"Perry, Anne - The One Thing More" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Anne)and what I said." He looked at her steadily. He had a powerful face
with lean, hard bones a face of hunger and tragedy. But one expected dark eyes and his were blue-grey, very clear, as if his mind were visible through them, both the light and the darkness of it. These were the days of equality. She wanted to understand why he sent St. Felix, who was apparently his friend, out on all sorts of errands in the cold and the dark. Often he came home exhausted, sometimes even injured, and it seemed he went willingly enough. Certainly he never argued. But why did Bernave not sometimes go on these dangerous missions himself? Bernard was staring at her. He smiled with a twist to his lips. "Are you cold and tired, Celie?" "Of course I am!" she said vehemently. Her legs ached and her feet were soaking wet and numb. He leaned back a little in his chair, his eyes meeting hers unwaveringly. "Is Amandine in bed?" It was the last thing she had expected him to ask. It was utterly irrelevant. His eyes widened. "Is Amandine in bed?" he repeated. "Is that not plain enough? I am hungry. Like most of France, I can work on an empty stomach but I cannot think on one! Perhaps also, like most of France!" A flash of humour lit his face as he watched her, but it was full of the knowledge of pain. "I'll fetch you some bread and cheese," she offered. And an onion, if you like?" "The only woman in Paris who cannot cook!" he said with a sigh, but there was no unkindness in his voice. "You have done well, Celie. You have intelligence and courage. And at the moment since there is hardly any decent food to be had, but a great deal of work to do, and most of it dangerous those virtues may be of more use to us. What a comment on our times!" He looked at her steadily for a moment, to be sure she understood that he meant what he said, then turned back to his book. It was dismissal. She went out through the hallway to the kitchen again, taking the candle with her, his praise still sweet in her ears. A corner of the room had been set aside for the flat iron and a basket of sewing needles, scissors, threads, and pins so she could care for the household linens and occasionally make a garment or two. But the |
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