"Diana Wynne Jones - Howl's Moving Castle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jones Diana Wynne)

draped over the back of the chair, out of the way of the slime. The blue-and-silver suit was ruined.
Sophie told Michael to put it in the bath to soak. Meanwhile, mumbling and grumbling, she fetched
more hot water. She turned the doorknob green-down and swept all the slime out onto the moors. The
castle left a trail like a snail in the heather, but it was an easy way to get rid of the slime. There were
some advantages to living in a moving castle, Sophie thought as she washed the floor. She wondered if
Howl's noises had been coming from the castle to. In which case, she pitied the folk of Market
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Chipping.
By this time Sophie was tired and cross. She knew the green slime was Howl's revenge on her, and she
was not at all prepared to be sympathetic when Michael finally led Howl forth from the bathroom,
clothed in gray and scarlet, and sat him tenderly in the chair by the hearth.
"That was plain stupid!" Calcifer sputtered. "Were you trying to get rid of the best part of your magic,
or something?"
Howl took no notice. He just sat, looking tragic and shivering.
"I can't get him to speak!" Michael whispered miserably.
"It's just a tantrum," Sophie said. Martha and Lettie were good at having tantrums. She knew how to
deal with those. On the other hand, it is quite a risk to spank a wizard for getting hysterical about his
hair. Anyway, Sophie's experience told her that tantrums are seldom about the thing they appear to be
about. She made Calcifer move over so that she could balance a pan of milk on the logs. When it was
warm, she thrust a mugful into Howl's hands. "Drink it," she said. "Now, what's all this fuss about? Is it
this young lady you keep going to see?"
Howl sipped the milk dolefully. "Yes," he said. "I left her alone to see if that would make her remember
me fondly, and it hasn't. She wasn't sure, even when I last saw her. Now she tells me there's another
fellow."
He sounded so miserable that Sophie felt quite sorry for him. Now his hair was dry. She noticed
guiltily, it really was almost pink.
"She's the most beautiful girl there ever was in these parts," Howl went on mournfully. "I love her so
dearly, but she scorns my deep devotion and gets sorry for another fellow. How can she have another
fellow after all this attention I've given her? They usually get rid of the other fellows as soon as I come
along."
Sophie's sympathy shrank quite sharply. It occurred to her that if Howl could cover himself with green
slime so easily, then he could just as easily turn his hair the proper color. "Then why don't you feed the
girl a love potion and get it over with?"
"Oh, no," said Howl. "That's not playing the game. That would spoil all the fun."
Sophie's sympathy shrank again. A game, was it? "Don't you ever give a thought for the poor girl?" she
snapped.
Howl finished the milk and gazed into the mug with a sentimental smile. "I think of her all the time," he
said. "Lovely, lovely Lettie Hatter."
Sophie's sympathy went for good, with a sharp bang. A good deal of anxiety took its place. Oh, Martha!
she thought. You have been busy! So it wasn't anyone in Cesari's you were talking about!

7: In which a scarecrow prevents Sophie from leaving the castle
Only a particularly bad attack of aches and pains prevented Sophie from setting out for Market
Chipping that evening. But the drizzle in Porthaven had gotten into her bones. She lay in her cubbyhole
and ached and worried about Martha. It might not be so bad, she thought. She only had to tell Martha
that the suitor she was not sure about was none other than Wizard Howl. That would scare Martha off.
And she would tell Martha that the way to scare Howl off was to announce that she was in love with
him, and then perhaps to threaten him with aunts.
Sophie was still creaking when she got up next morning. "Curse the Witch of the Waste!" she muttered