[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
you find yours?
Quite good. Would you like a taste?
She inclined her head, and I held the bowl so she could try the barley
soup.
Better than the tomato, she confirmed. You should see.
I tried hers, and she was right. The barley soup was better, fuller. I
broke off a corner of the
cranberry roll, still almost steaming, then finished my soup.
I really never knew Miranda, I said, after the waiter removed the soup
bowls. Was she always
talking nonsense?
Nonsense, I would not say. She always repeated the small ... the trivial.
One time, she spoke at a
meeting four times about the need to revoke the concert Steinbach. And
Doktor Geoffries, he had
agreed to approach the dean for the necessary funds after she spoke the
Page 43
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
first time. Llysette finished her
second glass of the white. My glass remained about half full, but I
refilled hers.
I frowned. Did she keep confidences?
Confidences?
Top
Page No 27
Secrets. If you asked her not to repeat something ...
Mais rum. A tale she knew, everyone knew.
Still, it is very sad.
Very sad, Llysette agreed.
The waiter arrived with our pasta, and another cranberry roll for me.
Llysette had scarcely touched
her roll.
The fettucini alfredo, especially with the fresh-ground Parmesan, had
that slight tang that subtly lifted
it above the mere combination of cheese, cream, garlic, and pasta.
How is the primavera?
It is good. You would like a little?
If you could spare it.
I eat all of this, and into no recital gown will I fit.
I didn t have a witty response. Instead I leaned over and tasted some of her
dinner. The primavera
was as good as the fettucini, but you expected that when you paid Angelo s
prices.
It is good, I said. Would you like some of the alfredo?
Non. I will not finish what I have.
Several minutes passed before Llysette wiped her mouth on the red linen
napkin and took a swallow
of her wine. Then, glass still in her hand, she asked, Johan, what was
it did you miss something the
most when you left the capital? Her eyes were thoughtful.
I finished a small sip of my own wine before answering. Most times,
when you leave a place, you do
miss things, especially at first. I thought I might miss things like the
museums, or that something was
always happening. At first, I missed the newspapers. I missed the
up-to-date radio and even the stuffy
television news. But I noticed something after a while. I started missing
items in the news, and nothing
changed. I mean, the names change, but the problems continue, and they go on
and on. I shrugged.
What do you miss about France? I grinned. The food?
Ah, yes, the food I miss. Her eyes clouded for a moment, and she
swallowed more wine.
Or the singing, the culture? I prodded gently.
Johan, you understand ... and still ... you are here. She shook her
head. That I do not
understand.
There is little more culture in the Federal District of Columbia than
here in Vanderbraak Centre. The
most popular play at Ford s Theatre is the updated revival of The Importance
of Being Earnest. The
most popular classical music is either Beethoven s Ninth or the 1812
Page 44
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Overture. Yes, there is more to
choose from, but given the choice ... I let the words drop off.
She finished her wine, and I poured the last of the San Merino into her
glass.
You sing better work than often appears in Columbia.
And yet, I am here, forced to teach spoiled Dutch burghers who believe
one note is much the same
as another.
After looking at the remainder of the fettucini, I nodded to the waiter,
who removed both plates.
Some coffee?
Llysette shook her head.
Perhaps a brandy? I asked.
Not this evening, Johan. Perhaps we should go. You must rise early.
The check, please? I beckoned, and the waiter nodded. He returned as
Llysette drained the last of
the wine.
I left a twenty and a five, and we walked to the front, past a scattering
of couples in the main room.
How was the dinner? Angelo stood by the door as we left.
Very good, as usual. The barley soup I d like to see that more often.
And, I winked at Llysette,
perhaps a shade less tomato in the tomato rice potage.
What can I say, Doktor? Your taste in wine, women, and food is
impeccable.
The lady is even more discriminating in wine and food, but more tolerant in
men, thankfully. I
nodded.
Top
Page No 28
Angelo bowed to Llysette.
Once we were in the courtyard, Llysette glanced back toward the restaurant,
and then toward me.
Here, no one believes a woman has taste except you.
That s because few men or women have taste.
Johan, sometimes you are more jaded than I.
Only sometimes? I helped her into the steamer.
A light rain began to patter on the roof of the Stanley as I
drove back out the old Hebron Road to Llysette s cottage. Her tiny Reo
runabout was still parked in
front of the porch, and her trousers got damp when we scurried up to the
front door, despite my trying to
keep the umbrella over her.
Thank you for the evening, Johan.
Thank you.
I bent down and kissed her. Her lips were warm, welcoming, but not quite
yielding. I did not even
suggest I should come in. The next morning, I knew, would come all too
early, and I had an
hour-and-a-half drive westward to the Blauwasser River to catch the train
in Lebanon.
Good night, dear lady.
Good night, Johan. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl exclamation.htw.pl
you find yours?
