di convincerlo, un violento frastuono si scatenò sopra di lui.

“I've got my wife locked in up there,” explained Wilson calmly. "Mia moglie è chiusa lì dentro", spiegò Wilson con calma. “She's going to stay there till the day after tomorrow, and then we're going to move away.” "Rimarrà lì fino a dopodomani e poi ce ne andremo".

Michaelis was astonished; they had been neighbours for four years, and Wilson had never seemed faintly capable of such a statement. Michaelis era stupito; erano vicini di casa da quattro anni e Wilson non era mai sembrato minimamente capace di una simile affermazione. Generally he was one of these worn-out men: when he wasn't working, he sat on a chair in the doorway and stared at the people and the cars that passed along the road. In genere era uno di quegli uomini logori: quando non lavorava, si sedeva su una sedia all'ingresso e fissava la gente e le auto che passavano lungo la strada. When anyone spoke to him he invariably laughed in an agreeable, colourless way. He was his wife's man and not his own. Era l'uomo di sua moglie e non il suo.

So naturally Michaelis tried to find out what had happened, but Wilson wouldn't say a word—instead he began to throw curious, suspicious glances at his visitor and ask him what he'd been doing at certain times on certain days. Just as the latter was getting uneasy, some workmen came past the door bound for his restaurant, and Michaelis took the opportunity to get away, intending to come back later. Proprio mentre quest'ultimo si stava inquietando, alcuni operai passarono davanti alla porta diretti al suo ristorante e Michaelis ne approfittò per allontanarsi, con l'intenzione di tornare più tardi. But he didn't. He supposed he forgot to, that's all. Supponeva di essersi dimenticato di farlo, tutto qui. When he came outside again, a little after seven, he was reminded of the conversation because he heard Mrs. Wilson's voice, loud and scolding, downstairs in the garage. Quando uscì di nuovo, poco dopo le sette, gli tornò in mente la conversazione, perché sentì la voce della signora Wilson, forte e sgridata, al piano di sotto, nel garage.

“Beat me!” he heard her cry. “Throw me down and beat me, you dirty little coward!” "Buttatemi a terra e picchiatemi, sporchi vigliacchi!".

A moment later she rushed out into the dusk, waving her hands and shouting—before he could move from his door the business was over. Un attimo dopo si precipitò fuori nel crepuscolo, agitando le mani e gridando: prima che lui potesse muoversi dalla porta, l'affare era finito.

The “death car” as the newspapers called it, didn't stop; it came out of the gathering darkness, wavered tragically for a moment, and then disappeared around the next bend. La "macchina della morte", come la chiamarono i giornali, non si fermò; uscì dall'oscurità crescente, vacillò tragicamente per un momento e poi scomparve dietro la curva successiva. Mavro Michaelis wasn't even sure of its colour—he told the first policeman that it was light green. The other car, the one going toward New York, came to rest a hundred yards beyond, and its driver hurried back to where Myrtle Wilson, her life violently extinguished, knelt in the road and mingled her thick dark blood with the dust. L'altra macchina, quella che andava verso New York, si fermò un centinaio di metri più in là, e il suo autista si affrettò a tornare dove Myrtle Wilson, la cui vita si era violentemente spenta, si inginocchiò sulla strada e mescolò il suo sangue denso e scuro alla polvere.

Michaelis and this man reached her first, but when they had torn open her shirtwaist, still damp with perspiration, they saw that her left breast was swinging loose like a flap, and there was no need to listen for the heart beneath. Michaelis e quest'uomo la raggiunsero per primi, ma quando ebbero aperto la cintura della camicia, ancora umida di sudore, videro che il seno sinistro oscillava come un lembo, e non ci fu bisogno di ascoltare il cuore sottostante. The mouth was wide open and ripped a little at the corners, as though she had choked a little in giving up the tremendous vitality she had stored so long. La bocca era spalancata e un po' strappata agli angoli, come se avesse soffocato un po' la tremenda vitalità che aveva immagazzinato per tanto tempo.

We saw the three or four automobiles and the crowd when we were still some distance away.

“Wreck!” said Tom. "Relitto!", disse Tom. “That's good. Wilson'll have a little business at last.” Wilson avrà finalmente un piccolo affare".

He slowed down, but still without any intention of stopping, until, as we came nearer, the hushed, intent faces of the people at the garage door made him automatically put on the brakes. Rallentò, ma sempre senza intenzione di fermarsi, finché, quando ci avvicinammo, le facce silenziose e intente delle persone alla porta del garage lo indussero a frenare automaticamente.

