"Avram Davidson - The Odd Old_Bird" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davidson Avram)

it was fondly called…‘Roldry Mud,’ the prince sometimes called himself)? should it
go rather to the right or rather to the left? should it perhaps not go exactly ‘through’
them at all, but use their surplusage of waters for feeder systems? and—or—on the
one hand This, on the other hand That—
‘What’s that new picture over on the wall, Engly?’ Guest asked suddenly.
Host began to explain. ‘Ah,’ said Guest, ‘one of those funny French knick-knacks,
eh? Always got some funny knick-knacks ... The British for sport, the French for
fun…’ Still the guestly eyes considered the picture over on the wall. ‘That’s a
damned funny picture…it’s all funny little speckles ...’
‘Why, Roldry, you are right. What good eyes you have.’
Promptly: ‘Don’t soil them by a lot of reading, is why. Lots of chaps want to
know about a book, “Is it spicy?” Some want to know, “Is it got lots of facts?”
What I want to know is only, “Has it got big print?” Shan’t risk spoiling my eyes
and having to wear a monocle. One has to be a hunter, first, you know.’ He made no
further reference to the fact his host himself sometimes wore a monocle.
Eszterhazy returned to the matter of canals: ‘Here is a sketch of a proposed
catchment basin—Yes, Lemkotch?’
‘Lord Grumpkin!’ said the Day Porter.
There followed a rather short man of full figure, with a ruddy, shiny, cheerful
face. There followed also a brief clarification, by Lemkotch’s employer, of the
proper way to refer to Professor Johanno Blumpkinn, the Imperial Geologist; there
followed, also, an expression on the Porter’s face, indicative of his being at all times
Doctor (of Medicine, Law, Music, Philosophy, Science, and Letters) Eszterhazy’s
loyal and obedient servant and all them words were not for a ignorant fellow like him
(the day porter) to make heads or tails of; after which he bowed his usual brief, stiff
bob and withdrew. He left behind him a slight savour of rough rum, rough tobacco,
rough manhood, and rough soap ... even if not quite enough rough soap to erase the
savour of the others. The room also smelled of the unbleached beeswax with which
they had been rubbing—polishing, if you like—the furniture’s mahogany; of Prince
Vlox, which some compared to that of a musty wolf (not perhaps to his face,
though); of Eszterhazy himself (Pears soap and just a little bay rum) and of
Professor Blumpkinn (Jenkinson’s Gentleman’s Cologne: more than just a little).
Plus some Havana cigars supplied by the old firm of Freibourg and Treyer in the
Haymarket—London was a long way from Bella, capital of the Triple Monarchy of
Scythia-Pannonia-Transbalkania (fourth largest empire in Europe) but so was
Havana, for that matter. ‘Gentlemen, you have met, I believe,’ Eszterhazy said,
anyway adding, ‘Prince Vlox, Professor Blumpkinn.’
Further adding, ‘I am sorry that my servant did not get your name right, Han.’
Blumpkinn waved his hand. ‘Calling me by the old-fashioned word for the
smallest coin in his native province really helps me to remember a proper value of
my own worth.—Ah. Canal plans. I hope that when the excavations are in progress
you will be sure to keep me in mind if any interesting fossils turn up.’ It was not sure
that Prince Vlox would be able to identify an interesting fossil if one hit him in the
hough or bit him on the buttock, but Eszterhazy gave a serious nod. He knew how
such things were to be done. Offer a small gift for reporting the discovery of ‘any of
them funny elf-stone things as the old witch-women used to use’—they used to use
them for anything from dropped stomach to teaching a damned good lesson to
husbands with wandering eyes: but now all that had gone out of fashion—should
certainly result in the reporting of enough interest-ing fossils, uninteresting fossils,
and, indeed, non-fossils, to provide coping-stones for the entire length of the