-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Уильям Тэккерей
-
- Ярмарка тщеславия
-
- Стр. 402/431
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
Not
at
this
season
,
Monsieur
Fiche
--
not
till
after
Easter
.
"
"
I
tell
Madame
it
is
unwholesome
now
.
There
is
always
malaria
for
some
people
.
That
cursed
marsh
wind
kills
many
at
all
seasons
.
Look
,
Madame
Crawley
,
you
were
always
bon
enfant
,
and
I
have
an
interest
in
you
,
parole
d'honneur
.
Be
warned
.
Go
away
from
Rome
,
I
tell
you
--
or
you
will
be
ill
and
die
.
"
Becky
laughed
,
though
in
rage
and
fury
.
"
What
!
assassinate
poor
little
me
?
"
she
said
.
"
How
romantic
!
Does
my
lord
carry
bravos
for
couriers
,
and
stilettos
in
the
fourgons
?
Bah
!
I
will
stay
,
if
but
to
plague
him
.
I
have
those
who
will
defend
me
whilst
I
am
here
.
"
It
was
Monsieur
Fiche
's
turn
to
laugh
now
.
"
Defend
you
,
"
he
said
,
"
and
who
?
The
Major
,
the
Captain
,
any
one
of
those
gambling
men
whom
Madame
sees
would
take
her
life
for
a
hundred
louis
.
We
know
things
about
Major
Loder
(
he
is
no
more
a
Major
than
I
am
my
Lord
the
Marquis
)
which
would
send
him
to
the
galleys
or
worse
.
We
know
everything
and
have
friends
everywhere
.
We
know
whom
you
saw
at
Paris
,
and
what
relations
you
found
there
.
Yes
,
Madame
may
stare
,
but
we
do
.
How
was
it
that
no
minister
on
the
Continent
would
receive
Madame
?
She
has
offended
somebody
:
who
never
forgives
--
whose
rage
redoubled
when
he
saw
you
.
He
was
like
a
madman
last
night
when
he
came
home
.
Madame
de
Belladonna
made
him
a
scene
about
you
and
fired
off
in
one
of
her
furies
.
"
"
Oh
,
it
was
Madame
de
Belladonna
,
was
it
?
"
Becky
said
,
relieved
a
little
,
for
the
information
she
had
just
got
had
scared
her
.
"
No
--
she
does
not
matter
--
she
is
always
jealous
.
I
tell
you
it
was
Monseigneur
.
You
did
wrong
to
show
yourself
to
him
.
And
if
you
stay
here
you
will
repent
it
.
Mark
my
words
.
Go
.
Here
is
my
lord
's
carriage
"
--
and
seizing
Becky
's
arm
,
he
rushed
down
an
alley
of
the
garden
as
Lord
Steyne
's
barouche
,
blazing
with
heraldic
devices
,
came
whirling
along
the
avenue
,
borne
by
the
almost
priceless
horses
,
and
bearing
Madame
de
Belladonna
lolling
on
the
cushions
,
dark
,
sulky
,
and
blooming
,
a
King
Charles
in
her
lap
,
a
white
parasol
swaying
over
her
head
,
and
old
Steyne
stretched
at
her
side
with
a
livid
face
and
ghastly
eyes
.
Hate
,
or
anger
,
or
desire
caused
them
to
brighten
now
and
then
still
,
but
ordinarily
,
they
gave
no
light
,
and
seemed
tired
of
looking
out
on
a
world
of
which
almost
all
the
pleasure
and
all
the
best
beauty
had
palled
upon
the
worn-out
wicked
old
man
.
"
Monseigneur
has
never
recovered
the
shock
of
that
night
,
never
,
"
Monsieur
Fiche
whispered
to
Mrs.
Crawley
as
the
carriage
flashed
by
,
and
she
peeped
out
at
it
from
behind
the
shrubs
that
hid
her
.
"
That
was
a
consolation
at
any
rate
,
"
Becky
thought
.
Whether
my
lord
really
had
murderous
intentions
towards
Mrs.
Becky
as
Monsieur
Fiche
said
(
since
Monseigneur
's
death
he
has
returned
to
his
native
country
,
where
he
lives
much
respected
,
and
has
purchased
from
his
Prince
the
title
of
Baron
Ficci
)
,
and
the
factotum
objected
to
have
to
do
with
assassination
;
or
whether
he
simply
had
a
commission
to
frighten
Mrs.
Crawley
out
of
a
city
where
his
Lordship
proposed
to
pass
the
winter
,
and
the
sight
of
her
would
be
eminently
disagreeable
to
the
great
nobleman
,
is
a
point
which
has
never
been
ascertained
:
but
the
threat
had
its
effect
upon
the
little
woman
,
and
she
sought
no
more
to
intrude
herself
upon
the
presence
of
her
old
patron
.
