воскресенье, 01 апреля 2012
Бэзил в своей автобиографии
(In and Out of Character) описывает занимательный случай, произошедший с ним и Этвиллом)
"It was, I recall, the party which we gave a couple months after Errol Flynn's anecdotic landing on our lawn, when some girl's vigilant father, finding Errol in his lodgings, had the mind to drive him back to our place and throw him down onto the grass. This time, we had a bit of company, including Gene Raymond, George Jessel and Buddy Rogers. The evening went on, bright and loud, until someone fancied our swimming pool as a target for diving practice; I went to see and was involved in lengthy argument, conducted mostly in the dark, and one of those when the mind of the opponent is totally oppressed with liquid matter. I had them leave the friendly harbour, upon which the night seemed to exhaust itself and everyone was slowly getting off.
...Early morning saw me heading towards the ill-suffering pool in vague but striving hope to see if no-one drowned himself during the night hour. I was in my dressing gown and trod barefooted, spared of the slightest wish to encounter anyone or anything. It seemed, however, that I was building castles in the air, for when I was about to pass the greenery on my elaborated lawn, I had a vision of a shoe, dark brown, peering out of it like a cloth before a weary bull. My heart sank in my chest. Obviously, this was another visitor questioning the rules of hospitality and laws of private property. Slipping my hands deep into my pockets, I went to investigate the identity of intruder. I drew aside a branch or two; then I gasped and probably was rendered speechless. I knew the stout figure dressed in immaculate but somewhat rumpled suit, and by his side, a fancy girl, all tousled, with her shoes and stockings lying nearby in a fancy mess. The disposition of two bodies, thankfully having a decent amount of clothes on, suggested the inexplicable. My heart sank even farther.
"What is the meaning of all this?" I cried, hardly knowing my own voice.
The body did not move. I stared blankly at the back of the red head for quite a time, feeling myself the greatest fool among the living. Lionel Atwill it was, one of my guests, a person not easily approved by public morals and paying not the slightest heed. After a short consideration, I compelled myself to re-establishing the order.
"Pinky!"
I grabbed him by the shoulder and gave a sound shake. His thin lips twisted with disgust. I waited patiently until his heavy lids unveiled the piercing eyes which stared at me, slightly bloodshot and obscure.
"Pinky!" I went on. "Get yourself up!"
"Please, be so kind as to remember that you're addressing a gentleman".
Thus spoken, he was done with me and my advice. I had but wait until he came round and produced some explanation, or none, as he pleased. Slowly coming to, he clenched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and bent forward. He was positively dry and entirely unfriendly.
"I'll get you water and some ice. And wake the girl".
I went inside through the door of the kitchen. When I was back, the girl still lay, asleep or unconscious, while he himself was cleaning up his suit. I handed him the glass of water which he took as if for granted and was done with it in a second. His harsh and dominating manner seemed to somehow dissolve; as I knew him, he always was a trifle bit unruly, off the track, gentlemanly though, in his own, devil-may-care disposition. Meanwhile, he grabbed the ice and pressed it to his forehead, heaving a sigh of content.
"What were you doing there?" I demanded, pretending not to know.
His right eye followed me with an expression of courteous curiosity.
"Amusing ourselves, perhaps?"
"All right then. Who's the girl?"
"I haven't the idea".
"Pinky, do be sensible".
He sniffed at me and smiled, sarcastically.
"Is it your acquaintance?"
"No", he snapped. His bloodless lips again produced a smile.
"Then who is she? We've got to take her home".
"Don't be ridiculous", he grunted. "What do you think I've picked her for? A name?"
I shrugged and made my way towards the pool".
@музыка:
♫ Uriah Heep - Illusion
@темы:
Мемуары машинки "Torpedo",
Вавилонская библиотека,
Rathbone,
Fire At Will
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01.04.2012 в 20:30-
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01.04.2012 в 20:57-
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01.04.2012 в 21:34