"the-daughter-of-the-regiment" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kipling Rudyard)

goin' to marry Corp'ril Slane? Whin you next conversh wid your lorruds
an' your ladies, tell thim you've danced wid little Jhansi. 'Tis a
thing to be proud av.'
But I wasn't proud. I was humble. I saw a story in Private
Mulvaney's eye; and besides, if he stayed too long at the bar, he
would, I knew, qualify for more pack-drill. Now to meet an esteemed
friend doing pack-drill outside the guard-room is embarrassing,
especially if you happen to be walking with his Commanding Officer.
'Come on to the parade-ground, Mulvaney, it's cooler there, and tell
me about Miss McKenna. What is she, and who is she, and why is she
called "Jhansi"?'
{DAUGHTER_OF_THE_REGIMENT ^paragraph 15}
'D'ye mane to say you've niver heard av Ould Pummeloe's daughter?
An' you thinkin' you know things! I'm wid ye in a minut' whin me
poipe's lit.'
We came out under the stars. Mulvaney sat down on one of the
artillery bridges, and began in the usual way: his pipe between his
teeth, his big hands clasped and dropped between his knees, and his
cap well on the back of his head-
'Whin Mrs. Mulvaney, that is, was Miss Shad, that was, you were a
dale younger than you are now, an' the Army was dif'rint in sev'ril
e-senshuls. Bhoys have no call for to marry nowadays, an' that's why
the Army has so few rale, good, honust, swearin', strap-agin',
tinder-hearted, heavy-futted wives as ut used to have whin I was a
Corp'ril. I was rejuced aftherwards- but no matther- I was a
Corp'ril wanst. In thim times, a man lived ®an'Ї died wid his
rigiment; an' by natur', he married whin he was a ®manЇ. Whin I was
Corp'ril- Mother av Hivin, how the rigimint has died an' been borrun
since that day!- my Colour-Sar'jint was Ould McKenna, an' a married
man tu. An' his woife- his first woife, for he married three times did
McKenna- was Bridget McKenna, from Portarlington, like mesilf. I've
misremembered fwhat her first name was, but in B Comp'ny we called her
"Ould Pummeloe," by reason av her figure, which was entirely
cir-cum-fe-renshill. Like the big dhrum! Now that woman- God rock
her sowl to rest in glory!- was for everlastin' havin' childher; an'
McKenna, whin the fifth or sixth come squallin' on to the
musther-roll, swore he wud number thim off in future. But Ould
Pummeloe she prayed av him to christen them after the names av the
stations they was borrun in. So there was Colaba McKenna, an' Muttra
McKenna, an' a whole Presidincy av other McKennas, an' little
Jhansi, dancin' over yonder. Whin the childher wasn't bornin', they
was dyin'; for, av our childher die like sheep in these days, they
died like flies thin. I lost me own little Shad- but no matther.
'Tis long ago, and Mrs. Mulvaney niver had another.
'I'm digresshin. Wan divil's hot summer, there come an order from
some mad ijjit, whose name I misremember, for the rigimint to go
up-country. Maybe they wanted to know how the new rail carried
throops. They knew! On me sowl, they knew before they was done! Old
Pummeloe had just buried Muttra McKenna; an', the season bein'
onwholesim, only little Jhansi McKenna, who was four year ould thin,