“We'll take a look,” he said doubtfully, “just a look.”

I became aware now of a hollow, wailing sound which issued incessantly from the garage, a sound which as we got out of the coupé and walked toward the door resolved itself into the words “Oh, my God!” uttered over and over in a gasping moan. Mi accorsi ora di un suono vuoto e lamentoso che proveniva incessantemente dal garage, un suono che, mentre scendevamo dal coupé e ci dirigevamo verso la porta, si risolse nelle parole "Oh, mio Dio!" pronunciate più e più volte in un gemito ansimante.

“There's some bad trouble here,” said Tom excitedly. "C'è un brutto guaio qui", disse Tom eccitato.

He reached up on tiptoes and peered over a circle of heads into the garage, which was lit only by a yellow light in a swinging metal basket overhead. Si alzò in punta di piedi e sbirciò oltre un cerchio di teste nel garage, che era illuminato solo da una luce gialla in un cesto metallico oscillante sopra la testa. Then he made a harsh sound in his throat, and with a violent thrusting movement of his powerful arms pushed his way through. Poi emise un suono aspro in gola e con un violento movimento di spinta delle sue potenti braccia si fece strada.

The circle closed up again with a running murmur of expostulation; it was a minute before I could see anything at all. Il cerchio si richiuse con un continuo mormorio di proteste; passò un minuto prima che riuscissi a vedere qualcosa. Then new arrivals deranged the line, and Jordan and I were pushed suddenly inside.

Myrtle Wilson's body, wrapped in a blanket, and then in another blanket, as though she suffered from a chill in the hot night, lay on a worktable by the wall, and Tom, with his back to us, was bending over it, motionless. Il corpo di Myrtle Wilson, avvolto in una coperta e poi in un'altra, come se avesse sofferto il freddo della notte calda, giaceva su un tavolo da lavoro vicino al muro e Tom, di spalle, era chino su di esso, immobile. Next to him stood a motorcycle policeman taking down names with much sweat and correction in a little book. Accanto a lui c'era un poliziotto in motocicletta che annotava i nomi con molto sudore e correzione in un piccolo libro. At first I couldn't find the source of the high, groaning words that echoed clamorously through the bare garage—then I saw Wilson standing on the raised threshold of his office, swaying back and forth and holding to the doorposts with both hands. All'inizio non riuscii a trovare la fonte delle parole alte e lamentose che risuonavano clamorosamente nel garage spoglio, poi vidi Wilson in piedi sulla soglia rialzata del suo ufficio, che ondeggiava avanti e indietro e si teneva allo stipite con entrambe le mani. Some man was talking to him in a low voice and attempting, from time to time, to lay a hand on his shoulder, but Wilson neither heard nor saw. His eyes would drop slowly from the swinging light to the laden table by the wall, and then jerk back to the light again, and he gave out incessantly his high, horrible call: I suoi occhi si abbassavano lentamente dalla luce oscillante al tavolo carico vicino al muro, per poi tornare di nuovo alla luce, ed emetteva incessantemente il suo alto, orribile richiamo:

“Oh, my Ga-od! Oh, my Ga-od! Oh, Ga-od! Oh, my Ga-od!”

Presently Tom lifted his head with a jerk and, after staring around the garage with glazed eyes, addressed a mumbled incoherent remark to the policeman. A un certo punto Tom sollevò la testa con uno scatto e, dopo aver fissato il garage con occhi vitrei, rivolse al poliziotto un borbottio incoerente.

“__M__-__a__-__v__—” the policeman was saying, “—__o__—”

“No, __r__—” corrected the man, “__M__-__a__-__v__-__r__-__o__—” "No, r-" si corregge l'uomo, "M-a-v-r-o-".

“Listen to me!” muttered Tom fiercely.

“__r__—” said the policeman, “__o__—”

“__g__—”

“__g__—” He looked up as Tom's broad hand fell sharply on his shoulder. "Alzò lo sguardo quando l'ampia mano di Tom si posò bruscamente sulla sua spalla. “What you want, fella?”

“What happened?—that's what I want to know.”

“Auto hit her. Ins'antly killed.”

“Instantly killed,” repeated Tom, staring.

“She ran out ina road. Son-of-a-bitch didn't even stopus car.” Il figlio di puttana non ha nemmeno fermato la macchina".

