"Charles L. Harness-George Washington Slept Here" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harness Charles L)

"It was boring. And I picked up a little radioactivity. But it had a fast half-life and soon faded. I haven't
been in the Rock since I emerged in 1725. There's no need, anymore. I'm quite harmless, now, Oliver.
You have a higher radiation level than I do."
"Weren't they suspicious when you never aged?"
"Oh, I learned how to handle that. I aged with make-up and gray wigs. When I got very old I went
away, 'died,' and returned as my 'niece,' to inherit the house and the Rock." She pointed to a framed
portrait on the wall. "See over there? I was a 'grande dame' when Stuart painted me in seventeen
eighty-two. That big white wig was quite the rage. Cost me four guineas. I slept on a headboard for
several nights to preserve my coiffure."
Potts peered at the painting. "Really well done."
"You like it? George thought so, too. He developed into a fair connoisseur."
"He had excellent taste," agreed Potts.
 "Some of today's things he would have liked; some not. He was a great dancer. He'd ride miles to a
ball. Would you like to dance, Oliver?"
"I'm not so good at the modern steps..."
"I'm not either. A colonial favorite, perhaps?"
"Fine."
"'The Rolling Hornpipes.' I take the spinet, he accompanies on the fife. What he lacked in talent, he
made up in spirit."
"Huh?"
"George and I played together, back in seventeen ninety-five. I made a life-size holo at the time. I
never played it back for him. I didn't think he'd understand." She walked across the room and pressed a
switch.
And there they were. The general, standing tall, lips puckered, blowing into the little silver cylinder.
Sena's fingers were dancing nimbly over the spinet keyboard. She was looking up gleefully at her musical
guest.
Potts jumped up as though stuck with a red-hot needle. "Jesus X. God," he whispered. The tall
white-haired man was, save for a towel draped around his middle, totally naked.
The lawyer emerged slowly from his paralysis. He found himself thinking of Hawthorne's famous
comment: "Did anybody ever see Washington nude? It is inconceivable. He had no nakedness, but I
imagine he was born with his clothes on, and his hair powdered, and made a stately bow on his first
appearance in the world."
That's very strong sillabub, thought Potts.
"Come," said Sena. "Let's dance." She took his hand.
"But-- "
"I'll explain later."
And, so she led him into the sprightly gyrations of a vanished time to music provided by the Father of
His Country.
It came to an end. The holo shut off automatically. The vision of lost centuries vanished.
Potts wiped a sleeve over a damp forehead. "Well?"
"He was out this way for the first time in seventeen fifty, surveying for Lord Fairfax. He was only
eighteen, though he looked older. Oh, how handsome he was, with his thick red hair, his fine shoulders,
his slim waist. We were lovers, Oliver. There are still some letters spread around in the archives where he
mentions me. I was his 'Low Land Beauty.' He capitalized everything. I was not the only woman in his
life, but I think I was the first. Sally, Martha, Eliza, all were later."
"He returned?"
"Yes, just that one time, in July seventeen ninety-five. The country was in a horrible mess, the worst
since the Revolution. The Jay Treaty was supposed to bring peace with Britain. If we didn't sign, Britain
would declare war. If we did sign, we'd face civil war at home. John Jay was hanged in effigy. Alexander
Hamilton tried to defend the Treaty and was stoned. The house of the British minister was insulted by a