Down below, the old woman was cooking a stew8 for her dinner, now and then grumbling9 to herself that the Count of Luzau–Rischenheim was so long away, and Bauer, the rascal10, drunk in some pot-house. The kitchen door stood open, and through it could be seen the girl Rosa, busily scrubbing the tiled floor; her color was high and her eyes bright; from time to time she paused in her task, and, raising her head, seemed to listen. The time at which the king needed her was past, but the king had not come. How little the old woman knew for whom she listened! All her talk had been of Bauer — why Bauer did not come and what could have befallen him. It was grand to hold the king’s secret for him, and she would hold it with her life; for he had been kind and gracious to her, and he was her man of all the men in Strelsau. Bauer was a stumpy fellow; the Count of Hentzau was handsome, handsome as the devil; but the king was her man. And the king had trusted her; she would die before hurt should come to him.
There were wheels in the street — quick-rolling wheels. They seemed to stop a few doors away, then to roll on again past the house. The girl’s head was raised; the old woman, engrossed11 in her stewing12, took no heed13. The girl’s straining ear caught a rapid step outside. Then it came — the knock, the sharp knock followed by five light ones. The old woman heard now: dropping her spoon into the pot, she lifted the mess off the fire and turned round, saying: “There’s the rogue14 at last! Open the door for him, Rosa.”
Before she spoke15 Rosa had darted16 down the passage. The door opened and shut again. The old woman waddled17 to the threshold of the kitchen. The passage and the shop were dark behind the closed shutters18, but the figure by the girl’s side was taller than Bauer’s.
“Who’s there?” cried Mother Holf sharply. “The shop’s shut today: you can’t come in.”
“But I am in,” came the answer, and Rudolf stepped towards her. The girl followed a pace behind, her hands clasped and her eyes alight with excitement. “Don’t you know me?” asked Rudolf, standing opposite the old woman and smiling down on her.
There, in the dim light of the low-roofed passage, Mother Holf was fairly puzzled. She knew the story of Mr. Rassendyll; she knew that he was again in Ruritania, it was no surprise to her that he should be in Strelsau; but she did not know that Rupert had killed the king, and she had not seen the king close at hand since his illness and his beard impaired19 what had been a perfect likeness20. In fine, she could not tell whether it were indeed the king who spoke to her or his counterfeit21.
“Who are you?” she asked, curt22 and blunt in her confusion. The girl broke in with an amused laugh.
“Why, it’s the —” She paused. Perhaps the king’s identity was a secret.
Rudolf nodded to her. “Tell her who I am,” said he.
“Why, mother, it’s the king,” whispered Rosa, laughing and blushing. “The king, mother.”
“Ay, if the king’s alive, I’m the king,” said Rudolf. I suppose he wanted to find out how much the old woman knew.
She made no answer, but stared up at his face. In her bewilderment she forgot to ask how he had learnt the signal that gained him admission.
“I’ve come to see the Count of Hentzau,” Rudolf continued. “Take me to him at once.”
The old woman was across his path in a moment, all defiant23, arms akimbo.
“Nobody can see the count. He’s not here,” she blurted24 out.
“What, can’t the king see him? Not even the king?”
“King!” she cried, peering at him. “Are you the king?”
Rosa burst out laughing.
“Mother, you must have seen the king a hundred times,” she laughed.
“The king, or his ghost — what does it matter?” said Rudolf lightly.
The old woman drew back with an appearance of sudden alarm.
“His ghost? Is he?”
“His ghost!” rang out in the girl’s merry laugh. “Why, here’s the king himself, mother. You don’t look much like a ghost, sir.”
Mother Holf’s face was livid now, and her eyes staring fixedly25. Perhaps it shot into her brain that something had happened to the king, and that this man had come because of it — this man who was indeed the image, and might have been the spirit, of the king. She leant against the door post, her broad bosom26 heaving under her scanty27 stuff gown. Yet still — was it not the king?
“God help us!” she muttered in fear and bewilderment.
“He helps us, never fear,” said Rudolf Rassendyll. “Where is Count Rupert?”
The girl had caught alarm from her mother’s agitation28. “He’s upstairs in the attic29 at the top of the house, sir,” she whispered in frightened tones, with a glance that fled from her mother’s terrified face to Rudolf’s set eyes and steady smile.
What she said was enough for him. He slipped by the old woman and began to mount the stairs.
