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Sharpes Battle :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 201 из 244"I had hopes, Sharpe! I had hopes!"
"The Golden Fleece, General? Order of the Bath?"
"Not just those, Sharpe, but of marriage. There are, you understand, ladies of fortune in Hampshire. I've no ambition to bи a bachelor all my life, Sharpe. My dear mother, God rest her, always claimed I'd make a good husband so long as the lady was possessed of a middling fortune. Not a great fortune, one must not be unrealistic, but a sufficiency to keep our good selves in modest comfort. A pair of coaches, decent stables, cooks that know their business, smallish game park, a dairy, you know the sort of place."
"Makes me homesick, General," Sharpe said.
The sarcasm sailed airily over Runciman's head. "But now, Sharpe, can you imagine any woman of decent family allying herself with a vilified name?" He thought about it for a moment, then gave a slow despairing shake of the head. "Good God! I might have to marry a Methodist!"
"It hasn't happened yet, General," Sharpe said, "and a lot could change today."
Runciman looked alarmed. "You mean I could be killed?"
"Or you could make a name for bravery, sir," Sharpe said. "Nosey always forgives a man for good conduct."
"Oh, good Lord, no! Dear me, no. Pon my soul, Sharpe, no. I ain't the type. Never was. I went into soldiering because my dear father couldn't find a place for me anywhere else! He purchased me into the army, you understand, because he said it was as good a billet as I could ever expect from society, but I'm not the fighting sort. Never was, Sharpe." Runciman listened to the terrible noise of the cannonade pounding Fuentes de Onoro, a noise made worse by the splintering sound of voltigeur muskets firing over the stream. "I'm not proud of it, Sharpe, but I don't think I could endure that kind of thing. Don't think I could at all."
"Can't blame you, sir," Sharpe said, then turned as Sergeant Harper shouted for his attention. "You'll forgive me, General?"
"Off you go, Sharpe, off you go."
"Trade, sir," Harper said, jerking his head towards Major Tarrant who was gesticulating at a wagon driver.
Tarrant turned as Sharpe came near. "The Light Division is ordered south, Sharpe, but its ammunition reserve is stuck to the north. We're to replace it. Would you mind if your rifles accompanied it?"
Sharpe did mind. He instinctively wanted to stay where the battle would be fiercest and that was in Fuentes de Onoro, but he could not say as much to Tarrant. "No, sir."
"In case they get bogged down, d'you see, and have to spend the rest of the day fighting off Frenchmen, so the General wants them to have a plenitude of ammunition. Rifle and musket cartridges, mixed.
"The Golden Fleece, General? Order of the Bath?"
"Not just those, Sharpe, but of marriage. There are, you understand, ladies of fortune in Hampshire. I've no ambition to bи a bachelor all my life, Sharpe. My dear mother, God rest her, always claimed I'd make a good husband so long as the lady was possessed of a middling fortune. Not a great fortune, one must not be unrealistic, but a sufficiency to keep our good selves in modest comfort. A pair of coaches, decent stables, cooks that know their business, smallish game park, a dairy, you know the sort of place."
"Makes me homesick, General," Sharpe said.
The sarcasm sailed airily over Runciman's head. "But now, Sharpe, can you imagine any woman of decent family allying herself with a vilified name?" He thought about it for a moment, then gave a slow despairing shake of the head. "Good God! I might have to marry a Methodist!"
"It hasn't happened yet, General," Sharpe said, "and a lot could change today."
Runciman looked alarmed. "You mean I could be killed?"
"Or you could make a name for bravery, sir," Sharpe said. "Nosey always forgives a man for good conduct."
"Oh, good Lord, no! Dear me, no. Pon my soul, Sharpe, no. I ain't the type. Never was. I went into soldiering because my dear father couldn't find a place for me anywhere else! He purchased me into the army, you understand, because he said it was as good a billet as I could ever expect from society, but I'm not the fighting sort. Never was, Sharpe." Runciman listened to the terrible noise of the cannonade pounding Fuentes de Onoro, a noise made worse by the splintering sound of voltigeur muskets firing over the stream. "I'm not proud of it, Sharpe, but I don't think I could endure that kind of thing. Don't think I could at all."
"Can't blame you, sir," Sharpe said, then turned as Sergeant Harper shouted for his attention. "You'll forgive me, General?"
"Off you go, Sharpe, off you go."
"Trade, sir," Harper said, jerking his head towards Major Tarrant who was gesticulating at a wagon driver.
Tarrant turned as Sharpe came near. "The Light Division is ordered south, Sharpe, but its ammunition reserve is stuck to the north. We're to replace it. Would you mind if your rifles accompanied it?"
Sharpe did mind. He instinctively wanted to stay where the battle would be fiercest and that was in Fuentes de Onoro, but he could not say as much to Tarrant. "No, sir."
"In case they get bogged down, d'you see, and have to spend the rest of the day fighting off Frenchmen, so the General wants them to have a plenitude of ammunition. Rifle and musket cartridges, mixed.