"Bon-Bon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Poe Edgar Allan)

stew; and last, not least, he had been thwarted in one of those
admirable bargains which he at all times took such especial delight in
bringing to a successful termination. But in the chafing of his mind
at these unaccountable vicissitudes, there did not fail to be
mingled some degree of that nervous anxiety which the fury of a
boisterous night is so well calculated to produce. Whistling to his
more immediate vicinity the large black water-dog we have spoken of
before, and settling himself uneasily in his chair, he could not
help casting a wary and unquiet eye toward those distant recesses of
the apartment whose inexorable shadows not even the red firelight
itself could more than partially succeed in overcoming. Having
completed a scrutiny whose exact purpose was perhaps unintelligible to
himself, he drew close to his seat a small table covered with books
and papers, and soon became absorbed in the task of retouching a
voluminous manuscript, intended for publication on the morrow.
He had been thus occupied for some minutes when "I am in no hurry,
Monsieur Bon-Bon," suddenly whispered a whining voice in the
apartment.
"The devil!" ejaculated our hero, starting to his feet,
overturning the table at his side, and staring around him in
astonishment.
"Very true," calmly replied the voice.
"Very true!- what is very true?- how came you here?" vociferated
the metaphysician, as his eye fell upon something which lay stretched
at full length upon the bed.
"I was saying," said the intruder, without attending to the
interrogatives,- "I was saying that I am not at all pushed for time-
that the business upon which I took the liberty of calling, is of
no pressing importance- in short, that I can very well wait until you
have finished your Exposition."
"My Exposition!- there now!- how do you know?- how came you to
understand that I was writing an Exposition?- good God!"
"Hush!" replied the figure, in a shrill undertone; and, arising
quickly from the bed, he made a single step toward our hero, while
an iron lamp that depended over-head swung convulsively back from
his approach.
The philosopher's amazement did not prevent a narrow scrutiny of the
stranger's dress and appearance. The outlines of his figure,
exceedingly lean, but much above the common height, were rendered
minutely distinct, by means of a faded suit of black cloth which
fitted tight to the skin, but was otherwise cut very much in the style
of a century ago. These garments had evidently been intended for a
much shorter person than their present owner. His ankles and wrists
were left naked for several inches. In his shoes, however, a pair of
very brilliant buckles gave the lie to the extreme poverty implied
by the other portions of his dress. His head was bare, and entirely
bald, with the exception of a hinder part, from which depended a queue
of considerable length. A pair of green spectacles, with side glasses,
protected his eyes from the influence of the light, and at the same
time prevented our hero from ascertaining either their color or