The two watched him, Mother Holf as though fascinated, the girl alarmed but still triumphant30: she had done what the king bade her. Rudolf turned the corner of the first landing and disappeared from their sight. The old woman, swearing and muttering, stumbled back into her kitchen, set her stew on the fire, and began to stir it, her eyes set on the flames and careless of the pot. The girl watched her mother for a moment, wondering how she could think of the stew, not guessing that she turned the spoon without a thought of what she did; then she began to crawl, quickly but noiselessly, up the staircase in the track of Rudolf Rassendyll. She looked back once: the old woman stirred with a monotonous31 circular movement of her fat arm. Rosa, bent32 half-double, skimmed upstairs, till she came in sight of the king whom she was so proud to serve. He was on the top landing now, outside the door of a large attic where Rupert of Hentzau was lodged33. She saw him lay his hand on the latch34 of the door; his other hand rested in the pocket of his coat. From the room no sound came; Rupert may have heard the step outside and stood motionless to listen. Rudolf opened the door and walked in. The girl darted breathlessly up the remaining steps, and, coming to the door, just as it swung back on the latch, crouched35 down by it, listening to what passed within, catching36 glimpses of forms and movements through the chinks of the crazy hinge and the crevices37 where the wood of the panel sprung and left a narrow eye hole for her absorbed gazing.
Rupert of Hentzau had no thought of ghosts; the men he killed lay still where they fell, and slept where they were buried. And he had no wonder at the sight of Rudolf Rassendyll. It told him no more than that Rischenheim’s errand had fallen out ill, at which he was not surprised, and that his old enemy was again in his path, at which (as I verily believe) he was more glad than sorry. As Rudolf entered, he had been half-way between window and table; he came forward to the table now, and stood leaning the points of two fingers on the unpolished dirty-white deal.
“Ah, the play-actor!” said he, with a gleam of his teeth and a toss of his curls, while his second hand, like Mr. Rassendyll’s, rested in the pocket of his coat.
Mr. Rassendyll himself has confessed that in old days it went against the grain with him when Rupert called him a play-actor. He was a little older now, and his temper more difficult to stir.
“Yes, the play-actor,” he answered, smiling. “With a shorter part this time, though.”
“What part today? Isn’t it the old one, the king with a pasteboard crown?” asked Rupert, sitting down on the table. “Faith, we shall do handsomely in Ruritania: you have a pasteboard crown, and I (humble man though I am) have given the other one a heavenly crown. What a brave show! But perhaps I tell you news?”
“No, I know what you’ve done.”
“I take no credit. It was more the dog’s doing than mine,” said Rupert carelessly. “However, there it is, and dead he is, and there’s an end of it. What’s your business, play-actor?”
At the repetition of this last word, to her so mysterious, the girl outside pressed her eyes more eagerly to the chink and strained her ears to listen more sedulously39. And what did the count mean by the “other one” and “a heavenly crown”?
“Why not call me king?” asked Rudolf.
“They call you that in Strelsau?”
“Those that know I’m here.”
“And they are —?”
“Some few score.”
“And thus,” said Rupert, waving an arm towards the window, “the town is quiet and the flags fly?”
“You’ve been waiting to see them lowered?”
“A man likes to have some notice taken of what he has done,” Rupert complained. “However, I can get them lowered when I will.”
“By telling your news? Would that be good for yourself?”
“Forgive me — not that way. Since the king has two lives, it is but in nature that he should have two deaths.”
“And when he has undergone the second?”
“I shall live at peace, my friend, on a certain source of income that I possess.” He tapped his breast-pocket with a slight, defiant laugh. “In these days,” said he, “even queens must be careful about their letters. We live in moral times.”
“You don’t share the responsibility for it,” said Rudolf, smiling.
“I make my little protest. But what’s your business, play-actor? For I think you’re rather tiresome41.”
Rudolf grew grave. He advanced towards the table, and spoke in low, serious tones.
“My lord, you’re alone in this matter now. Rischenheim is a prisoner; your rogue Bauer I encountered last night and broke his head.”
“Ah, you did?”
“You have what you know of in your hands. If you yield, on my honor I will save your life.”
“You don’t desire my blood, then, most forgiving play-actor?”
“So much, that I daren’t fail to offer you life,” answered Rudolf Rassendyll. “Come, sir, your plan has failed: give up the letter.”
Rupert looked at him thoughtfully.
“You’ll see me safe off if I give it you?” he asked.
