Всадник без головы

Майн Рид. Всадник без головы

"Nonsense, my good fellow! There's nothing the matter with me. It's all your own imagination." "Trath, masther, yez arr mistaken. If there's anything asthray wid me imaginashun, fhwat is it that's gone wrong wid your own? That is, whin yez arr aslape-which aren't often av late." "When I'm

asleep! What do you mean, Phelim?" "What div I

mane? Fwhy, that wheniver yez close your eyes an think yez are sleepin', ye begin palaverin', as if a preast was confessin' ye!" "Ah! Is that so? What have you heard me say?" "Not much, masther, that I cud make sinse out av. Yez be always tryin' to pronounce a big name that appares to have no indin', though it begins wid a point!" "A name! What name?" "Sowl! I kyan't till ye exakly. It's too long for me to remimber, seein' that my edicashun was intirely neglicted. But there's another name that yez phut before it; an that I kyan tell ye. It's a wuman's name, though it's not common in the owld counthry. It's Looaze that ye say, Masther Maurice; an then comes the point." "Ah!" interrupted the young Irishman, evidently not caring to converse longer on the subject. "Some name I may have heard-somewhere, accidentally. One does have such strange ideas in dreams!" "Trath! yez spake the truth there; for in your drames, masther, ye talk about a purty girl lookin' out av a carriage wid curtains to it, an tellin' her to close them ag...

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