Northanger Abbey / Нортенгерское аббатство. Книга для чтения на английском языке

) лошадям вредно отдыхать]; nothing knocks them up so soon. No, no; I shall exercise mine at the average of four hours every day while I am here.”

“Shall you indeed!” said Catherine very seriously. “That will be forty miles a day.”

“Forty! Aye, fifty, for what I care. Well, I will drive you up Lansdown tomorrow; mind, I am engaged.”

“How delightful that will be!” cried Isabella, turning round. “My dearest Catherine, I quite envy you; but I am afraid, brother, you will not have room for a third.

“A third indeed! No, no; I did not come to Bath to drive my sisters about; that would be a good joke, faith! Morland must take care of you.”

This brought on a dialogue of civilities[63 - a dialogue of civilities – (уст.) обмен любезностями 58] between the other two; but Catherine heard neither the particulars nor the result. Her companion’s discourse now sunk from its hitherto animated pitch to nothing more than a short decisive sentence of praise or condemnation on the face of every woman they met; and Catherine, after listening and agreeing as long as she could, with all the civility and deference of the youthful female mind, fearful of hazarding an opinion of its own in opposition to that of a self-assured man, especially where the beauty of her own sex is concerned, ventured at length to vary the subject by a question which had been long uppermost in her thoughts; it was, “Have you ever read Udolpho, Mr.

“Udolpho! Oh, Lord! Not I; I never read novels; I have something else to do.

Catherine, humbled and ashamed, was going to apologize for her question, but he prevented her by saying, “Novels are all so full of nonsense and stuff; there has not been a tolerably decent one come out since Tom Jones[64 - Tom Jones – В«Р?стория РўРѕРјР° Джонса, найденыша», роман английского писателя, драматурга Генри Филдинга (1707–1754)], except The Monk[65 - The Monk – «Монах», готический роман Мэтью Льюиса (1775–1818)]; I read that t’other day; but as for all the others, they are the stupidest things in creation.

“I think you must like Udolpho, if you were to read it; it is so very interesting.”

“Not I, faith! No, if I read any, it shall be Mrs. Radcliff e’s; her novels are amusing enough; they are worth reading; some fun and nature in them.