Wuthering Heights / Грозовой перевал. Уровень 3

Above the chimney there were some old guns, and a couple of horse-pistols[3 - horse-pistols – седельные пистолеты]. The floor was of smooth, white stone; the chairs were high-backed, primitive structures.

Mr. Heathcliff is a dark-skinned gipsy in appearance, in dress and manners a gentleman. He has an erect and handsome figure; and is rather morose. Possibly, some people suspect under-bred pride; but I think it is nothing of the sort. I know, by instinct, he is so reserved because of an aversion to show his feeling.

When he left me to go to the cellar with Joseph and bring some wine, however, I was attacked by several large dogs, they ran into the kitchen. Happily, a woman came in to save me. She had bare arms and red cheeks, and she rushed into the midst of us with a frying-pan, and used that weapon, and her tongue, to such purpose, that the storm subsided magically.

'What the devil is the matter?' asked Heathcliff.

I did not like this inhospitable treatment.

'What the devil, indeed!' I muttered.

'Those animals of yours, sir. You will leave a stranger with tigers soon!'

'They won't touch the persons who touch nothing,' he remarked, putting the bottle before me. 'The dogs must be vigilant. A glass of wine?'

'No, thank you.'

'Come, come,' he said, 'you are uneasy, Mr. Lockwood. Here, take a little wine. Guests are so rare in this house that I and my dogs hardly know how to receive them. Your health, sir?'

Chapter II

Yesterday I went to see Heathcliff again, but nobody answered when I knocked for admittance.

Only the dogs howled inside. It was snowing hard. Suddenly, when a young man without coat, but with a pitchfork, appeared in the yard behind. He hailed me to follow him, and at length[4 - at length – наконец] we arrived in the huge, warm, cheerful apartment. I was formerly received there. The fire was burning; and near the table, laid for an evening meal, I observed a lady whose existence I had never previously suspected.

I bowed and waited. Will she ask me to take a seat? She looked at me, leant back in her chair, and remained motionless and silent.

'Rough weather!' I remarked.

She did not open her mouth. I stared – she stared also. She looked at me in a cool, regardless manner, exceedingly embarrassing and disagreeable.

'Sit down,' said the young man, gruffly. 'He'll be in soon.'

She was not very amiable with me – in fact, quite the opposite.