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ВІДКРИТЕ ВІКНО (після, Мунро h.)"Моя тітка буде спуститися в лічені хвилини, г-н Nuttel," сказав дівчину за п'ятнадцять, показав йому у вітальні. Г-н Nuttel був молодий художник, який нещодавно був нервовий зрив. Лікарі сказав йому, що він повинен піти геть на свято. Вони попередив його, однак, проти переповненому курортів і рекомендував повне відпочити в тихому місці країни. Так от він був, в маленькій селі, з рекомендаційні листи від його сестра для деяких людей, вона знала."Деякі люди там дуже приємно", його сестра була сказав йому. "1 раджу закликати Місіс Sappleton як так на ви приїдете.} зобов'язаний чудовий відпочинок, що я мав її.""Ви знаєте багато людей круглі тут?" як ked дівчата коли "вони були зручно сидить на дивані."Ні, я боюся, я не" відповів р-н Nuttel. "Я ніколи не були тут раніше. Моя сестра залишилися тут чотири роки тому, ви знаєте, і вона дала мені рекомендаційні листи до деяких людей тут"."Тоді ви нічого не знаєте про моєї тітки, ви?" запитав дівчину."Тільки її ім'я та адреса," сказав відвідувач."Її велика трагедія сталася лише три роки тому," сказав дитини."Її трагедії?" запитав пан Nuttel."Ви можете здивуватися, чому ми тримаємо це вікно широко відкритими на вп жовтня вдень," пішов на дівчинку, вказуючи на Велике кругле вікно Французька."Досить тепло за цю пору року,", сказав пан горіх tfc!. "Але це вікно нічого спільного з tra gedy?"“Exactly three years ago my aunt’s husband and her two young brothers walked out through that window. They went shooting and never came back. When they were cros sing the river their boat probably turned over and they were all drowned. Their bodies were never found. That was the most horrible part of the tragedy.” Here the girl stopped. There were tears in her eyes and she drew a handkerchief out of her pocket. “Three years have passed, but my poor aunt still thinks that they will come back some day, they and the little brown dog that was drowned with them, and walk in through that window just as they always did. That is why the window is kept open every evening till it’s quite dark. Poor dear aunt, she can’t understand that they’ve left for ever. She’s crowing worse day by day, so let me give you some advice. Don’t be surprised at anything she says or does: she will start telling you all over again how they went out — her husband, with his coat over his arm, and her youngest brother, singing ‘Bertie, why don’t you come?...’ as she once told me. You know, sometimes, on quiet evenings like this, 1 almost get a feeling that they will all walk in through that window, and the whole family will be gathered in here again.’’ The young girl finished her sad story. There was a long pause, and Mr Nut- tel was glad when Mrs Sappleton at last entered the room. .“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said, “but I hope my niece has entertained you well."“Yes, she’s been very amusing,” said Mr Nuttel.“D’you mind the open window?” asked Mrs Sappleton. “My husband and brothers will soon be home from shooting and they always come into the house this way." And she went on speaking gaily about shooting. After what Mr Nut tel had just heard, he looked worried.“The doctors told me,” he said, trying to change the subject, “to have a rest here and to avoid anything that would make me feel nervous.”“Did they?” said Mrs Sappleton in a voice which showed that she was not at all interested in what Mr Nuttel was saying. She never took her eyes off the open window and suddenly cried out:“Here they are at last! Just in time for tea. How tired they look.”Mr Nuttel looked at the girl and saw that she was looking out through the open window with horror in her eyes. Mr Nuttel turned round slowly in his seat, looked in the same direction and saw three figures walking across the garden towards the window. They all carried guns and one of them had a coat over his shoulder. A tired brown dog w’as following them. Noiselessly they approached the house, and then a young voice began to sing. “Bertie, why don’t you come?”Mr Nuttel seized his hat and ran out of the house like mad.“Here we are, my dear,” said Mrs Sappleton’s husband, coming in through the window. “We’ve enjoyed ourselves very much. I wonder what made that gentleman run out so quickly when we came up? Who is he?”“A very strange young man, called Nuttel. He could only talk about his illness. He didn’t say a single interes ting thing. I don’t understand why he ran out that way without saying good-bye,” said his wife.“I think it was the dog,” said the niece calmly. "He told me that he was afraid of dogs. Once when he was attacked by a pack of dogs somewhere in India, he was so frightened that he started running like mad, and finding himself in a cemetery, climbed down into a newly-dug grave, where he had to spend the night. Since then he has always been afraid of dogs.”She was very good at inventing stories and did it artis tically.
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