Rebecca

(extract)

Daphne Du Maurier

(Great Britain)

Learn the following words, word combinations and notes. Read and translate the text. Try to give the title to the text.

Vocabulary

• an unpainted face

• an ill-fitting coat

• a jumper of my own creation

• to trail behind sb

• to make a reduction of the bill

• to run suspiciously (about eyes)

• to contradict sb

• to sense sb’s position

• to produce great appetite

• to get over sb’s death

• to scent danger

• to employ sb as a bait

• an errand

• the means of introduction

• to play a part in sb’s intrigues

• to warn sb of the ambush

• to include sb in the conversation

• to lose the thread of conversation

• to help sb out

• to make a link between sb

• to accept as a joke

• to search for an excuse

Notes

Cote d’Azur ['kotdΛ'zur] – Лазурный Берег, Юго-Восточная часть Франции, побережье Средиземного моря, где расположен курорт Ницца

Monte Carlo – столица Монако, небольшое государство, находящееся под юрисдикцией Франции

a page-boy – рассыльный (мальчик на побегушках)

a suite – номер люкс в гостинице

a pigeon-hole – отделение для бумаг в секретере

Don’t let me keep you – не смею Вас задерживать

... the course of my existence hung like a thread upon that quality of hers – моя жизнь висела на волоске и зависела от этого её качества

… her only pastime was to claim visitors of distinction as her friends – её единственным время препровождением было набиваться в друзья известным гостям

Maitre d’hotel – метрдотель, главный официант, распорядитель в ресторане

All this I decided in my dream, because like most sleepers I knew that I dreamed. In reality I lay many hundred miles away in a distant land, and was to wake up soon in an empty little hotel room. I would sigh and stretch myself for a moment, and opening my eyes would be surprised by the shining sun and the blue sky, so different from the soft moonlight of my dream. The day would lie before both of us, long and dull, but filled with a certain tranquility we had not known before. We would not talk of Manderley, I would not tell him my dream. For Manderley was no longer ours. Manderley no longer existed.

…

Coming back to the past I see myself a shy girl of nineteen with straight, short hair and youthful, unpainted face, dressed in an ill-fitting coat and shirt and a jumper of my own creation, trailing behind Mrs. Van Hopper like a little horse. She would go to her usual table in the corner of the restaurant, close to the window, and lifting her lorgnette to her small pig's eyes observe the scene to the right and left of her, and utter exclamations of displeasure: "Not a single well-known personality! I shall tell the manager they must make a reduction on my bill. What do they think I come here for? To look at the page-boys?" And with a sharp, staccato voice, cutting the air like a saw, she would call the waiter.

How different is the little restaurant where we are today from that vast dining-room in the Hotel "Cote d'Azur" at Monte Carlo; and how different is my present companion, peeling a tangerine with well-shaped hands and from time to time smiling at me, compared to Mrs. Van Hopper with her eyes running suspiciously from her plate to mine for fear I made the better choice. She did not have to worry, however, for the waiter had long ago sensed my position as inferior and placed before me a plate of cold meat that somebody had sent back half an hour before as badly cut.

I remember well that plate of meat. It was dry and unappetizing, but I had no courage to refuse it. We ate in silence, for Mrs. Van Hopper liked to concentrate on food, and I could tell by the way the sauce ran down her chin that the ravioli pleased her.

It was not the sight that produced in me great appetite, and looking away from her I saw that the table next to ours which had been vacant for three days, was going to be occupied again. The maitre d'hotel, with the particular bow reserved for his most special clients, was showing the new guest to his place.

Mrs. Van Hopper put down her fork, and took her lorgnette. She stared at the new-comer for some time and then leant across the table to me, her small eyes bright with excitement, her voice too loud.

"It's Max de Winter", she said, "the man who owns Manderley. You've heard of it, of course. He looks ill, doesn't he? I heard he can't get over his wife's death..."

