"Hemingway, Ernest - The Sun Also Rises" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hemingway Ernest)

"You ought to write a book on wines, count," I said.
"Mr. Barnes," answered the count, "all I want out of wines is to enjoy them."
"Let's enjoy a little more of this," Brett pushed her glass forward. The count poured very carefully. "There, my dear. Now you enjoy that slowly, and then you can get drunk."
"Drunk? Drunk?"
"My dear, you are charming when you are drunk."
"Listen to the man."
"Mr. Barnes," the count poured my glass full. "She is the only lady I have ever known who was as charming when she was drunk as when she was sober."
"You haven't been around much, have you?"
"Yes, my dear. I have been around very much. I have been around a very great deal."
"Drink your wine," said Brett. "We've all been around. I dare say Jake here has seen as much as you have."
My dear, I am sure Mr. Barnes has seen a lot. Don t think I don't think so, sir. I have seen a lot, too."
"Of course you have, my dear," Brett said. "I was only ragging."
"I have been in seven wars and four revolutions," the count said.
"Soldiering?" Brett asked.
"Sometimes, my dear. And I have got arrow wounds. Have you ever seen arrow wounds?"
"Let's have a look at them."
The count stood up, unbuttoned his vest, and opened his shirt. He pulled up the undershirt onto his chest and stood, his chest black, and big stomach muscles bulging under the light.
"You see them?"
Below the line where his ribs stopped were two raised white welts. "See on the back where they come out." Above the small of the back were the same two scars, raised as thick as a finger.
"I say. Those are something."
"Clean through."
The count was tucking in his shirt.
"Where did you get those?" I asked.
"In Abyssinia. When I was twenty-one years old."
"What were you doing?" asked Brett. "Were you in the army?"
"I was on a business trip, my dear."
"I told you he was one of us. Didn't I?" Brett turned to me. "I love you, count. You're a darling."
"You make me very happy, my dear. But it isn't true."
"Don't be an ass."
"You see, Mr. Barnes, it is because I have lived very much that now I can enjoy everything so well. Don't you find it like that?"
"Yes. Absolutely."
"I know," said the count. "That is the secret. You must get to know the values."
"Doesn't anything ever happen to your values?" Brett asked.
"No. Not any more."
"Never fall in love?"
"Always," said the count. "I am always in love."
"What does that do to your values?"
"That, too, has got a place in my values."
"You haven't any values. You're dead, that's all."
"No, my dear. You're not right. I'm not dead at all."
We drank three bottles of the champagne and the count left the basket in my kitchen. We dined at a restaurant in the Bois. It was a good dinner. Food had an excellent place in the count's values. So did wine. The count was in fine form during the meal. So was Brett. It was a good party.
"Where would you like to go?" asked the count after dinner. We were the only people left in the restaurant. The two waiters were standing over against the door. They wanted to go home.
"We might go up on the hill," Brett said. "Haven't we had a splendid party?"
The count was beaming. He was very happy.
"You are very nice people," he said. He was smoking a cigar again. "Why don't you get married, you two?"
"We want to lead our own lives," I said.
"We have our careers," Brett said. "Come on. Let's get out of this."
"Have another brandy," the count said.
"Get it on the hill."
"No. Have it here where it is quiet."