"Arkadi and Boris Strugatsky. Monday begins on Saturday (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

Gloomy Morning by Alexis Tolstoi. I opened it at random.
"Makhno, having broken the sardine can opener, pulled out a
mother-of-pearl knife with half a hundred blades, and continued to operate
with it, opening tins with pineapple [Now I've had it, I thought], French
pўt©, with lobsters, which filled the room with a pungent smell."
Gingerly I put down the book and sat down on the stool by the table. At
once a strong, appetizing odor permeated the room: it must have been the
odor of lobsters. I began to ponder why I had never tried a lobster before,
or, say, oysters. With Dickens, everybody eats oysters; working with folding
knives, they cut huge slabs of bread, spread them thickly with butter. . . .
I began to smooth the tablecloth with nervous movements. On it, latent food
stains appeared clearly visible. Much and tasty eating has been done on it,
I thought. Probably lobsters and brains with peas. Or miniature steaks with
sauce piquant. Also large and medium-sized steaks. People must have sighed,
replete with food, and sucked their teeth in huge satisfaction. There was no
cause for sighing and so I took to sucking my teeth.
I must have been doing it loudly and ravenously because the old woman
behind the wall creaked her bed, muttered angrily, rattled something
noisily, and suddenly entered my room. She had on a long gray nightshirt,
and she was carrying a plate, so that a genuine and not an imaginary odor of
food spread through the room. She was smiling, and set the plate directly in
front of me and rumbled sweetly, "Dig in, dear friend Alexander Petrovitch.
Help yourself to what God has sent, by his unworthy messenger....
"Really now, really, Naina Kievna," I was stammering, you shouldn't let
me disturb you so....
But my hand was already holding a fork with a horn handle, which had
appeared from somewhere, and I began to eat while the old woman stood by and
nodded and repeated, "Eat, my friend, eat to your health. . ."
And I ate it all. The dish was baked potatoes with melted butter.
"Naina Kievna," I said earnestly, "you have saved me from starving to
death."
"Finished?" said Naina Kievna, in a voice somehow tainted with
hostility.
"Yes, and magnificently fed. A tremendous thanks to you! You can't even
imagine how-- "
"What's there to imagine?" she interrupted, now definitely irritated.
"Filled up, I say? Then give me the plate.... The plate I say!"
"P-please," I mumbled.
"‘Please and please.' I have to feed you types for a please..."

"I can pay," said I, growing angry.
"‘I can pay, I can pay.'" She went to the door. "And what if this sort
of thing is not paid for at all? And you needn't have lied..."
"What do you mean-- lied?"
"Lied, that's how. You said yourself you wouldn't suck your teeth!"
She fell silent and disappeared through the door.

What's with her? I thought. A strange old bag. .

Maybe she noticed the clothes rack? There was the sound of creaking