The Collected Works of W. Somerset Maugham (33 Works in One Edition). Уильям Сомерсет Моэм

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      “If health and a good digestion are all that is necessary in a husband, Bertha certainly ought to be the most contented woman alive.”

      Miss Ley never believed so implicitly in her own theories that she was prevented from laughing at them. She had an impartial mind and saw the two sides of a question clearly enough to find little to choose between them; consequently she was able and willing to argue with equal force from either point of view.

      The set was finished, and Bertha threw herself on a chair, panting.

      “Find the balls, there’s a dear,” she cried.

      Edward went off on the search, and Bertha looked at him with a delightful smile.

      “He is such a good-tempered person,” she said to Miss Ley. “Sometimes he makes me feel positively ashamed.”

      “He has all the virtues. Dr. Ramsay, the Glovers, even Mrs. Branderton, have been dinning his praise into my ears.”

      “Yes, they all like him. Arthur Branderton is always here, asking his advice about something or other. He’s a dear, good thing.”

      “Who? Arthur Branderton?”

      “No, of course not—Eddie.”

      Bertha took off her hat and stretched herself more comfortably on the long chair. Her hair was somewhat disarranged, and the rich locks wandered about her forehead and on the nape of her neck in a way that would have distracted any minor poet under seventy. Miss Ley looked at her niece’s fine profile, and wondered again at the complexion, made up of the softest colours in the setting sun. Her eyes now were liquid with love, languorous with the shade of long lashes; and her full, sensual mouth was half open with a smile.

      “Is my hair very untidy?” asked Bertha, catching Miss Ley’s look and its meaning.

      “No, I think it suits you when it is not done too severely.”

      “Edward hates it; he likes me to be prim.... And of course I don’t care how I look so long as he’s pleased. Don’t you think he’s very good-looking?” Then without waiting for an answer, she asked a second question.

      “Do you think me a great fool for being so much in love, Aunt Polly?”

      “My dear, it’s surely the proper behaviour with one’s lawful spouse.”

      Bertha’s smile became a little sad as she replied—

      “Edward seems to think it unusual.” She followed him with her eyes, picking up the balls one by one, hunting among bushes: she was in the mood for confidences that afternoon. “You don’t know how different everything has been since I fell in love. The world is fuller.... It’s the only state worth living in.” Edward advanced with the eight balls on his racket. “Come here and be kissed, Eddie,” she cried.

      “Not if I know it,” he replied, laughing. “Bertha’s a perfect terror. She wants me to spend my whole life in kissing her.... Don’t you think it’s unreasonable, Aunt Polly? My motto is: everything in its place and season.”

      “One kiss in the morning,” said Bertha, “one kiss at night, will do to keep your wife quiet; and the rest of the time you can attend to your work and read your paper.”

      Again Bertha smiled charmingly, but Miss Ley saw no amusement in her eyes.

      “Well, one can have too much of a good thing,” said Edward, balancing his racket on the tip of his nose.

      “Even of proverbial philosophy,” remarked Bertha.

       A few days later, his guest having definitely announced that she must go, Edward proposed a tennis-party as a parting honour. Miss Ley would gladly have escaped an afternoon of small-talk with the notabilities of Leanham, but Edward was determined to pay his aunt every attention, and his inner consciousness assured him that at least a small party was necessary to the occasion. They came, Mr. and Miss Glover, the Brandertons, the Hancocks, Mr. Atthill Bacot, the great politician (of the district). But Mr. Atthill Bacot was more than political, he was gallant, and he devoted himself to the entertainment of Miss Ley. He discussed with her the sins of the government and the incapacity of the army.

      “More men, more guns!” he said. “An elementary education in common sense for the officers, and the rudiments of grammar if there’s time!”

      “Good heavens, Mr. Bacot, you mustn’t say such things. I thought you were a Conservative.”

      “Madam, I stood for the constituency in ’85. I may say that if a Conservative member could have got in, I should have been elected. But there are limits. Even the staunch Conservative will turn. Now look at General Hancock.”

      “Please don’t talk so loud,” said Miss Ley, with alarm, for Mr. Bacot had instinctively adopted his platform manner, and his voice could be heard through the whole garden.

      “Look at General Hancock, I say,” he repeated, taking no notice of the interruption. “Is that the sort of man whom you would wish to have the handling of ten thousand of your sons?”

      “Oh, but be fair,” cried Miss Ley, laughing. “They’re not all such fools as poor General Hancock.”

      “I give you my word, madam, I think they are.... As far as I can make out, when a man has shown himself incapable of doing anything else they make him a general, just to encourage the others. I understand the reason. It’s a great thing, of course, for parents sending their sons into the army to be able to say, ‘Well, he may be a fool, but there’s no reason why he shouldn’t become a general.’”

      “You wouldn’t rob us of our generals,” said Miss Ley; “they’re so useful at tea-parties. In my young days the fool of the family was sent into the Church, but now, I suppose, he’s sent into the army.”

      Mr. Bacot was about to make a very heated retort when Edward called to him—

      “We want you to make up a set at tennis. Will you play with Miss Hancock against my wife and the General? Come on, Bertha.”

      “Oh no, I mean to sit out, Eddie,” said Bertha, quickly. She saw that Edward was putting all the bad players into one set, so that they might be got rid of. “I’m not going to play.”

      “You must, or you’ll disarrange the next lot. It’s all settled; Miss Glover and I are going to take on Miss Jane Hancock and Arthur Branderton.”

      Bertha looked at him with eyes flashing angrily. Of course he did not notice her vexation. He preferred to play with Miss Glover, she told herself; the parson’s sister played well, and for a good game he would never hesitate to sacrifice his wife’s feelings. Besides Bertha, only Miss Glover and young Branderton were within earshot, and in his jovial, pleasant manner, Edward laughingly said—

      “Bertha’s such a duffer. Of course she’s only just beginning. You don’t mind playing with the General, do you, dear?”

      Arthur Branderton laughed and Bertha smiled at the sally, but she reddened.

      “I’m not going to play at all. I must see to the tea; and I dare say more people will be coming in presently.”

      “Oh, I forgot that,” СКАЧАТЬ