JК
Sharpes Eagle :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 199 из 203You’d likehim.”
Sharpe had laughed. “I doubt it.” He wanted to tell her how much he would not like Claud Hardy, with his stupid sounding name and his rich uniform and his thoroughbred horses. The Dragoon had watched them as she looked up at Sharpe.
“I can’t stay with the army, Richard.”So you’re going back to Lisbon?“
She nodded. “We’re not going to Madrid, are we?” He shook his head. “Well, it has to be Lisbon.” She smiled at him. “He has a house in Belem, a big one. I’m sorry.”Don’t be.“
“I can’t follow an army, Richard.” She was pleading for understanding.
“I know. But armies follow you, yes?” It was a clumsy attempt at gallantry, and it had pleased her, but now it was time to part and he wanted her to stay. He did not know what to say. “Josefina? I’m sorry.”
She touched his arm arid there was the gleam of tears in her eyes. She blinked them away and forced herself to sound happy. “One day, Richard, you will fall in love with the right girl? You promise?”
He had not watched her walk to the Dragoon but instead turned away to rejoin the company in the stench of the dead on the battlefield.
“Captains shouldn’t marry.” Crauford thumped the table and Sharpe jumped. “Isn’t that true?”
Sharpe did not reply. He suspected Crauford was right, and he determined, again, to thrust away the memory of Josefina. She was on her way to Lisbon, to the big house, to live with a man who was to join the Lisbon garrison and live a life of dancing and diplomacy. Damn all of it. He drank his wine, reached for the bottle, and forced himself to listen to the conversation which was now as gloomy as his thoughts. They were talking of the fifteen hundred wounded men in the convent who would have to be abandoned to the care of the Spanish. Hill was peering worriedly at Wellesley. “Will Cuesta look after them?”
“I wish I could say ”yes“.” Wellesley sipped his wine. “The Spanish have failed us in every promise. It was not easy to leave our wounded to their care but we have no choice, gentlemen, no choice.”
Hill shook his head. “The retreat will not be received well in England.”
“Damn England!” Wellesley spoke with asperity, his eyes suddenly alive with anger. “I know what England will say; that once again we have been driven from Spain, and so we have, gentlemen, so we have!” He leaned back in his chair and Sharpe could see the tiredness on his face.
Sharpe had laughed. “I doubt it.” He wanted to tell her how much he would not like Claud Hardy, with his stupid sounding name and his rich uniform and his thoroughbred horses. The Dragoon had watched them as she looked up at Sharpe.
“I can’t stay with the army, Richard.”So you’re going back to Lisbon?“
She nodded. “We’re not going to Madrid, are we?” He shook his head. “Well, it has to be Lisbon.” She smiled at him. “He has a house in Belem, a big one. I’m sorry.”Don’t be.“
“I can’t follow an army, Richard.” She was pleading for understanding.
“I know. But armies follow you, yes?” It was a clumsy attempt at gallantry, and it had pleased her, but now it was time to part and he wanted her to stay. He did not know what to say. “Josefina? I’m sorry.”
She touched his arm arid there was the gleam of tears in her eyes. She blinked them away and forced herself to sound happy. “One day, Richard, you will fall in love with the right girl? You promise?”
He had not watched her walk to the Dragoon but instead turned away to rejoin the company in the stench of the dead on the battlefield.
“Captains shouldn’t marry.” Crauford thumped the table and Sharpe jumped. “Isn’t that true?”
Sharpe did not reply. He suspected Crauford was right, and he determined, again, to thrust away the memory of Josefina. She was on her way to Lisbon, to the big house, to live with a man who was to join the Lisbon garrison and live a life of dancing and diplomacy. Damn all of it. He drank his wine, reached for the bottle, and forced himself to listen to the conversation which was now as gloomy as his thoughts. They were talking of the fifteen hundred wounded men in the convent who would have to be abandoned to the care of the Spanish. Hill was peering worriedly at Wellesley. “Will Cuesta look after them?”
“I wish I could say ”yes“.” Wellesley sipped his wine. “The Spanish have failed us in every promise. It was not easy to leave our wounded to their care but we have no choice, gentlemen, no choice.”
Hill shook his head. “The retreat will not be received well in England.”
“Damn England!” Wellesley spoke with asperity, his eyes suddenly alive with anger. “I know what England will say; that once again we have been driven from Spain, and so we have, gentlemen, so we have!” He leaned back in his chair and Sharpe could see the tiredness on his face.