The Battle of Life / Битва жизни. Книга для чтения на английском языке

The notion of wishing happy returns in such a farce as this,’ said the Doctor to himself, �is good! Ha! ha! ha!’

Doctor Jeddler was, as I have said, a great philosopher, and the heart and mystery of his philosophy was, to look upon the world as a gigantic practical joke; as something too absurd to be considered seriously, by any rational man. His system of belief had been, in the beginning, part and parcel[3 - part and parcel – (разг.) неотъемлемая часть] of the battle-ground on which he lived, as you shall presently understand.

�Well! But how did you get the music?’ asked the Doctor. �Poultry stealers, of course! Where did the minstrels come from?’

�Alfred sent the music,’ said his daughter Grace, adjusting a few simple flowers in her sister’s hair, with which, in her admiration of that youthful beauty, she had herself adorned it half an hour before, and which the dancing had disarranged.

�Oh! Alfred sent the music, did he?’ returned the Doctor.

�Yes. He met it coming out of the town as he was entering early. The men are travelling on foot, and rested there last night; and as it was Marion’s birthday, and he thought it would please her, he sent them on, with a pencilled note[4 - with a pencilled note – (разг.) с запиской] to me, saying that if I thought so too, they had come to serenade her.’

�Ay, ay,’ said the Doctor, carelessly, �he always takes your opinion.

�And my opinion being favourable,’ said Grace, good-humouredly; and pausing for a moment to admire the pretty head she decorated, with her own thrown back; �and Marion being in high spirits, and beginning to dance, I joined her. And so we danced to Alfred’s music till we were out of breath. And we thought the music all the gayer for being sent by Alfred. Didn’t we, dear Marion?’

�Oh, I don’t know, Grace. How you tease me about Alfred.

�Tease you by mentioning your lover?’ said her sister.

�I am sure I don’t much care to have him mentioned,’ said the wilful beauty, stripping the petals from some flowers she held, and scattering them on the ground. �I am almost tired of hearing of him; and as to his being my lover —’

�Hush! Don’t speak lightly of a true heart, which is all your own, Marion,’ cried her sister, �even in jest.