Мхи старой усадьбы
Mrs. Bullfrog
Todivertmymind,Itookupthenewspaperwhichhadcoveredthelittlebasketofrefreshments,andwhichnowlayatthebottomofthecoach,blushingwithadeep-redstainandemittingapotentspirituousfumefromthecontentsofthebrokenbottleofKalydor.Thepaperwastwoorthreeyearsold,butcontainedanarticleofseveralcolumns,inwhichIsoongrewwonderfullyinterested.Itwasthereportofatrialforbreachofpromiseofmarriage,givingthetestimonyinfull,withfervidextractsfromboththegentleman’sandlady’samatorycorrespondence.Thedeserteddamselhadpersonallyappearedincourt,andhadborneenergeticevidencetoherlover’sperfidyandthestrengthofherblightedaffections.Onthedefendant’sparttherehadbeenanattempt,thoughinsufficientlysustained,toblasttheplaintiff’scharacter,andaplea,inmitigationofdamages,onaccountofherunamiabletemper.Ahorribleideawassuggestedbythelady’sname.
"Madam,"saidI,holdingthenewspaperbeforeMrs.Bullfrog’seyes,—and,thoughasmall,delicate,andthin-visagedman,IfeelassuredthatIlookedveryterrific,—"madam,"repeatedI,throughmyshutteeth,"wereyoutheplaintiffinthiscause?"
"Oh,mydearMr.Bullfrog,"repliedmywife,sweetly,"Ithoughtalltheworldknewthat!"
"Horror!horror!"exclaimedI,sinkingbackontheseat.
