JК
Sharpes Sword :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 52 из 213It’s a French word, but Isuppose we’ll all be using it soon. For you peasants who don’t speak French it means a simple, light repast taken in the open air. We’ve got chicken, ham, spiced sausages, some delicious cake, and best of all some wine. We, of course, are myself and La Marquesa de Casares el Grande y Melida Sadaba. You’re both specifically invited.”
Hogan smiled. It seemed that Sharpe accepting the responsibility for Leroux had lifted a weight from his shoulders. “La Marquesa! It’s time I rubbed shoulders with the aristocracy!”
“What about me?” Spears looked aggrieved. “Am I not noble enough for you? Good Lord! When my ancestors ate the forbidden fruit in Eden they insisted on having it served on a silver platter. You’re coming?” This last he addressed to Sharpe.
Sharpe shrugged. Hogan was insisting on going, so Sharpe was forced to follow, and though part of him yearned to see La Marquesa again, another, greater part of him was scared of the encounter. He hated being tempted by things he could not have, and he could feel his mood becoming surly as he climbed the hill behind Hogan and Spears.
La Marquesa watched them come. She raised a languid hand in greeting. “Captain Sharpe! You’ve at last accepted one of my invitations!”
“I’m with Major Hogan, Ma’am.” The instant he said it, he regretted it. He had been trying to say that he had not come willingly, that he was not her slave, but his words made it sound as though he had need to be forced into her company. She smiled.
“I owe Major Hogan my thanks.” She turned her lavish beauty onto the Irishman. “We’ve met, Major.”
“Indeed we have, Ma’am. At Ciudad Rodrigo, I remember.”
“So do I, you were most charming.”
“The Irish usually are, Ma’am.”
“Such a pity the English haven’t learned from their neighbours.” She looked at Sharpe who sat, miserable, on his uncomfortable horse. She smiled again at Hogan. “You’re well?”
“Indeed, Ma’am, and thank you, Ma’am. Yourself? Your husband?”
“My husband, ah!” She fanned her face. “Poor Luis is in South America, suppressing one of our Colonial rebellions. It seems so silly. You’re here to liberate our country while Luis is busy doing the opposite somewhere else.” She laughed, then looked again at Sharpe. “My husband, Captain Sharpe, is a soldier, like you.”
“Indeed, Ma’am?”
“Well not quite like you. He’s much older, much fatter, and he dresses much better. He’s also a General, so perhaps he’s not quite like you.
Hogan smiled. It seemed that Sharpe accepting the responsibility for Leroux had lifted a weight from his shoulders. “La Marquesa! It’s time I rubbed shoulders with the aristocracy!”
“What about me?” Spears looked aggrieved. “Am I not noble enough for you? Good Lord! When my ancestors ate the forbidden fruit in Eden they insisted on having it served on a silver platter. You’re coming?” This last he addressed to Sharpe.
Sharpe shrugged. Hogan was insisting on going, so Sharpe was forced to follow, and though part of him yearned to see La Marquesa again, another, greater part of him was scared of the encounter. He hated being tempted by things he could not have, and he could feel his mood becoming surly as he climbed the hill behind Hogan and Spears.
La Marquesa watched them come. She raised a languid hand in greeting. “Captain Sharpe! You’ve at last accepted one of my invitations!”
“I’m with Major Hogan, Ma’am.” The instant he said it, he regretted it. He had been trying to say that he had not come willingly, that he was not her slave, but his words made it sound as though he had need to be forced into her company. She smiled.
“I owe Major Hogan my thanks.” She turned her lavish beauty onto the Irishman. “We’ve met, Major.”
“Indeed we have, Ma’am. At Ciudad Rodrigo, I remember.”
“So do I, you were most charming.”
“The Irish usually are, Ma’am.”
“Such a pity the English haven’t learned from their neighbours.” She looked at Sharpe who sat, miserable, on his uncomfortable horse. She smiled again at Hogan. “You’re well?”
“Indeed, Ma’am, and thank you, Ma’am. Yourself? Your husband?”
“My husband, ah!” She fanned her face. “Poor Luis is in South America, suppressing one of our Colonial rebellions. It seems so silly. You’re here to liberate our country while Luis is busy doing the opposite somewhere else.” She laughed, then looked again at Sharpe. “My husband, Captain Sharpe, is a soldier, like you.”
“Indeed, Ma’am?”
“Well not quite like you. He’s much older, much fatter, and he dresses much better. He’s also a General, so perhaps he’s not quite like you.