"Alexander Abramov, Sergei Abramov. Journey Across Three Worlds (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

WHO IS JEKYLL AND WHO HYDE?


Even in this world, Galya must have possessed her usual control. A
minute later she was quite calm and collected.
"I hope we won't start in on science fiction in front of the cabby?"
she asked, on the way to the taxi.
"So you consider it scientific?" I couldn't resist saying.
"Goodness knows!"
I could not read anything special on her face. Her behaviour was
ordinary, that of a clever woman - Galya's way with people who were
strangers and yet whom she found interesting. Attentive eyes, respectful
attention to a companion, unconsciously coquettish, mocking.
"Why do you have Pushkin's monument in the middle of the square?" I
asked, as we drove past.
"Where do you have it?"
"On the boulevard."
"You're lying about everything. Just as you lied about our going to the
Registry. And why did you say six years ago?"
"Fate," I laughed.
"Where was I six years ago?" she wondered, thoughtfully. "In the spring
I was in Odessa."
"So was I."
"Why do you lie? You never even came with us."
"In your world I didn't, but in ours - on the contrary."
"That's funny," she said, pronouncing every syllable. And added with a
critical look at me: "But you don't give the impression of being a lunatic."
"Nice to hear it," I wanted to say, but I didn't. A dark squall hit me
right in the face. Everything went black.
"What's wrong?" I heard Galya's frightened cry, and then her hurried,
excited words: "Driver, driver, pull up somewhere by the pavement. He feels
bad...."
I opened my eyes. The mist of bewitchment was still swirling round
inside the car. And through this fog a woman's face was staring at me.
"Who is it?" I asked hoarsely.
"Do you feel bad, Sergei?"
"Galya?" I said, surprised. "How did you get here?"
She did not answer.
"Did something happen to me there ... on the boulevard?" I asked,
looking around me.
"Yes, it did," said Galya. "We'll talk about it later. Can you go home,
or do you need a doctor?"
I stretched, shook my head, and sat up straight. Clearly I could do
without a doctor. While we rode, I told Galya about walking along Tverskoi
Boulevard, about my dizzy spell, and how I tried to talk to myself in the
midst of a lilac fog.
"And afterwards," Galya asked, with sudden interest - before that she
had been listening now with distrust, now with indifference. "What happened
afterwards?"
I shrugged in bewilderment.