Travels with my aunt / Путешествие с тетушкой. Книга для чтения на английском языке

”

“At the moment I would prefer something stronger and more tranquillizing. It is not every day one sees a sister consigned to the flames. Like La Pucelle[7 - La Pucelle – (фр.) Девственница].”

“I don’t quite…”

“Joan of Arc[8 - Joan of Arc – Жанна д’Арк (1413–1431), Орлеанская дева, в юности слышавшая «голоса», которые велели ей возглавить борьбу с англичанами; вела французское войско, разбившее Англию под Орлеаном; сожжена на костре как ведьма].

“I have some sherry at home, but it’s rather a long ride and perhaps…”

“My apartment is at any rate north of the river,” Aunt Augusta said firmly, “and I have everything we require.” Without asking my assent she hailed a taxi. It was the first and perhaps, when I think back on it now, the most memorable of the journeys we were to take together.

Chapter 2

I was quite right in my weather forecast. The grey clouds began to rain and I found myself preoccupied with my private worries. All along the shiny streets people were putting up umbrellas and taking shelter in the doorways of Burton’s, the United Dairies, Mac Fisheries or the ABC. For some reason rain in the suburbs reminds me of a Sunday.

“What’s on your mind?” Aunt Augusta said.

“It was so stupid of me. I left my lawn-mower out, on the lawn, uncovered.

My aunt showed me no sympathy. She said, “Forget your lawn-mower. It’s odd how we seem to meet only at religious ceremonies. The last time I saw you was at your baptism. I was not asked but I came.” She gave a croak of a laugh. “Like the wicked fairy.”

“Why didn’t they ask you?”

“I knew too much. About both of them. I remember you were far too quiet. You didn’t yell the devil out. I wonder if he is still there?” She called to the driver, “Don’t confuse the Place with the Square, the Crescent or the Gardens.

“I didn’t know there was any breach. Your photograph was there in the family album.”

“For appearances only.[9 - For appearances only. – (разг.) Это только для вида.]” She gave a little sigh which drove out a puff of scented powder. “Your mother was a very saintly woman. She should by rights have had a white funeral. La Pucelle,” she added again.