Любовник леди Чаттерлей
Chapter 17
’Isthattheregularprice?’askedHilda.
’Less,Signora,less.Theregularprice--’
Thesistersconsidered.
’Well,’saidHilda,’cometomorrowmorning,andwewillarrangeit.Whatisyourname?’
HisnamewasGiovanni,andhewantedtoknowatwhattimeheshouldcome,andthenforwhomshouldhesayhewaswaiting.Hildahadnocard.Conniegavehimoneofhers.Heglancedatitswiftly,withhishot,southernblueeyes,thenglancedagain.
’Ah!’hesaid,lightingup.’Milady!Milady,isn’tit?’
’MiladyCostanza!’saidConnie.
Henodded,repeating:’MiladyCostanza!’andputtingthecardcarefullyawayinhisblouse.
TheVillaEsmeraldawasquitealongwayout,ontheedgeofthelagoonlookingtowardsChioggia.Itwasnotaveryoldhouse,andpleasant,withtheterraceslookingseawards,andbelow,quiteabiggardenwithdarktrees,walledinfromthelagoon.
Theirhostwasaheavy,rathercoarseScotchmanwhohadmadeagoodfortuneinItalybeforethewar,andhadbeenknightedforhisultrapatriotismduringthewar.Hiswifewasathin,pale,sharpkindofpersonwithnofortuneofherown,andthemisfortuneofhavingtoregulateherhusband’srathersordidamorousexploits.Hewasterriblytiresomewiththeservants.Buthavinghadaslightstrokeduringthewinter,hewasnowmoremanageable.
Thehousewasprettyfull.
