Читать книгу Дживс, вы – гений! / Thank you, Jeeves! - Пелам Гренвилл Вудхаус, Pelham Grenville Wodehouse - Страница 5

Chuffy was the genial host.

“Hallo-allo-allo! Here you all are. How are you, Mr Stoker? How are you, Sir Roderick? Hallo, Dwight. Er—good morning, Miss Stoker. May I introduce my friend, Bertie Wooster? Mr Stoker, my friend, Bertie Wooster. Dwight, my friend, Bertie Wooster. Miss Stoker, my friend, Bertie Wooster. Sir Roderick Glossop, my friend, Bertie—Oh, but you know each other already, don’t you?”

I surveyed the mob. Old Stoker was glaring at me. Old Glossop was glaring at me. Young Dwight was staring at me. Only Pauline appeared to find no awkwardness in the situation. She was as cool as an oyster on the plate. She bounded forward, full of speech, and grabbed my hand warmly.

“Well, well, well! Old Colonel Wooster in person! To find you here, Bertie! I called you up in London, but they told me you had left.”

“Yes. I came down here.”

“I see you did. Well, sir, this has certainly made my day. You’re looking fine, Bertie. Don’t you think he’s looking lovely, father?”

Old Stoker made a noise like a pig swallowing half a cabbage. Sir Roderick had turned purple.

At this moment, however, the Lady Chuffnell came out. Before I knew where I was, the whole gang had gone indoors, and I was alone with Chuffy. He was staring at me.

“I didn’t know you knew these people, Bertie.”

“I met them in New York.”

“You saw Miss Stoker there?”

“A little.”

“Only a little?”

“Quite a little.”

“I thought her manner seemed rather warm.”

“Oh, no. About normal.”

“I thought you were great friends.”

“Oh, no. She talks like that with everyone.”

“She does?”

“Oh, yes. Big-hearted, you see.”

“She has got a delightful, impulsive, generous, spontaneous, genuine nature, hasn’t she?”

“Absolutely.”

“Beautiful girl, Bertie.”

“Oh, very.”

“And charming.”

“Oh, most.”

“In fact, attractive.”

“Oh, quite.”

“I saw her in London.”

“Yes?”

“We went to the Zoo and Madame Tussaud’s[48] together.”

“Tell me,” I said, “how do the prospects look?”

“Sometimes good. Sometimes not.”

“I see.”

“Uncertain.”

“I understand.”

“This Stoker makes me nervous. He’s friendly enough as a general rule, but at any moment he may fly off. You can’t tell me if there are any special subjects to avoid when talking to him, can you?”

“Special subjects?”

“Well, you know how it is with a stranger. You say it’s a fine day, and he goes all white and tense, because you’ve reminded him that it was on a fine day that his wife eloped with the chauffeur.”

I considered.

“Well, if I were you,” I said, “I wouldn’t harp too much on the topic of B. Wooster. He doesn’t like me.”

“Why not?”

“Just one of these unreasonable antipathies. And I was thinking, old man, it might be better if I didn’t join the throng at the luncheon table. You can tell your aunt I’ve got a headache.”

“Well, I’m glad you told me. You had better go away.”

“I will.”

“And I suppose I ought to join the others.”

He went indoors, and I went down the gravel. I was glad to be alone.

I am a man who can read faces. Chuffy’s expression, as he spoke of Pauline, showed that he was in love with her. Well, if it was so, it was all right with me. As far as I was concerned, Pauline Stoker could marry anyone she liked. I could still see that she was one of the most beautiful girls I had ever met, but of the ancient fire which had caused me to bung my heart at her feet[49] there remained not a trace.

Analysing this, if analysing is the word I want, I came to the conclusion that this was due to the fact that she was so dynamic. Pauline Stoker was one of those girls who want you to come and swim a mile before breakfast.

But Chuffy is very dynamic himself. He rides, swims, shoots, chivvies foxes with loud cries. He and this P. Stoker would make the perfect pair.

So when I saw Pauline coming out of the house and going to me, I greeted her. The last thing I really wanted was to be close with this girl. The first shock of meeting her was over, but I did not like the prospect of a heart-to-heart talk.

“How perfectly extraordinary finding you here, Bertie,” she began. “What are you doing in these parts[50]?”

“I am temporarily in retirement,” I replied. “I needed a place where I could play the banjolele in solitude, and I took this cottage.”

“What cottage?”

“I’ve got a cottage down by the harbour.”

“You must have been surprised to see us.”

“I was.”

“More surprised than pleased, eh?”

“Well, of course, I’m always delighted to meet you, but when it comes to your father and old Glossop…”

“He’s not one of your greatest admirers, is he? But you saw father’s face when he noticed you. He’s convinced that I’m still in love with you.”

“You don’t mean that?”

“I do, honestly.”

“But, dash it—”

“It’s true, I tell you. He looks on himself as the stern Victorian father who has parted the young lovers and must keep them from getting together again. He does not know that you never had a happier moment in your life than when you got my letter.”

“No, I say!”

“Bertie, be honest. You were delighted.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I always esteemed you most highly.”

“You did what? Where do you pick up these expressions?”

“Well, I suppose from Jeeves, mostly. He had a fine vocabulary.”

“Where is he now?”

“He’s left me. He didn’t like me playing the banjolele. He is now with Chuffy.”

“Chuffy?”

“Lord Chuffnell.”

“Oh?”

There was a pause. She sat listening for a moment to a couple of birds who were having an argument in a nearby tree.

“Have you known Lord Chuffnell long?” she asked.

“Oh, rather.”

“You’re great friends?”

“Yes, we are.”

“Good. I hoped you were. I wanted to talk to you about him. I can confide in you, can’t I, Bertie?”

“Of course.”

“I knew I could. Tell me about Marmaduke[51].”

“I don’t think I know him.”

“Lord Chuffnell, idiot.”

“Is his name Marmaduke? Really? Well, well! What? Marmaduke!” I said, laughing heartily. “I remember he was always evasive and secretive about it at school.”

She seemed annoyed.

“It’s a beautiful name!”

I looked at her. This, I felt, must mean something. Nobody would say Marmaduke was a beautiful name wantonly and without good reason.

“Hallo!” I said. “Hallo, hallo, hallo! Hallo! You love this… ha, ha! Excuse me… this Marmaduke?”

“I’m crazy about him.”

“Good! Well, if what you say is really so, be prepared. He is deeply enamoured of you.”

She wiggled her shoulder impatiently.

“I know that, you chump. Do you think a girl can’t tell?”

I was frankly surprised.

“Well, if he loves you and you love him, I can’t understand what you want more.”

“Why, can’t you understand? He’s obviously in love about me, but he is silent.”

“He does not speak?”

“Not a syllable.”

“Well, why would—Naturally he wouldn’t say anything yet. Give the man a chance. He’s only known you five days.”

“I sometimes feel that he was a king in Babylon when I was a Christian slave.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you know best, of course. Very doubtful, I should have said myself. And, anyway, what do you want me to do about it?”

“Well, you’re a friend of his. You could give him a hint. You could tell him there’s no need for coldness—”

“It is not coldness. It is delicacy. We men have our code in these matters. We are gentle knights. We—”

“What utter nonsense! You asked me to marry you after you had known me two weeks.”

“Ah, but there you were dealing with one of the Wild Woosters.”

“Well, I can’t see—”

“Yes?” I said. “Proceed.”

But she was looking past me at something to the south-east; and, turning, I perceived that we were no longer alone. There, standing in an attitude of respectful courtliness, was Jeeves.