“I’ll prevent your death. Yes, and I’ll see you safe.”
“Where to?”
“To a fortress42, where a trustworthy gentleman will guard you.”
“For how long, my dear friend?”
“I hope for many years, my dear Count.”
“In fact, I suppose, as long as —?”
“Heaven leaves you to the world, Count. It’s impossible to set you free.”
“That’s the offer, then?”
“The extreme limit of indulgence,” answered Rudolf. Rupert burst into a laugh, half of defiance43, yet touched with the ring of true amusement. Then he lit a cigarette and sat puffing44 and smiling.
“I should wrong you by straining your kindness so far,” said he; and in wanton insolence45, seeking again to show Mr. Rassendyll the mean esteem46 in which he held him, and the weariness his presence was, he raised his arms and stretched them above his head, as a man does in the fatigue47 of tedium48. “Heigho!” he yawned.
But he had overshot the mark this time. With a sudden swift bound Rudolf was upon him; his hands gripped Rupert’s wrists, and with his greater strength he bent back the count’s pliant49 body till trunk and head lay flat on the table. Neither man spoke; their eyes met; each heard the other’s breathing and felt the vapor50 of it on his face. The girl outside had seen the movement of Rudolf’s figure, but her cranny did not serve her to show her the two where they were now; she knelt on her knees in ignorant suspense51. Slowly and with a patient force Rudolf began to work his enemy’s arms towards one another. Rupert had read his design in his eyes and resisted with tense muscles. It seemed as though his arms must crack; but at last they moved. Inch by inch they were driven closer; now the elbows almost touched; now the wrists joined in reluctant contact. The sweat broke out on the count’s brow, and stood in large drops on Rudolf’s. Now the wrists were side by side, and slowly the long sinewy52 fingers of Rudolf’s right hand, that held one wrist already in their vise, began to creep round the other. The grip seemed to have half numbed53 Rupert’s arms, and his struggles grew fainter. Round both wrists the sinewy fingers climbed and coiled; gradually and timidly the grasp of the other hand was relaxed and withdrawn54. Would the one hold both? With a great spasm55 of effort Rupert put it to the proof.
The smile that bent Mr. Rassendyll’s lips gave the answer. He could hold both, with one hand he could hold both: not for long, no, but for an instant. And then, in the instant, his left hand, free at last, shot to the breast of the count’s coat. It was the same that he had worn at the hunting-lodge, and was ragged56 and torn from the boar-hound’s teeth. Rudolf tore it further open, and his hand dashed in.
“God’s curse on you!” snarled57 Rupert of Hentzau.
But Mr. Rassendyll still smiled. Then he drew out a letter. A glance at it showed him the queen’s seal. As he glanced Rupert made another effort. The one hand, wearied out, gave way, and Mr. Rassendyll had no more than time to spring away, holding his prize. The next moment he had his revolver in his hand — none too soon, for Rupert of Hentzau’s barrel faced him, and they stood thus, opposite to one another, with no more than three or four feet between the mouths of their weapons.
There is, indeed, much that may be said against Rupert of Hentzau, the truth about him well-nigh forbidding that charity of judgment58 which we are taught to observe towards all men. But neither I nor any man who knew him ever found in him a shrinking from danger or a fear of death. It was no feeling such as these, but rather a cool calculation of chances, that now stayed his hand. Even if he were victorious59 in the duel60, and both did not die, yet the noise of the firearms would greatly decrease his chances of escape. Moreover, he was a noted61 swordsman, and conceived that he was Mr. Rassendyll’s superior in that exercise. The steel offered him at once a better prospect62 for victory and more hope of a safe fight. So he did not pull his trigger, but, maintaining his aim the while, said:
“I’m not a street bully63, and I don’t excel in a rough-and-tumble. Will you fight now like a gentleman? There’s a pair of blades in the case yonder.”
Mr. Rassendyll, in his turn, was keenly alive to the peril64 that still hung over the queen. To kill Rupert would not save her if he himself also were shot and left dead, or so helpless that he could not destroy the letter; and while Rupert’s revolver was at his heart he could not tear it up nor reach the fire that burnt on the other side of the room. Nor did he fear the result of a trial with steel, for he had kept himself in practice and improved his skill since the days when he came first to Strelsau.
“As you will,” said he. “Provided we settle the matter here and now, the manner is the same to me.”
“Put your revolver on the table, then, and I’ll lay mine by the side of it.”
