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The Stars My Destination ( Tiger! Tiger! ) :: Bester Alfred
Страница: 39 из 164A lovely girl in white came running into the bedroom and sat down on theedge of the bed. She took Foyle's hands and gazed into his eyes. Her face was distressed.
«Darling, darling, darling,» she whispered. «You aren't going to start all that again, are you? The doctor swore you were over it.»
«Start what again?»
«All that Gulliver Foyle nonsense about your being a common sailor and…”
«I am Gully Foyle. That's my name, Gully Foyle.»
«Sweetheart, you're not. That's just a delusion you've had for weeks. You've been overworking and drinking too much.»
«Been Gully Foyle all my life, me.»
«Yes, I know darling. That's the way it's seemed to you. But you're not. You're Geoffrey Fourmyle. The Geoffrey Fourmyle. You're…Oh, what's the sense telling you? Get dressed, my love. You've got to come downstairs. Your office has been frantic.»
Foyle permitted the valet to dress him and went downstairs in a daze. The lovely girl, who evidently adored him, conducted him through a giant studio littered with drawing tables, easels, and half-finished canvases. She took him into a vast hall filled with desks, filing cabinets, stock tickers, clerks, secretaries, office personnel. They entered a lofty laboratory cluttered with glass and chrome. Burners flickered and hissed; bright colored liquids bubbled and churned; there was a pleasant odor of interesting chemicals and odd experiments.
«What's all this?» Foyle asked.
The girl seated Foyle in a plush armchair alongside a giant desk littered with interesting papers scribbled with fascinating symbols. On some Foyle saw the name: Geoffrey Fourmyle, scrawled in an imposing, authoritative signature.
«There's some crazy kind of mistake, is all,» Foyle began.
The girl silenced him. «Here's Doctor Regan. He'll explain.»
An impressive gentleman with a crisp, comforting manner, came to Foyle, touched his pulse, inspected his eyes, and nodded in satisfaction.
«Good,» he said. «Excellent. You are close to complete recovery, Mr. Fourmyle. Now you will listen to me for a moment, eh?»
Foyle nodded.
«You remember nothing of the past. You have only a false memory. You were overworked. You are an important man and there were too many demands on you. You started to drink heavily a month ago…No, no, denial is useless. You drank. You lost yourself.»
''I…”
«You became convinced you were not the famous Jeff Fourmyle. An infantile attempt to escape responsibility. You imagined you were a common spaceman named Foyle. Gulliver Foyle, yes? With an odd number. .
«Gully Foyle.
«Darling, darling, darling,» she whispered. «You aren't going to start all that again, are you? The doctor swore you were over it.»
«Start what again?»
«All that Gulliver Foyle nonsense about your being a common sailor and…”
«I am Gully Foyle. That's my name, Gully Foyle.»
«Sweetheart, you're not. That's just a delusion you've had for weeks. You've been overworking and drinking too much.»
«Been Gully Foyle all my life, me.»
«Yes, I know darling. That's the way it's seemed to you. But you're not. You're Geoffrey Fourmyle. The Geoffrey Fourmyle. You're…Oh, what's the sense telling you? Get dressed, my love. You've got to come downstairs. Your office has been frantic.»
Foyle permitted the valet to dress him and went downstairs in a daze. The lovely girl, who evidently adored him, conducted him through a giant studio littered with drawing tables, easels, and half-finished canvases. She took him into a vast hall filled with desks, filing cabinets, stock tickers, clerks, secretaries, office personnel. They entered a lofty laboratory cluttered with glass and chrome. Burners flickered and hissed; bright colored liquids bubbled and churned; there was a pleasant odor of interesting chemicals and odd experiments.
«What's all this?» Foyle asked.
The girl seated Foyle in a plush armchair alongside a giant desk littered with interesting papers scribbled with fascinating symbols. On some Foyle saw the name: Geoffrey Fourmyle, scrawled in an imposing, authoritative signature.
«There's some crazy kind of mistake, is all,» Foyle began.
The girl silenced him. «Here's Doctor Regan. He'll explain.»
An impressive gentleman with a crisp, comforting manner, came to Foyle, touched his pulse, inspected his eyes, and nodded in satisfaction.
«Good,» he said. «Excellent. You are close to complete recovery, Mr. Fourmyle. Now you will listen to me for a moment, eh?»
Foyle nodded.
«You remember nothing of the past. You have only a false memory. You were overworked. You are an important man and there were too many demands on you. You started to drink heavily a month ago…No, no, denial is useless. You drank. You lost yourself.»
''I…”
«You became convinced you were not the famous Jeff Fourmyle. An infantile attempt to escape responsibility. You imagined you were a common spaceman named Foyle. Gulliver Foyle, yes? With an odd number. .
«Gully Foyle.