Читаем без скачивания Letters from beyond - Тигрис Рафаэль

of an ardent lover that there was not even a shadow of doubt about the sincerity of his feelings.

Yes, indeed, heaven wanted Monica to stay alive, if only for the sake of this wonderful Parisian boy. Together they immediately rushed to the hospital and found her saved and smiling. The diamond pendant and earrings presented to her on the eve of Kshesinskaya were already showing off on her as amulets.

And then Robert remembered that on that fateful day he had not even bothered to look at Monica's body, even if it was dead. But a fall from the third floor is not necessarily fatal. That evening he got drunk to the point of stupefaction, and in the morning he rushed to Nice for the alleged treasures of Kshesinskaya. Did the glitter of gold cloud his mind so much that he completely forgot about his faithful companion?

But unlike him, Pierre, following the call of his heart, found his beloved, and this was their main difference.

— Monica! I am guilty before you, — only Robert could say in justification.

Already on the first night after sailing from French Brest, a wave of depression swept over Robert from loneliness. He was used to having Monica around during the day and especially at night, and although they were not in any official relationship, this did not prevent her from being his integral companion.

Robert remembered with what a happy smile Monica saw him off on a long voyage. How they joyfully waved after him with Pierre. There was not a shadow of sadness on the face of his assistant. But she remained forever in a foreign country, away from friends and relatives. This was due to the presence of true love that broke out between Monica and Pierre, and Robert could only envy.

With the first rays of the sun, he went out on the deck of the ship and decided, having taken up graphomania, to dispel the night depression.

“Dear Madame Kshesinskaya! I am a reporter for the weekly North American Review, Robert Jackson, writing this message to you on the deck of the ship «New World», on which I am returning from France to America. I deliberately did not fly by plane and chose a sea trip. There are good reasons for this, which I will now explain. In life, I am most afraid of two things: ugly women and flying on airplanes. I try my best to avoid these two things. But I will not prevaricate — this time I preferred a sea voyage also because I decided to comprehend alone a lot that happened to me lately, and not without your participation.

Let it be known to you that Monica survived and stayed in Paris. Yes, don't be surprised. Whether you like it or not, she survived all the deaths out of spite and thanks to the love she found in Paris. It was with her that you acted too cruelly. If Marek and Josephine deserved punishment, then Monica should not have died, and therefore the arbiters of fate in heaven intervened in time and did not allow this. On the contrary, they gave her love.

Surprisingly, it was you who contributed to her love. In that jewelry store where you sent her to pierce her ears, she met a nice guy named Pierre, and they fell in love at first sight. I will not hide — until the moment Monica, at your instigation, fell out of the window of the third floor, she began to have all the signs of rebirth towards female greed, vanity and the subsequent fall into sin. But as they say in the Russian proverb — there would be no happiness, but misfortune helped. Monica after this tragedy returned to her previous state. Well, I had no choice but to leave the jewelry salon that you transferred to me as the property to young lovers, but on the condition that they would always patronize an orphanage in the city of Nice.

I have no regrets about what I did. The only thing I regret now is that I lost such a partner, companion and assistant as Monica, although I understand that with me she could not find the happiness that she found with Pierre. But there is also consolation. Having lost Monica, I have the opportunity to regain my own, my own happiness».

After writing the last line, Robert became thoughtful. How does he intend to bring the letter to the addressee? After all, Kshesinskaya has long been in the next world, which means that someone is needed to take her there. Does that someone have to be him? Well, I do not. After all, he had just finished the letter on a life-affirming note. Then, the question is why did he write these lines, if no one will read them?

“All the same, you, sir, although a capable scribbler, are a complete graphomaniac,” Robert thought to himself with a grin.

He looked at the bright sunny sky, at the azure waves overboard, at the seagulls noisily accompanying the ship, and realized that life is so beautiful that no paper depression could drive him to suicide in order to convey this stupid letter to a hundred-year old woman.

Yes, he does not know how to swim and, like an ax, he will immediately go to the bottom, but this does not mean that he will take and leave this whole magnificent world full of love and joy and become food for fish.

At this time, a young lady appeared on deck with a parasol. She was wearing a long white dress. A high hairstyle, exposing a delicate neck and a nose honed in the Irish manner, immediately attracted the attention of a failed drowned man.

Before the eyes of an American, a typical oil painting arose: the vast expanse of the sea, azure waves, a white ship, on the deck of which a young charming woman dressed in white walks around with a