"John Morressy - When Bertie Met Mary" - читать интересную книгу автора (Morressy John)

"I appreciate your interest in my origins," I said, launching into the speech of introduction that I had
carefully prepared. "I have come a long way, from far beyond the mountains and across strange seas --"
"Do you know my cousin Stas from Pittsburgh?" an old man broke in.
"Not to speak of," I replied.
"Then do not speak of him!" the old man said, and spat on my shoes.
"Come on, men. On to the castle," Zoltan said, but it was more a half-hearted suggestion than a
command. He was rapidly losing enthusiasm and so were his followers. The mob looked at one another,
then at him. Some shook their heads. Others snickered. The rest scratched themselves.
"What is your name, stranger?" someone asked me. "Are you from America?" cried another, and a third
asked, "Do you know the great Larry Talbot?"
"He does not even know my cousin Stas from Pittsburgh," said the old man, though no one had asked
him.
"Enough empty chatter!" Zoltan shouted. "There will be time to talk of home and family when our work is
done. On to the castle!"
They moved off, grumbling. The way to Castle Frankenstein was steep and difficult, and the fog was as
dense as the peasants. All about me I heard the picturesque obscenities of the region as the men banged
into trees, tripped over headstones, or plunged into the small one-man bogs common in that corner of
Europe.
I heard a loud splash and a burst of vulgar language close at my side. A man rose from a puddle of muck
and cried, "I thought you knew the way to the castle, Zoltan! That's why we made you leader."
"I took the short cut. I thought everybody would like to get there, smash up the laboratory, get the fire
going, and be home in time for the soccer match. It starts at eight."
"What time is it now?" the man inquired.
Zoltan consulted his watch and said, "Nine-forty-two." They all shrugged, displaying that charming
insouciance so common among peasants the world over.
When the castle loomed into view around a turn in the path, all progress stopped so abruptly that those in
the rear fell over the leaders. They scrambled to their feet in some embarrassment and all began to mill
about uncertainly. To rally them, I struck up a spirited whistling rendition of "Colonel Bogey's March" and
stepped forward smartly, arms swinging. I had gone a quarter of a mile before I realized that I was
marching alone.
Looking back, I saw that the mob had disbanded. Small bonfires were being lit. The reedy twang of a
harmonica wrung the cool mountain air. A breeze carried the sound of soft humming to where I stood.
"What is going on here?" I shouted through cupped hands.
"It is our break," came the faint answer.
"How long will it last?"
"Who knows? We are simple people, easily distracted. You must not let us hold you back. Feel free to
go on ahead and do brave things."
I shouted a venomous farewell and proceeded up the mountain alone. The way was steep but free of all
impediments, and I soon found myself before the great oaken doors of Castle Frankenstein.
The doors swung open at my touch. No one was in sight within. Following the soft sound of a distant
zither, I made my way up a winding flight of stone steps, knocked gently at the door of the room from
which the sound was coming, and entered. A gaunt, stern-faced man looked up from his zither, regarded
me with interest, adjusted his glasses, removed and polished them, replaced them on his nose, observed
me further with the dispassionate eye of the scientist, and after a full minute of silent study said in a
disdainful voice, "Are you a simpleton?"
"Certainly not," I said with a show of dignity. "Are you?"
"I am Doctor Frankenstein!" he cried, rising and laying aside his zither. "What are you doing here if you
are not a simpleton?"
"I could learn," I said, hoping to mollify him.
"There is no time." He calmed a bit, but was obviously impatient. "These people at the classified desk are