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Sharpes Escape :: Корнуэлл Бернард
Страница: 47 из 283"
"Then he may learn it from you, senhor ," Sarah retorted, looking Ferragusin the eye, "but I shall teach him not to use it in front of ladies. If he learns that alone then I shall have been useful."
Ferragus gave a grunt that might have been amusement. He was challenged by her gaze, which showed no fear of him. He was accustomed to his brother's other servants shrinking when he passed; they dropped their eyes and tried to become invisible, but this English girl was brazen. But also beautiful, and he marveled at the line of her neck which was shadowed by unruly fair hair. Such white skin, he thought, so delicate. "You teach them French. Why?" he asked.
"Because the Major's wife expects it," Sarah said, "because it is the language of diplomacy. Because possession of French is a requisite of gentility."
Ferragus made a growling noise in his throat that was evidently a verdict on gentility, then shrugged. "The language will at least be useful if the French come here," he said.
"If the French come here," Sarah said, "then we should be long gone. Is that not what the government has ordered?"
Ferragus flinched as he moved his right hand. "But perhaps they won't come now. Not if they lose the battle."
"The battle?"
"Your Lord Wellington is at Bussaco. He hopes the French will attack him."
"I pray they do," Sarah said confidently, "because then he will beat them."
"Perhaps," Ferragus said, "or perhaps your Lord Wellington will do what Sir John Moore did at La Corufia. Fight, win and run away."
Sarah sniffed to show her opinion of that statement.
" Os ingleses ," Ferragus said savagely, " por mar ."
The English, he had said, are for the sea. It was a general belief in Portugal. The British were opportunists, looking for victory, but running from any possible defeat. They had come, they had fought, but they would not stay to the end. Os ingleses por mar.
Sarah half feared Ferragus was right, but would not admit it. "You say your brother sent you to protect us?" she asked instead.
"He did. He can't be here. He has to stay with the army."
"Then I shall rely on you, senhor , to make certain I am long gone to safety if, as you say, the English take to the sea. I cannot stay here if the French come."
"You cannot stay here?"
"Indeed not. I am English."
"I shall protect you, Miss Fry," Ferragus said.
"I am glad to hear it," she said briskly and turned back to the kettle.
Bitch, Ferragus thought, stuck-up English bitch. "Forget my tea," he said and stalked from the kitchen.
"Then he may learn it from you, senhor ," Sarah retorted, looking Ferragusin the eye, "but I shall teach him not to use it in front of ladies. If he learns that alone then I shall have been useful."
Ferragus gave a grunt that might have been amusement. He was challenged by her gaze, which showed no fear of him. He was accustomed to his brother's other servants shrinking when he passed; they dropped their eyes and tried to become invisible, but this English girl was brazen. But also beautiful, and he marveled at the line of her neck which was shadowed by unruly fair hair. Such white skin, he thought, so delicate. "You teach them French. Why?" he asked.
"Because the Major's wife expects it," Sarah said, "because it is the language of diplomacy. Because possession of French is a requisite of gentility."
Ferragus made a growling noise in his throat that was evidently a verdict on gentility, then shrugged. "The language will at least be useful if the French come here," he said.
"If the French come here," Sarah said, "then we should be long gone. Is that not what the government has ordered?"
Ferragus flinched as he moved his right hand. "But perhaps they won't come now. Not if they lose the battle."
"The battle?"
"Your Lord Wellington is at Bussaco. He hopes the French will attack him."
"I pray they do," Sarah said confidently, "because then he will beat them."
"Perhaps," Ferragus said, "or perhaps your Lord Wellington will do what Sir John Moore did at La Corufia. Fight, win and run away."
Sarah sniffed to show her opinion of that statement.
" Os ingleses ," Ferragus said savagely, " por mar ."
The English, he had said, are for the sea. It was a general belief in Portugal. The British were opportunists, looking for victory, but running from any possible defeat. They had come, they had fought, but they would not stay to the end. Os ingleses por mar.
Sarah half feared Ferragus was right, but would not admit it. "You say your brother sent you to protect us?" she asked instead.
"He did. He can't be here. He has to stay with the army."
"Then I shall rely on you, senhor , to make certain I am long gone to safety if, as you say, the English take to the sea. I cannot stay here if the French come."
"You cannot stay here?"
"Indeed not. I am English."
"I shall protect you, Miss Fry," Ferragus said.
"I am glad to hear it," she said briskly and turned back to the kettle.
Bitch, Ferragus thought, stuck-up English bitch. "Forget my tea," he said and stalked from the kitchen.