"Oscar Wilde. The Canterville Ghost" - читать интересную книгу автора

off into the most piercing shrieks, which culminated in violent apoplexy,
and died in three days, after disinherting the Cantervilles, who were her
nearest relations, and leaving all her money to her London apothecary. At
the last moment, his terror of the twins prevented his leaving his room, and
the little Duke slept in peace under the great feathered canopy in the Royal
Bedchamber, and dreamed of Virginia.


V

A few days after this, Virginia and her curly-haired cavalier went out
riding on Brockery meadows, where she tore her habit so badly in getting
through a hedge, that, on their return home, she made up her mind to go up
by the back staircase so as not to be seen. As she was runnig past the
Tapestry Chamber, the door of which happened to be open, she fancied she saw
some one inside, and thinking it was her mother's maid, who sometimes used
to bring her work here, looked in to ask her to mend her habit. To her
immense surprise, however, it was the Canterville ghost himself! He was
sitting by the window, watching the ruined gold of the yellowing trees fly
through the air, and the red leaves dancing madly down the long avenue. His
head was leaning on his hand, and his whole attitude was one of extreme
depression. Indeed, so forlorn, and so much out of repair did he look, that
little Virginia, whose first idea had been to run away and lock herself in
her room, was filled with pity, and determined to try and comfort him. So
light was her footfall, and so deep his melancholy, that he was not aware of
her presence tillshe spoke to him.
"I am so sorry for you," she said, "but my brothers are
going back to Eton to-morrow, and then, if you behave yourself, no one will
annoy you."
"It is absurd asking me to behave myself," he answered,
looking round in astonishment at the pretty little girl who had ventured to
address him, "quite absurd. I must rattle my chains, and groan through
keyholes, and walk about at night, if that is what you mean. It is my only
reason for existing."
"It is no reason at all for existing, and you know you have been
very wicked. Mrs. Umney told us, the first day we arrived here, that you had
killed your wife."
"Well, I quite admit it," said the ghost petulantly,
"but it was a purely family matter, and concerned no one else."
"It is very wrong to kill any one," said Virginia, who at
times had a sweet Puritan gravity, caught from some old New England
ancestor.
"Oh, I hate the cheap severity of abstract ethics! My wife was
very plain, never had my ruffs properly starched, and knew nothing about
cookery. Why, there was a buck I had shot in Hogley Woods, a magnificent
pricket, and do you know how she had it sent up to table? However, it is no
matter now, for it is all over, and I don't think it was very nice of her
brothers to starve me to death, though I had killed her."
"Starve you to death? Oh, Mr. Ghost, I mean Sir Simon, are you
hungry? I have a sandwich in my case. Would you like it?"