Смерть на Ниле / Death on the Nile - стр. 33

But the girl still shook her head.

‘You don’t understand.’ She shot him a quick look. ‘You know all about it, of course? You’ve talked to Linnet? And you were in the restaurant that night… Simon and I loved each other.’

‘I know that you loved him.’

She was quick to perceive the inflection of his words. She repeated with emphasis:

‘We loved each other. And I loved Linnet… I trusted her. She was my best friend. All her life Linnet has been able to buy everything she wanted. She’s never denied herself anything. When she saw Simon she wanted him – and she just took him.’

‘And he allowed himself to be – bought?’

Jacqueline shook her dark head slowly.

‘No, it’s not quite like that. If it were, I shouldn’t be here now… You’re suggesting that Simon isn’t worth caring for… If he’d married Linnet for her money, that would be true. But he didn’t marry her for her money. It’s more complicated than that. There’s such a thing as glamour, Monsieur Poirot. And money helps that. Linnet had an “atmosphere”, you see. She was the queen of a kingdom – the young princess – luxurious to her fingertips. It was like a stage setting. She had the world at her feet, one of the richest and most sought-after peers in England wanting to marry her. And she stoops instead to the obscure Simon Doyle… Do you wonder it went to his head?’ She made a sudden gesture. ‘Look at the moon up there. You see her very plainly, don’t you? She’s very real. But if the sun were to shine you wouldn’t be able to see her at all. It was rather like that. I was the moon… When the sun came out, Simon couldn’t see me any more… He was dazzled. He couldn’t see anything but the sun – Linnet.’

She paused and then she went on:

‘So you see it was – glamour. She went to his head. And then there’s her complete assurance – her habit of command. She’s so sure of herself that she makes other people sure. Simon was – weak, perhaps, but then he’s a very simple person. He would have loved me and me only if Linnet hadn’t come along and snatched him up in her golden chariot. And I know – I know perfectly – that he wouldn’t ever have fallen in love with her if she hadn’t made him.’

‘That is what you think – yes.’

‘I know it. He loved me – he will always love me.’

Poirot said:

‘Even now?’

A quick answer seemed to rise to her lips, then be stifled. She looked at Poirot and a deep burning colour spread over her face. She looked away, her head dropped down. She said in a low stifled voice:

‘Yes, I know. He hates me now. Yes, hates me… He’d better be careful.’