Emily Brontë - Сборник лучших произведений английской классической литературы. Уровень 3

I led her in to breakfast.

“Sophie is my nurse; she came with me over the sea in a great ship with a chimney that smoked-how it did smoke! – and I was sick, and so was Sophie, and so was Mr. Rochester,” the girl continued. Then she suddenly asked, “And what is your name, Mademoiselle?”

“Eyre-Jane Eyre.”

She repeated it with a French accent and got upset that she could not pronounce it correctly.

After breakfast, Adèle and I withdrew to the library, the room Mr. Rochester had ordered to be used as the schoolroom. There was a bookcase containing everything that could be needed in the way of elementary works, a piano, a pair of globes and an easel for painting.

Adèle was docile and eager to study but she was not accustomed to any kind of discipline. I felt it would be cruel to keep her all day the first time, and I allowed her to return to her nurse at noon.

I decided to draw some little sketches for her use and was on my way upstairs to fetch my pencils when Mrs. Fairfax called me, “Your school hours are over now, I suppose,” she said. “Would you like to see the house?”

I followed her into every room, gazing in wonder at the beautiful furniture, the rich deep carpets, and the grand empty bedrooms with their velvet drapes. Mrs. Fairfax dusted here and there as she showed me around.

“In what order you keep these rooms, Mrs. Fairfax!” I said. “Except that the air feels chilly, one would think they were inhabited daily.”

“Why, Miss Eyre, though Mr. Rochester's visits here are rare, they are always sudden and unexpected. So, I thought it would be best to keep the rooms in readiness.”

“What is Mr. Rochester like? Do you like him? Is he generally liked?” I asked

“Oh, yes; the family have always been respected here. And I have no cause to do otherwise than like him. He has always been just and noble. But he is rather peculiar, I suppose.”

“In what way is he peculiar?” I asked.

“I don't know-it is not easy to describe-nothing striking, but you feel it when he speaks to you; you cannot be always sure whether he is pleased or the contrary; you don't thoroughly understand him, in short-at least, I don't: but he is a very good master.”

We were already upstairs; now I followed her through a doorway and up a narrow staircase to the attic. We went along a gloomy passageway, then up a ladder and through a trapdoor onto the roof.

We were as high up as the rooks in the trees behind the house, and I could look right into their nests. Walking around the battlements, I saw the grounds laid out like a map, with the meadows, the village and the hills beyond all lying peacefully in the warm autumn sun.

By now it was almost time for lunch. While Mrs. Fairfax stayed to fasten the trapdoor, I climbed down the ladder. My eyes had grown used to the bright sunshine, and now the attic passageway seemed pitch-black. I had to feel my way along the walls in the silence.

As I was nearing the top of the attic stairs, I heard a very strange sound. It was a kind of laugh, but not a happy one. It sounded loud, hollow and inhuman-almost like a bark. If I had been alone, and if it hadn't been the middle of the day, I would have feared it was a ghost. I hurried down the staircase and through the door into the upstairs hallway.

“Mrs. Fairfax,” I called. She emerged a few moments later.

“Did you hear that loud laugh? Who is it?” I asked.

“Some of the servants, very likely,” she answered: “perhaps Grace Poole. I often hear her: she sews in one of these rooms.”

The laugh was repeated in a low tone and ended with a murmur.

“Grace!” exclaimed Mrs. Fairfax.

I really did not expect any Grace to answer; but the door nearest me opened, and a servant came out, – a woman of between thirty and forty; a red-haired figure with a hard, plain face. If she were an apparition, there were no apparition less ghostly.

“Too much noise, Grace,” said Mrs. Fairfax.

As we went on, my companion asked me about Adèle, and the conversation about the girl continued till we reached the light and cheerful region downstairs.

Adèle met us there, and we found dinner ready, and waiting for us in Mrs. Fairfax's room.

The promise of a smooth career was coming true. Never before had I been granted such a pleasant existence [22]  Never before had I been granted such a pleasant existence. – Никогда раньше не доводилось мне так счастливо жить. . Mrs. Fairfax turned out to be what she appeared, a calm woman of average intelligence. My pupil was a lively child, spoilt but teachable and obedient. She made progress, and her efforts to please me inspired me, thus, we were both content in each other's society.

Yet now and then, when I was left alone and took a walk by myself in the grounds or climbed up to the attic to admire the view, I longed for the busy world, towns, regions full of life. I desired more of practical experience than I possessed and more people around me to talk to. Then my only relief was to walk along the corridor of the third storey, backwards and forwards, safe in the silence and solitude, and to open my inward ear to a tale that was never ended-a tale my imagination created, a tale full of incident, life, fire, feeling, that I desired and had not in my actual life.

When I was near the attic, I often heard Grace Poole's laugh-the same low, slow ha! ha! which was followed by her eccentric murmurs.

October, November and December passed away. One afternoon in January, Mrs. Fairfax asked for a holiday for Adèle, because she had a cold, and I agreed.

It was a fine, calm day, though very cold. I was tired of sitting still in the library through a whole long morning and, as Mrs. Fairfax had just written a letter, I volunteered to carry it to Hay and post it. The distance of two miles could become a pleasant winter afternoon walk.

I walked fast till I got warm. Then I walked slowly, and after a mile or so I stopped to rest. A sheet of ice lay across the track where a stream had run over it and frozen solid. From where I was, I could see Thornfield, with its dark battlements and woods. Looking the other way, I saw chimney smoke rising from the houses at the top of the hill. Behind them, the moon was rising. I stayed there in absolute peace, listening to the faint sound of the rivers in the valley.

Just as I was about to set off again, I heard the metallic clatter of horses' hooves approaching. I couldn't see anything, as the lane was narrow and winding, but someone was certainly coming. I stood back to let them pass.

When the noise was close, but there was still no one in sight, I was startled to see a huge dog sniffing right next to me. It was brown and white, with a long coat, and such a large, hairy head that it reminded me of a lion. I shrank back, but the dog ran past without even looking at me. Almost at once the rider galloped past too-a man on a tall, sturdy horse-and I continued my journey.

Then I heard a scraping sound, and the man cursing. I turned back to see that both horse and rider were on the ground: they had slipped on the ice I had been looking at [23]  I turned back to see that both horse and rider were on the ground: they had slipped on the ice I had been looking at. – Я обернулась и увидела, что и лошадь, и наездник были на земле: они поскользнулись на том самом льду, на который я смотрела ранее. . The dog sniffed around them, then came up to me, barking. I followed him back down the track.

“Are you injured, sir?” I asked. “Can I do anything?”

“You must just stand on one side,” he answered as he rose, first to his knees, and then to his feet. Then he helped the horse. Meanwhile, the dog was barking and leaping around, and was at last silenced with a 'Down, Pilot!'.