"Деннис Уитли. The Devil Rides Out (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

nervous cough as he interchanged a swift look with a fleshy, moon-
faced man whom De Richleau knew to be Mocata.
'Well, well, how nice,' the bald man lisped with unsmiling eyes.
'It is a pleasure always to welcome any friends of Simon's.'
De Richleau gave him a frigid bow and thought of reminding him
coldly that Simon's welcome was sufficient in his own house, but for
the moment it was policy to hide his antagonism so he replied
politely that Mocata was most kind, then, with the ease which
characterised all his movements, he turned his attention to an
elderly lady who was seated near by.
She was a woman of advanced age but fine presence, richly dressed
and almost weighed down with heavy jewellery. Between her fingers
she held the stub of a fat cigar at which she was puffing
vigorously.
'Madame.' The Duke drew a case containing the long Hoyos from his
pocket and bent towards her. 'Your cigar is almost finished, permit
me to offer you one of mine.'
She regarded him for a moment with piercingly bright eyes, then
stretched out a fat, beringed hand. 'Sank you, Monsieur, I see you
are a connoisseur.' With her beaked, parrot nose she sniffed at the
cigar appreciatively. 'But I have not seen you at our other
meetings, what ees your name?'
'De Richleau, Madame, and yours?'
'De Richleau I a maestro indeed.' She nodded heavily. 'Je suis
Madame D'Urfe, you will 'ave heard of me.'
'But certainly.' The Duke bowed again. 'Do you think we shall
have a good meeting tonight?'
'If the sky clears we should learn much,' answered the old lady
cryptically.
'Ho! Ho!' thought the Duke. 'We are about to make use of Simon's
observatory it seems. Good, let us learn more.' But before he could
pump the elderly Frenchwoman further, Simon deftly interrupted the
conversation and drew him away.
'So you have taken up the study of the stars, my friend,'
remarked the Duke as his host led him to the buffet.
'Oh, er-yes. Find astronomy very interesting, you know. Have some
caviare?' Simon's eyes flickered anxiously towards Rex, who was deep
in conversation with the girl.
As he admired her burnished hair and slumbrous eyes, for a moment
the Duke was reminded of a Botticelli painting. She had, he thought,
that angel look with nothing Christian in it peculiar to women born
out of their time, the golden virgin to the outward eye whose veins
were filled with unlit fire. A rare cinquecento type who should have
lived in the Italy of the Borgias. Then he turned again to Simon.
'It was because of the observatory then that you acquired this
house, I suppose?'
'Yes. You must come up one night and we'll watch a few stars
together.' Something of the old warmth had crept into Simon's tone
and he was obviously in earnest as he offered the invitation, but
the Duke was not deceived into believing that he was welcome on the