Дом с привидениями. Уровень 2 / A Haunted House

The little machine stands by the head of the bed. It stands on a neat mahogany stand. All arrangements are properly fixed by workmen under my direction. The widow applies her ear. She summons the spirit. Women! Widows! Women in black…”

Here he saw a woman’s dress in the distance. In the shade, it looked a purple black. He took off his hat. He placed his hand upon his heart. He hurried towards her. He was muttering and gesticulating feverishly. But William caught him by the sleeve. William touched a flower with the tip of his walking-stick.

The old man looked at it in some confusion. He bent his ear to it. Then he began to talk about the forests of Uruguay. He visited them hundreds of years ago in company with the most beautiful young woman in Europe. He was murmuring about forests of Uruguay, tropical roses, nightingales, sea beaches, mermaids, and women drowned at sea. William was moving him aside.

Then came two elderly women of the lower middle class. The first woman stout and ponderous.

The other woman was nimble. They scrutinized the old man’s back in silence. After that they went on their very complicated dialogue:

“Nell, Bert, Lot, Cess, Phil, Pa, he says, I say, she says, I say, I say…”

“My Bert, Sis, Bill, Grandad, the old man, sugar,

Sugar, flour, kippers, greens,

Sugar, sugar, sugar.”

The ponderous woman looked at the flowers, with a curious expression. So the heavy woman came to a standstill opposite the flower bed. She ceased even to pretend to listen to what the other woman was saying.

She stood there. She was swaying the top part of her body slowly backwards and forwards. She was looking at the flowers. Then she offered to have some tea.

The snail decided to creep beneath the leaf. There was a point where the leaf curved high enough from the ground.

Two other people came past outside on the turf. This time they were both young, a young man and a young woman.

“Lucky it isn’t Friday,” he observed.

“Why? Do you believe in luck?”

“They charge sixpence on Friday.

”

“What’s sixpence anyway? Isn’t it worth sixpence?”

“What’s �it’—what do you mean by �it’?”

“O, anything—I mean—you know what I mean.”

Long pauses came between each of these remarks. They were uttered in toneless and monotonous voices. The couple stood still on the edge of the flower bed. They pressed the end of her parasol deep down into the soft earth.