My fair lady
The doorbell rang and he forced himself up to open the door. He was a middle-aged man, judging by the photos on the wall a colonel. He had many medals and a permanent pain in his back. Having opened the door he got stunned by amazement. A tall young woman in a sandy cloak and a black hat was standing at his porch.
- My dear man! – She smiled and hugged him. Colonel was taken aback by her firm grip.
- How’re you, Agnessa? – He asked when following her into the sitting room.
- Fine, you know me.
But colonel’s expression didn’t give out any knowledge at all. He sank in his fine English armchair.
- I’ve just come, - she continued pouring some whisky into a wide glass. – The trains in our country are awful.
- U-hm, - he replied bump on a log.
He was getting worried: her strange trim, the pugnacity of her voice, her strange manner of holding the head up, the way she walked clashed the image he had remembered. He had know her as a gay young girl who cared so little about future that married his cousin in a week after making acquaintance, a girl who liked flowers and riding dozen buses with a ticket valid for only a day. He had not expected to see her as a tough woman with manlike laugh and weather-beaten sunburnt face, and of course he had never imagined such a cold glistening in her grey eyes. A large fireplace was the only source of light in the room; gleams of flame licked the dark walls. Colonel could see her colored red and orange by these flames. Agnes was regarding one of his paintings with a bitter contempt displayed on her face. Being in a hostile trim Mark could offend anyone without ever knowing it or caring to. Colonel smiled because he knew that people influence each other, especially lovers.
- Colonel, have you ever doubted the honesty of your agents? – she asked placing her glass on a plinth.
- No, my fair lady, - he answered. But having thrown a glance on her sharp profile, he recognized his mischief.
- You have changed much, - he told her in another tone.
- Yes, I have, - she answered somewhat abruptly.
There was a pause he couldn’t stand long.
- How’s Mark? – he asked finally.
Her half-turned head threw a piercing look at him and returned to contemplation.
- I don’t think your landscape’s genuine, - she said as though mindful.
- I believe it to be one, - he said slowly.
- Nope. A battlefield a place where two armies had just clashed could not have looked like this, - she pointed to something but he wasn’t looking.
- Agnessa, what’s wrong? – he lowered his voice but she heard him only too well not to reply.
- Agnessa? – he repeated.
She looked as if she had lost the bump of speaking being more than eager to say something.
- You’re getting on well with Mark, don’t you?... Come, Agnes, I know your trim, your arrival means something, doesn’t it? – he was really worried then while she stayed mute.
- I know, my cousin makes a real fool of him sometimes, but you mustn’t hold him in contempt. He loves you greatly, - he stopped, she was crying.
- He doesn’t any more… - she sobbed.
- Oh, you shouldn’t think so. From the very first moment I saw you together I realized that your love is something special it makes you unseparetable.
- It used to.
- No, my dear, - his voice was becoming stronger within every moment. – You must forgive him whatever he had done.
- He died! – she cried slipping down by the wall. – He bumped three days ago!
He took her up gently and seated on a sofa.

- It’s time to return, thank you for everything, - she smiled at him with her eyes light-grey.
- You haven’t passed even a week here, - he tried to protest.
- Yeah, but I’ve got to go. There are many things he left waiting.
When she took up her huge suitcase colonel noticed her unbelievable (in comparison with her past image) strength.
- I’ll come back sometime, - she said outstretching the right hand towards him.
- Whenever you need anything, - he replied, dazed a little by the look of her hat.
- Or when you do, I’m not worse in business than Mark.
- Keep your head up!
- You’re a good man, the last one left in the world, - she said.
- Yes, and my essential quality is my immense modesty, - he said proudly. She grinned. – Now off you go.
At the very moment he closed the door colonel realized what was wrong about her appearance: she was wearing the hat of her husband.

__________________
Смысл жизни известен пока о нем не спрашивают (с) Klayman

инь-ян

и да будет!!!! хоть что-нить.... (c) MechMad Spirit

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