"Wilkie Collins - I Say No" - читать интересную книгу автора (Collins Wilkie)

strokes of the clock--took Francine's part.
"Never mind their laughing, Miss de Sor. You are quite right, you have good
reason to complain of us."
Miss de Sor dried her eyes. "Thank you--whoever you are," she answered briskly.
"My name is Cecilia Wyvil," the other proceeded. "It was not, perhaps, quite
nice of you to say you hated us all. At the same time we have forgotten our good
breeding--and the least we can do is to beg your pardon."
This expression of generous sentiment appeared to have an irritating effect on
the peremptory young person who took the lead in the room. Perhaps she
disapproved of free trade in generous sentiment.
"I can tell you one thing, Cecilia," she said; "you shan't beat ME in
generosity. Strike a light, one of you, and lay the blame on me if Miss Ladd
finds us out. I mean to shake hands with the new girl--and how can I do it in
the dark? Miss de Sor, my name's Brown, and I'm queen of the bedroom. I--not
Cecilia--offer our apologies if we have offended you. Cecilia is my dearest
friend, but I don't allow her to take the lead in the room. Oh, what a lovely
nightgown!"
The sudden flow of candle-light had revealed Francine, sitting up in her bed,
and displaying such treasures of real lace over her bosom that the queen lost
all sense of royal dignity in irrepressible admiration. "Seven and sixpence,"
Emily remarked, looking at her own night-gown and despising it. One after
another, the girls yielded to the attraction of the wonderful lace. Slim and
plump, fair and dark, they circled round the new pupil in their flowing white
robes, and arrived by common consent at one and the same conclusion: "How rich
her father must be!"
Favored by fortune in the matter of money, was this enviable person possessed of
beauty as well?
In the disposition of the beds, Miss de Sor was placed between Cecilia on the
right hand, and Emily on the left. If, by some fantastic turn of events, a
man--say in the interests of propriety, a married doctor, with Miss Ladd to look
after him--had been permitted to enter the room, and had been asked what he
thought of the girls when he came out, he would not even have mentioned
Francine. Blind to the beauties of the expensive night-gown, he would have
noticed her long upper lip, her obstinate chin, her sallow complexion, her eyes
placed too close together--and would have turned his attention to her nearest
neighbors. On one side his languid interest would have been instantly roused by
Cecilia's glowing auburn hair, her exquisitely pure skin, and her tender blue
eyes. On the other, he would have discovered a bright little creature, who would
have fascinated and perplexed him at one and the same time. If he had been
questioned about her by a stranger, he would have been at a loss to say
positively whether she was dark or light: he would have remembered how her eyes
had held him, but he would not have known of what color they were. And yet, she
would have remained a vivid picture in his memory when other impressions,
derived at the same time, had vanished. "There was one little witch among them,
who was worth all the rest put together; and I can't tell you why. They called
her Emily. If I wasn't a married man--" There he would have thought of his wife,
and would have sighed and said no more.
While the girls were still admiring Francine, the clock struck the half-hour
past eleven.
Cecilia stole on tiptoe to the door--looked out, and listened--closed the door