-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Шарлотта Бронте
-
- Джэйн Эйр
-
- Стр. 260/445
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
I
had
prepared
an
occupation
for
him
;
for
I
was
determined
not
to
spend
the
whole
time
in
a
tête-à-tête
conversation
.
I
remembered
his
fine
voice
;
I
knew
he
liked
to
sing
--
good
singers
generally
do
.
I
was
no
vocalist
myself
,
and
,
in
his
fastidious
judgment
,
no
musician
,
either
;
but
I
delighted
in
listening
when
the
performance
was
good
.
No
sooner
had
twilight
,
that
hour
of
romance
,
began
to
lower
her
blue
and
starry
banner
over
the
lattice
,
than
I
rose
,
opened
the
piano
,
and
entreated
him
,
for
the
love
of
heaven
,
to
give
me
a
song
.
He
said
I
was
a
capricious
witch
,
and
that
he
would
rather
sing
another
time
;
but
I
averred
that
no
time
was
like
the
present
.
"
Did
I
like
his
voice
?
"
he
asked
.
"
Very
much
.
"
I
was
not
fond
of
pampering
that
susceptible
vanity
of
his
;
but
for
once
,
and
from
motives
of
expediency
,
I
would
e
'
en
soothe
and
stimulate
it
.
"
Then
,
Jane
,
you
must
play
the
accompaniment
.
"
"
Very
well
,
sir
,
I
will
try
.
"
I
did
try
,
but
was
presently
swept
off
the
stool
and
denominated
"
a
little
bungler
.
"
Being
pushed
unceremoniously
to
one
side
--
which
was
precisely
what
I
wished
--
he
usurped
my
place
,
and
proceeded
to
accompany
himself
:
for
he
could
play
as
well
as
sing
.
I
hied
me
to
the
window-recess
.
And
while
I
sat
there
and
looked
out
on
the
still
trees
and
dim
lawn
,
to
a
sweet
air
was
sung
in
mellow
tones
the
following
strain
:
-
"
The
truest
love
that
ever
heart
Felt
at
its
kindled
core
,
Did
through
each
vein
,
in
quickened
start
,
The
tide
of
being
pour
.
