Оглавление
George Fraser MacDonald. Flashman’s Lady
Copyright
How Did I Get the Idea of Flashman?
Dedication
EXPLANATORY NOTE
If you enjoyed Flashman’s Lady, check out these other great George MacDonald Fraser titles
APPENDIX I: Cricket in the 1840s
APPENDIX II: The White Raja
APPENDIX III: Queen Ranavalona
Footnotes. Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 9
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Appendix II
Appendix III
NOTES
About the Author
The FLASHMAN Papers (In chronological order)
The FLASHMAN Papers (In order of publication)
Also by George MacDonald Fraser
About the Publisher
Отрывок из книги
The following piece was found in the author’s study in 2013 by the Estate of George MacDonald Fraser.
‘How did you get the idea of Flashman?’ and ‘When are we going to get his U.S. Civil War memoirs?’ are questions which I have ducked more often than I can count. To the second, my invariable response is ‘Oh, one of these days’. Followed, when the inquirer is an impatient American, by the gentle reminder that to an old British soldier like Flashman the unpleasantness between the States is not quite the most important event of the nineteenth century, but rather a sideshow compared to the Mutiny or Crimea. Before they can get indignant I add hastily that his Civil War itinerary is already mapped out; this is the only way of preventing them from telling me what it ought to be.
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He was a huge man at the best of times, six feet odd and close on twenty stone, with a face like fried ham garnished with a double helping of black whisker, but now he looked like Goliath, and if you think a man can’t tower above you from twenty-five yards off, you ain’t seen young Alfie. He was smiling, idly tossing up the ball which looked no bigger than a cherry in his massive fist, working one foot on the turf – pawing it, bigod. Old Aislabie gave me guard, quavered ‘Play!’ I gripped my bat, and Mynn took six quick steps and swung his arm.
I saw the ball in his hand, at shoulder height, and then something fizzed beside my right knee, I prepared to lift my bat – and the wicket-keeper was tossing the ball to Felix at point. I swallowed in horror, for I swear I never saw the d----d thing go, and someone in the crowd cries, ‘Well let alone, sir!’ There was a little puff of dust settling about four feet in front of me; that’s where he pitches, thinks I, oh J---s, don’t let him hit me! Felix, crouching facing me, barely ten feet away, edged just a little closer, his eyes fixed on my feet; Mynn had the ball again, and again came the six little steps, and I was lunging forward, eyes tight shut, to get my bat down where the dust had jumped last time. I grounded it, my bat leaped as something hit it a hammer blow, numbing my wrists, and I opened my eyes to see the ball scuttling off to leg behind the wicket. Brooke yells ‘Come on!’, and the lord knows I wanted to, but my legs didn’t answer, and Brooke had to turn back, shaking his head.
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