Quite good. Would you like a taste?
She inclined her head, and I held the bowl so she could try the barley
soup.
Better than the tomato, she confirmed. You should see.
I tried hers, and she was right. The barley soup was better, fuller. I
broke off a corner of the
cranberry roll, still almost steaming, then finished my soup.
I really never knew Miranda, I said, after the waiter removed the soup
bowls. Was she always
talking nonsense?
Nonsense, I would not say. She always repeated the small ... the trivial.
One time, she spoke at a
meeting four times about the need to revoke the concert Steinbach. And
Doktor Geoffries, he had
agreed to approach the dean for the necessary funds after she spoke the
Page 43
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
first time. Llysette finished her
second glass of the white. My glass remained about half full, but I
refilled hers.
I frowned. Did she keep confidences?
Confidences?
Top
Page No 27
Secrets. If you asked her not to repeat something ...
Mais rum. A tale she knew, everyone knew.
Still, it is very sad.
Very sad, Llysette agreed.
The waiter arrived with our pasta, and another cranberry roll for me.
Llysette had scarcely touched
her roll.
The fettucini alfredo, especially with the fresh-ground Parmesan, had
that slight tang that subtly lifted
it above the mere combination of cheese, cream, garlic, and pasta.
How is the primavera?
It is good. You would like a little?
If you could spare it.
I eat all of this, and into no recital gown will I fit.
I didn t have a witty response. Instead I leaned over and tasted some of her
dinner. The primavera
was as good as the fettucini, but you expected that when you paid Angelo s
prices.
It is good, I said. Would you like some of the alfredo?
Non. I will not finish what I have.
Several minutes passed before Llysette wiped her mouth on the red linen
napkin and took a swallow
of her wine. Then, glass still in her hand, she asked, Johan, what was
it did you miss something the
most when you left the capital? Her eyes were thoughtful.
I finished a small sip of my own wine before answering. Most times,
when you leave a place, you do
miss things, especially at first. I thought I might miss things like the
museums, or that something was
always happening. At first, I missed the newspapers. I missed the
up-to-date radio and even the stuffy
television news. But I noticed something after a while. I started missing
items in the news, and nothing
changed. I mean, the names change, but the problems continue, and they go on
and on. I shrugged.
What do you miss about France? I grinned. The food?
Ah, yes, the food I miss. Her eyes clouded for a moment, and she
swallowed more wine.
Or the singing, the culture? I prodded gently.
Johan, you understand ... and still ... you are here. She shook her
head. That I do not
understand.
There is little more culture in the Federal District of Columbia than
here in Vanderbraak Centre. The
most popular play at Ford s Theatre is the updated revival of The Importance
of Being Earnest. The
most popular classical music is either Beethoven s Ninth or the 1812
Page 44
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Overture. Yes, there is more to
choose from, but given the choice ... I let the words drop off.
She finished her wine, and I poured the last of the San Merino into her
glass.
You sing better work than often appears in Columbia.
And yet, I am here, forced to teach spoiled Dutch burghers who believe
one note is much the same
as another.
After looking at the remainder of the fettucini, I nodded to the waiter,
who removed both plates.
Some coffee?
Llysette shook her head.
Perhaps a brandy? I asked.
Not this evening, Johan. Perhaps we should go. You must rise early.
The check, please? I beckoned, and the waiter nodded. He returned as
Llysette drained the last of
the wine.
I left a twenty and a five, and we walked to the front, past a scattering
of couples in the main room.
How was the dinner? Angelo stood by the door as we left.
Very good, as usual. The barley soup I d like to see that more often.
And, I winked at Llysette,
perhaps a shade less tomato in the tomato rice potage.
What can I say, Doktor? Your taste in wine, women, and food is
impeccable.
The lady is even more discriminating in wine and food, but more tolerant in
men, thankfully. I
nodded.
Top
Page No 28
Angelo bowed to Llysette.
Once we were in the courtyard, Llysette glanced back toward the restaurant,
and then toward me.
Here, no one believes a woman has taste except you.
That s because few men or women have taste.
Johan, sometimes you are more jaded than I.
Only sometimes? I helped her into the steamer.
A light rain began to patter on the roof of the Stanley as I
drove back out the old Hebron Road to Llysette s cottage. Her tiny Reo
runabout was still parked in
front of the porch, and her trousers got damp when we scurried up to the
front door, despite my trying to
keep the umbrella over her.
Thank you for the evening, Johan.
Thank you.
I bent down and kissed her. Her lips were warm, welcoming, but not quite
yielding. I did not even
suggest I should come in. The next morning, I knew, would come all too
early, and I had an
hour-and-a-half drive westward to the Blauwasser River to catch the train
in Lebanon.
Good night, dear lady.
Good night, Johan. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]