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- Фрэнк Норрис
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- Спрут: Калифорнийская история
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- Стр. 381/416
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Mrs
.
Gerard
,
who
was
very
proud
of
her
dinners
,
and
never
able
to
resist
the
temptation
of
commenting
upon
them
to
her
guests
,
leaned
across
to
Presley
and
Mrs
.
Cedarquist
,
murmuring
,
“
Mr
.
Presley
,
do
you
find
that
Sauterne
too
cold
?
I
always
believe
it
is
so
bourgeois
to
keep
such
a
delicate
wine
as
Sauterne
on
the
ice
,
and
to
ice
Bordeaux
or
Burgundy
—
oh
,
it
is
nothing
short
of
a
crime
.
”
“
This
is
from
your
own
vineyard
,
is
it
not
?
”
asked
Julian
Lambert
.
“
I
think
I
recognise
the
bouquet
.
”
He
strove
to
maintain
an
attitude
of
fin
gourmet
,
unable
to
refrain
from
comment
upon
the
courses
as
they
succeeded
one
another
.
Little
Honora
Gerard
turned
to
Presley
:
“
You
know
,
”
she
explained
,
“
Papa
has
his
own
vineyards
in
southern
France
.
He
is
so
particular
about
his
wines
;
turns
up
his
nose
at
California
wines
.
And
I
am
to
go
there
next
summer
.
Ferrieres
is
the
name
of
the
place
where
our
vineyards
are
,
the
dearest
village
!
”
She
was
a
beautiful
little
girl
of
a
dainty
porcelain
type
,
her
colouring
low
in
tone
.
She
wore
no
jewels
,
but
her
little
,
undeveloped
neck
and
shoulders
,
of
an
exquisite
immaturity
,
rose
from
the
tulle
bodice
of
her
first
decollete
gown
.
“
Yes
,
”
she
continued
;
“
I
’
m
to
go
to
Europe
for
the
first
time
.
Won
’
t
it
be
gay
?
And
I
am
to
have
my
own
bonne
,
and
Mamma
and
I
are
to
travel
—
so
many
places
,
Baden
,
Homburg
,
Spa
,
the
Tyrol
.
Won
’
t
it
be
gay
?
”
Presley
assented
in
meaningless
words
.
He
sipped
his
wine
mechanically
,
looking
about
that
marvellous
room
,
with
its
subdued
saffron
lights
,
its
glitter
of
glass
and
silver
,
its
beautiful
women
in
their
elaborate
toilets
,
its
deft
,
correct
servants
;
its
array
of
tableware
—
cut
glass
,
chased
silver
,
and
Dresden
crockery
.
It
was
Wealth
,
in
all
its
outward
and
visible
forms
,
the
signs
of
an
opulence
so
great
that
it
need
never
be
husbanded
.
It
was
the
home
of
a
railway
“
Magnate
,
”
a
Railroad
King
.
For
this
,
then
,
the
farmers
paid
.
It
was
for
this
that
S
.
Behrman
turned
the
screw
,
tightened
the
vise
.
It
was
for
this
that
Dyke
had
been
driven
to
outlawry
and
a
jail
.
It
was
for
this
that
Lyman
Derrick
had
been
bought
,
the
Governor
ruined
and
broken
,
Annixter
shot
down
,
Hooven
killed
.
The
soup
,
puree
a
la
Derby
,
was
served
,
and
at
the
same
time
,
as
hors
d
’
oeuvres
,
ortolan
patties
,
together
with
a
tiny
sandwich
made
of
browned
toast
and
thin
slices
of
ham
,
sprinkled
over
with
Parmesan
cheese
.
The
wine
,
so
Mrs
.
Gerard
caused
it
to
be
understood
,
was
Xeres
,
of
the
1815
vintage
.
Mrs
.
Hooven
crossed
the
avenue
.
It
was
growing
late
.
Without
knowing
it
,
she
had
come
to
a
part
of
the
city
that
experienced
beggars
shunned
.
There
was
nobody
about
.
Block
after
block
of
residences
stretched
away
on
either
hand
,
lighted
,
full
of
people
.
But
the
sidewalks
were
deserted
.
