Читать книгу Wuthering Heights / Грозовой перевал. Уровень 3 - Эмили Бронте, Эмили Бронте - Страница 2

1801. I have just returned from a visit to my landlord. This is certainly a beautiful country! And Mr. Heathcliff and I are such a suitable pair. A capital fellow! We met yesterday.

'Mr. Heathcliff? I'm Mr. Lockwood, your new tenant, sir. I hope that I don't bother you by my perseverance occupating Thrushcross Grange[1]: I heard yesterday you had had some thoughts – '

'Thrushcross Grange is my own, sir,' he interrupted, wincing. 'I won't allow anyone to bother me, but walk in!'

The 'walk in' was uttered with closed teeth, and in fact he seemed to say 'Go to Hell'. But eventually he opened the gate and invited me to enter. As we entered the court, he called,

'Joseph, take Mr. Lockwood's horse; and bring up some wine.'

Joseph was an old man. 'The Lord help us!' he said and helped me from my horse.

Wuthering Heights[2] is the name of Mr. Heathcliff's house. The word 'Wuthering' is connected with the stormy weather in this region. Above the door, I detected the date '1500,' and the name 'Hareton Earnshaw.'

We came into the family sitting-room, without any lobby or passage: they call it here 'the house'. Above the chimney there were some old guns, and a couple of horse-pistols[3]. 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?'