“There was two cars,” said Michaelis, “one comin', one goin', see?”

“Going where?” asked the policeman keenly. "Per andare dove?" chiese acutamente il poliziotto.

“One goin' each way. Well, she”—his hand rose toward the blankets but stopped halfway and fell to his side—“she ran out there an' the one comin' from N'York knock right into her, goin' thirty or forty miles an hour.” Beh, lei" - la sua mano si alzò verso le coperte, ma si fermò a metà strada e ricadde sul fianco - "corse là fuori e quello che veniva da N'York le andò addosso, andando a trenta o quaranta miglia all'ora".

“What's the name of this place here?” demanded the officer.

“Hasn't got any name.” "Non ha un nome".

A pale well-dressed negro stepped near. Un negro pallido e ben vestito si avvicinò.

“It was a yellow car,” he said, “big yellow car. New.”

“See the accident?” asked the policeman.

“No, but the car passed me down the road, going faster'n forty. "No, ma l'auto mi ha sorpassato lungo la strada, andando più veloce di quaranta. Going fifty, sixty.”

“Come here and let's have your name. Look out now. I want to get his name.” Voglio sapere il suo nome".

Some words of this conversation must have reached Wilson, swaying in the office door, for suddenly a new theme found voice among his grasping cries: Alcune parole di questa conversazione devono aver raggiunto Wilson, che ondeggiava nella porta dell'ufficio, perché improvvisamente un nuovo tema trovò voce tra le sue grida affannose:

“You don't have to tell me what kind of car it was! "Non c'è bisogno che mi dica che tipo di macchina era! I know what kind of car it was!”

Watching Tom, I saw the wad of muscle back of his shoulder tighten under his coat. Osservando Tom, vidi il batuffolo di muscoli dietro la spalla stringersi sotto il cappotto. He walked quickly over to Wilson and, standing in front of him, seized him firmly by the upper arms. Si avvicinò rapidamente a Wilson e, stando di fronte a lui, lo afferrò saldamente per le braccia.

“You've got to pull yourself together,” he said with soothing gruffness. "Devi darti una regolata", mi disse con una burrosità rassicurante.

Wilson's eyes fell upon Tom; he started up on his tiptoes and then would have collapsed to his knees had not Tom held him upright. Gli occhi di Wilson caddero su Tom; si alzò in punta di piedi e poi sarebbe crollato in ginocchio se Tom non lo avesse tenuto in piedi.

“Listen,” said Tom, shaking him a little. “I just got here a minute ago, from New York. I was bringing you that coupé we've been talking about. That yellow car I was driving this afternoon wasn't mine—do you hear? I haven't seen it all afternoon.”

Only the negro and I were near enough to hear what he said, but the policeman caught something in the tone and looked over with truculent eyes. Solo il negro e io eravamo abbastanza vicini per sentire quello che diceva, ma il poliziotto colse qualcosa nel tono e guardò con occhi truculenti.

“What's all that?” he demanded.

“I'm a friend of his.” Tom turned his head but kept his hands firm on Wilson's body. “He says he knows the car that did it… It was a yellow car.” "Dice di conoscere l'auto che l'ha fatto... Era un'auto gialla".

Some dim impulse moved the policeman to look suspiciously at Tom. Un impulso sottile spinse il poliziotto a guardare Tom con sospetto.

“And what colour's your car?”

“It's a blue car, a coupé.”

“We've come straight from New York,” I said.

Someone who had been driving a little behind us confirmed this, and the policeman turned away.

“Now, if you'll let me have that name again correct—”

Picking up Wilson like a doll, Tom carried him into the office, set him down in a chair, and came back.

“If somebody'll come here and sit with him,” he snapped authoritatively. "Se qualcuno viene qui e si siede con lui", disse in modo autoritario. He watched while the two men standing closest glanced at each other and went unwillingly into the room. Osservò i due uomini più vicini che si guardavano l'un l'altro ed entrarono di malavoglia nella stanza. Then Tom shut the door on them and came down the single step, his eyes avoiding the table. As he passed close to me he whispered: “Let's get out.” Mentre mi passava vicino, sussurrò: "Usciamo".

Self-consciously, with his authoritative arms breaking the way, we pushed through the still gathering crowd, passing a hurried doctor, case in hand, who had been sent for in wild hope half an hour ago. Con autoconsapevolezza, con le sue braccia autorevoli che ci aprivano la strada, ci spingemmo tra la folla che si stava ancora radunando, passando davanti a un medico frettoloso, con la valigetta in mano, che era stato mandato a chiamare con una speranza sfrenata mezz'ora prima.