…

I wonder what my life would be today, if Mrs. Van Hopper had not been a snob. Funny to think that the course of my existence hung like a thread upon that quality of hers. Her curiosity was a disease, almost a mania. For many years she had come to the Hotel "Cote d'Azur", and, besides bridge, her only pastime was to claim visitors of distinction as her friends even if she had seen them once at the other end of the post-office. Somehow she managed to introduce herself, and before her victim had scented danger she had sent an invitation to her suite. Her method of attack was so direct and sudden that there was seldom opportunity to escape. Sometimes she would employ me as a bait, and, hating my errand, I would go across the hall to these people with some message, a book or paper, the address of some shop or other, the sudden discovery of a mutual friend.

I can see as though it were yesterday that unforgettable afternoon when she sat on her favourite sofa in the hall thinking over a method of an attack on the new arrival. Suddenly she turned to me, her small eyes shining.

"Go upstairs quickly and find that letter from my nephew. You remember, the one written on his honeymoon, with the photos. Bring it down to me right away."

I saw then that her plans were formed, and the nephew was to be the means of introduction. Not for the first time I resented the part that I had to play in her intrigues. I found the letter in a pigeon-hole in her desk, and hesitated a moment before going down again to the hall. It seemed to me that I was allowing him a few more moments to avoid her attack. I wanted to warn him of the ambush but I did not know how to do it. There was nothing for me to do but to sit in my usual place beside Mrs. Van Hopper while she, like a large spider, spun her wide net about the stranger.

I had been away longer than I thought, for when I returned to the hall I saw that he had already left the dining-room, and she, afraid of losing him, had not waited for the letter, but risked a straight introduction by herself. He was even sitting beside her on the sofa. I walked across to them, and gave her the letter without a word. He rose to his feet at once, while Mrs. Van Hopper, flushed with her success, waved a hand in my direction and mumbled my name.

"Mr. de Winter is having coffee with us, go and ask the waiter for another cup," she ordered. Her casual tone meant that I was a youthful and unimportant thing, and there was no need to include me in the conversation.

To my surprise, however, this newcomer remained standing on his feet, and it was he who made a signal to the waiter.

"I'm afraid I must contradict you," he said to her, "you are both having coffee with me" and before I understood what had happened he was sitting in my usual hard chair, and I was on the sofa beside Mrs. Van Hopper.

For a moment she looked annoyed – this was not what she had planned – but she soon smiled, and placing her large body between me and the table leant forward to his chair and began to talk fast and loudly, waving the letter that she held in her hand.

For some time they were talking and I had lost the thread of conversation. I saw that he was tired of her chatter and there was a line between his brows. I wanted to help him out but I was too young and too shy. Had I been older I would have caught his eye and smiled to him, making a link between us. But I did not dare to do it.

I think he realized my condition, for he leant to me and asked if I would like more coffee, and when I refused and shook my head I felt his eyes were still on me.

"What do you think of Monte Carlo, or don't you think of it at all?" he said. I did not expect him to include me in the conversation and said something idiotic about the place being artificial, but before I could finish my sentence Mrs. Van Hopper interrupted.

"She's spoilt, Mr. de Winter, that's her trouble. Most girls would give their eyes for the chance of seeing Monte."

"But they won't be able to see it then", he said, smiling.

She shrugged her shoulder, blowing a big cloud of cigarette smoke into the air and went on gossiping about people, not seeing that the names meant nothing to him, and as she chattered he grew colder and more silent. Never for a moment did he interrupt or glance at his watch: it was as though he had decided to be a model of politeness. It was a page-boy in the end who released him with the news that a dress-maker waited for Mrs. Van Hopper in the suite.

He got up at once, pushing back his chair. "Don't let me keep you," he said. "Fashions change so quickly nowadays they may even alter by the time you get upstairs."

She did not understand the sting, she accepted it as a joke. "It's so delightful to have run into you like this, Mr. De Winter," she said, as we went towards the lift; "now when I've been brave enough to break the ice I hope I shall see something of you. You must come and have a drink some time in my suite. I may have one or two people coming in tomorrow evening. Why not join us?" I turned away in order not to watch him search for an excuse.

"I'm so sorry," he said, "tomorrow I am probably driving to Sospel. I'm not sure when I shall get back."

Reluctantly she left it, and we went to the lift.