The Complete Works of George Bernard Shaw. GEORGE BERNARD SHAW
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Название: The Complete Works of George Bernard Shaw
Автор: GEORGE BERNARD SHAW
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 4064066388058
isbn:
He avoided her eyes, and stepped aside to make way for a lady who was passing. “Shall I get you an ice he said, after this welcome interruption. “It is very warm in here.”
“No. thank you. You know that I never eat ices.”
“I thought that this furnace of a room might have prevailed over your hygienic principles. Have you enjoyed yourself?”
I have not been especially happy or the reverse. I enjoyed the music.”
“Oh yes. Don’t you think Mlle. Sczympliça plays beautifully?”
“I saw that you thought so. She is able to bring an expression into your face that I have never seen there before.”
Herbert looked at her quickly: he became quite red. “Yes.” he said, “she certainly plays most poetically. By the bye, I think Mr. Jack behaved very badly in publicly making game of Mr. Maclagan. Everyone in the room was disgusted.”
Mary was ready to retort in defence of Jack; but before she could utter it Mrs Phipson came up, aggrieved and and speaking more loudly than was at all necessary. “Well, Mr Herbert,” she was saying, “you really have behaved most charmingly to us all the evening. I think we may go now, Mary. Josefs has gone; and Szczympliça is going, so there is really nothing to stay for. Why Adrian Herbert is gone again! How excessively odd!”
“He is gone to get Mdlle Sczympliça’s carriage,” said Mary, quietly. “Be careful,” she added, in a lower tone: “Mdlle Sczympliça is close behind us.”
“Indeed! And who is to get our carriage?” said Mrs Phipson, crossly, declining to abate her voice in the least. “Oh, really, Mary, you must speak to him about this. What is the use of your being his fiancée if he never does anything for you? He has behaved very badly. Mr Phipson is with that Frenchwoman who sang. He is only happy when he is running errands for celebrities. I suppose we must either take care of ourselves, or wait until Adrian condescends to come back for us.”
“We had better not wait. I see Charlie in the next room: he will look after us. Come.”
The Polish lady passed them, and followed her mother down the staircase. The cloak room was crowded; but Madame Sczympliça fought her way in, and presently returned with an armful of furs. She was assisted into some of these by her daughter, who was about to wrap herself in a cloak, when it was taken from her by Herbert.
“Allow me,” he said, placing the cloak on her shoulders. “I must not delay you: your servant has brought up your carriage; but—”
“Let us go quickly, my child,” said Madame. “They scream like devils for us. Au revoir, Monsieur Herbert. Come, Aurélie!”
“Adieu,” said Aurélie, hurrying away. He kept beside her until she stepped into the carriage. “Certainly not adieu,” he said eagerly. “May I not come to see you, as we arranged?”
“No,” she replied. “Your place is beside Miss Sutherland, your affianced. Adieu.” The carriage sped off; and he stood, gaping, until a footman reminded him that he was in the way of the next party. He then returned to the hall, where Mrs Phipson informed him coldly that she was sorry she could not offer him a seat in her carriage, as there was no room. So he bade them goodnight, and walked home.
CHAPTER XI
Every day, from ten in the forenoon to twelve, Mademoiselle Sczympliça practiced or neglected the pianoforte, according to her mood, whilst her mother discussed household matters with the landlady, and accompanied her to market. On the second morning after the conversazione, Madame went out as usual. No sooner had she disappeared in the direction of Tottenham Court Road than Adrian Herbert crossed from the opposite angle of the square, and knocked at the door of the house she had just left.
Whilst he waited on the doorstep, he could hear the exercise Aurélie was playing within. It was a simple affair, such as he had often heard little girls call “five-finger” exercises; and was slowly and steadily continued as if the player never meant to stop. The door was opened by a young woman, who, not expecting visitors at that hour, and being in a slatternly condition, hid her hand in her apron when she saw Adrian.
“Will you ask Miss Szczympliça whether she can see me, if you please.”
The servant hesitated, and then went into the parlor, closing the door behind her. Presently she came out, and said with some embarrassment, “Maddim Chimpleetsa is not at home, sir.”
“I know that,” said he. “Tell mademoiselle that I have a special reason for calling at this hour, and that I beg her to see me for a few moments.” He put his hand into his pocket for half-a-crown as he spoke; but the maid was gone before he had made up his mind to give it to her. Bribing a servant jarred his sense of honor.
“If it’s very particular, madamazel says will you please to walk in,” said she, returning.
Adrian followed her to the parlor, a lofty, spacious apartment with old fashioned wainscoting and a fireplace framed in white marble, carved with vases and garlands. The piano stood in the middle of the room; and the carpet was rolled up in a corner, so as not to deaden the resonance of the boards. Aurélie was standing by the piano, looking at him with a curious pucker of her shrewd face.
“I hope you are not angry with me,” said Herbert, with such evident delight in merely seeing her that she lowered her eyelids. “I know I have interrupted your practicing; and I have even watched to see madame go out before coming to you. But I could not endure another day like yesterday.”
Aureélie hesitated; then seated herself and motioned him to a chair, which he drew close to her. “What was the the matter yesterday?” she said, coquetting in spite of herself.
“It was a day of uncertainty as to the meaning of the change in your manner towards me at Harley Street on Monday, after I had left you for a few minutes.”
Aurélie made a little grimace, but did not look at him. “Why should I change?” she said.
“That is what I ask you. You did change — somebody had been telling you tales about me; and you believed them.” Aurélie’s eyes lightened hopefully. “Will you not charge me openly with whatever has displeased you; and so give me an opportunity to explain.”
“You must have strange customs in England,” she said, her eyes flashing again, this time with anger. “What right have I to charge you with anything? What interest have I in your affairs?”
“Aurélie,” he exclaimed, astonished: “do you not know that I love you like a madman?”
“You never told me so,” she said. “Do Englishwomen take such things for granted?” She blushed as she said so, and immediately bent her face into her hands; laughed a little and cried a little in a breath. This lasted only an instant; for, hearing Herbert’s chair drawn rapidly to the side of hers, she sat erect, and checked him by a movement of her wrist.
“Monsieur Herbert: according to our ideas in my country a declaration of love is always accompanied by an offer of marriage. Do you then offer me your love, СКАЧАТЬ