Tom drove slowly until we were beyond the bend—then his foot came down hard, and the coupé raced along through the night. Tom guidò lentamente fino a quando non fummo oltre la curva; poi il suo piede scese con forza e la coupé sfrecciò nella notte. In a little while I heard a low husky sob, and saw that the tears were overflowing down his face.

“The God damned coward!” he whimpered. "Quel maledetto codardo!", mugolò. “He didn't even stop his car.”

The Buchanans' house floated suddenly toward us through the dark rustling trees. La casa dei Buchanan fluttuò improvvisamente verso di noi attraverso il fruscio scuro degli alberi. Tom stopped beside the porch and looked up at the second floor, where two windows bloomed with light among the vines. Tom si fermò accanto al portico e guardò il secondo piano, dove due finestre sbocciavano di luce tra le viti.

“Daisy's home,” he said. As we got out of the car he glanced at me and frowned slightly. Quando scendemmo dall'auto, mi guardò e aggrottò leggermente le sopracciglia.

“I ought to have dropped you in West Egg, Nick. "Avrei dovuto lasciarti a West Egg, Nick. There's nothing we can do tonight.”

A change had come over him, and he spoke gravely, and with decision. As we walked across the moonlight gravel to the porch he disposed of the situation in a few brisk phrases. Mentre camminavamo sulla ghiaia al chiaro di luna fino al portico, egli si sbarazzò della situazione con poche frasi concitate.

“I'll telephone for a taxi to take you home, and while you're waiting you and Jordan better go in the kitchen and have them get you some supper—if you want any.” He opened the door. "Telefonerò per chiamare un taxi che ti porti a casa, e mentre aspetti tu e Jordan farete meglio ad andare in cucina a farvi portare la cena, se ne volete". Aprì la porta. “Come in.”

“No, thanks. But I'd be glad if you'd order me the taxi. I'll wait outside.”

Jordan put her hand on my arm.

“Won't you come in, Nick?”

“No, thanks.”

I was feeling a little sick and I wanted to be alone. Mi sentivo un po' male e volevo stare da sola. But Jordan lingered for a moment more. Ma Jordan indugiò ancora un attimo.

“It's only half-past nine,” she said.

I'd be damned if I'd go in; I'd had enough of all of them for one day, and suddenly that included Jordan too. She must have seen something of this in my expression, for she turned abruptly away and ran up the porch steps into the house. I sat down for a few minutes with my head in my hands, until I heard the phone taken up inside and the butler's voice calling a taxi. Rimasi seduto per qualche minuto con la testa tra le mani, finché non sentii il telefono che si alzava all'interno e la voce del maggiordomo che chiamava un taxi. Then I walked slowly down the drive away from the house, intending to wait by the gate.

I hadn't gone twenty yards when I heard my name and Gatsby stepped from between two bushes into the path. Non avevo fatto venti metri quando sentii il mio nome e Gatsby sbucò da due cespugli sul sentiero. I must have felt pretty weird by that time, because I could think of nothing except the luminosity of his pink suit under the moon. Dovevo sentirmi piuttosto strano a quel punto, perché non riuscivo a pensare a nulla se non alla luminosità del suo vestito rosa sotto la luna.

“What are you doing?” I inquired.

“Just standing here, old sport.”

Somehow, that seemed a despicable occupation. In qualche modo, sembrava un'occupazione spregevole. For all I knew he was going to rob the house in a moment; I wouldn't have been surprised to see sinister faces, the faces of “Wolfshiem's people,” behind him in the dark shrubbery. Per quanto ne sapevo, stava per svaligiare la casa in un attimo; non mi sarei sorpreso di vedere dietro di lui, tra i cespugli scuri, volti sinistri, quelli della "gente di Wolfshiem".

“Did you see any trouble on the road?” he asked after a minute. "Hai visto qualche problema sulla strada?", chiese dopo un minuto.

“Yes.”

He hesitated.

“Was she killed?” "È stata uccisa?"

“Yes.”

“I thought so; I told Daisy I thought so. "Lo pensavo; ho detto a Daisy che lo pensavo. It's better that the shock should all come at once. È meglio che lo shock arrivi tutto insieme. 震惊最好是同时发生。 She stood it pretty well.” Ha resistito abbastanza bene".