“I beg your pardon,” smiled Rudolf, “but you must lay yours down first.”
“I’m to trust you, it seems, but you won’t trust me!”
“Precisely. You know you can trust me; you know that I can’t trust you.”
A sudden flush swept over Rupert of Hentzau’s face. There were moments when he saw, in the mirror of another’s face or words, the estimation in which honorable men held him; and I believe that he hated Mr. Rassendyll most fiercely, not for thwarting65 his enterprise, but because he had more power than any other man to show him that picture. His brows knit in a frown, and his lips shut tight.
“Ay, but though you won’t fire, you’ll destroy the letter,” he sneered66. “I know your fine distinctions.”
“Again I beg your pardon. You know very well that, although all Strelsau were at the door, I wouldn’t touch the letter.”
With an angry muttered oath Rupert flung his revolver on the table. Rudolf came forward and laid his by it. Then he took up both, and, crossing to the mantelpiece, laid them there; between there he placed the queen’s letter. A bright blaze burnt in the grate; it needed but the slightest motion of his hand to set the letter beyond all danger. But he placed it carefully on the mantelpiece, and, with a slight smile on his face, turned to Rupert, saying: “Now shall we resume the bout40 that Fritz von Tarlenheim interrupted in the forest of Zenda?”
All this while they had been speaking in subdued67 accents, resolution in one, anger in the other, keeping the voice in an even, deliberate lowness. The girl outside caught only a word here and there; but now suddenly the flash of steel gleamed on her eyes through the crevice38 of the hinge. She gave a sudden gasp68, and, pressing her face closer to the opening, listened and looked. For Rupert of Hentzau had taken the swords from their case and put them on the table. With a slight bow Rudolf took one, and the two assumed their positions. Suddenly Rupert lowered his point. The frown vanished from his face, and he spoke in his usual bantering69 tone.
“By the way,” said he, “perhaps we’re letting our feelings run away with us. Have you more of a mind now to be King of Ruritania? If so, I’m ready to be the most faithful of your subjects.”
“You honor me, Count.”
“Provided, of course, that I’m one of the most favored and the richest. Come, come, the fool is dead now; he lived like a fool and he died like a fool. The place is empty. A dead man has no rights and suffers no wrongs. Damn it, that’s good law, isn’t it? Take his place and his wife. You can pay my price then. Or are you still so virtuous70? Faith, how little some men learn from the world they live in! If I had your chance!”
“Come, Count, you’d be the last man to trust Rupert of Hentzau.”
“If I made it worth his while?”
“But he’s a man who would take the pay and betray his associate.”
Again Rupert flushed. When he next spoke his voice was hard, cold, and low.
“By God, Rudolf Rassendyll,” said he, “I’ll kill you here and now.”
“I ask no better than that you should try.”
“And then I’ll proclaim that woman for what she is in all Strelsau.” A smile came on his lips as he watched Rudolf’s face.
“Guard yourself, my lord,” said Mr. Rassendyll.
“Ay, for no better than — There, man, I’m ready for you.” For Rudolf’s blade had touched his in warning.
The steel jangled. The girl’s pale face was at the crevice of the hinge. She heard the blades cross again and again. Then one would run up the other with a sharp, grating slither. At times she caught a glimpse of a figure in quick forward lunge or rapid wary71 withdrawal72. Her brain was almost paralyzed.
Ignorant of the mind and heart of young Rupert, she could not conceive that he tried to kill the king. Yet the words she had caught sounded like the words of men quarreling, and she could not persuade herself that the gentlemen fenced only for pastime. They were not speaking now; but she heard their hard breathing and the movement of their unresting feet on the bare boards of the floor. Then a cry rang out, clear and merry with the fierce hope of triumph: “Nearly! nearly!”
She knew the voice for Rupert of Hentzau’s, and it was the king who answered calmly, “Nearly isn’t quite.”
Again she listened. They seemed to have paused for a moment, for there was no sound, save of the hard breathing and deep-drawn pants of men who rest an instant in the midst of intense exertion73. Then came again the clash and the slitherings; and one of them crossed into her view. She knew the tall figure and she saw the red hair: it was the king. Backward step by step he seemed to be driven, coming nearer and nearer to the door. At last there was no more than a foot between him and her; only the crazy panel prevented her putting out her hand to touch him. Again the voice of Rupert rang out in rich exultation74, “I have you now! Say your prayers, King Rudolf!”
“Say your prayers!” Then they fought. It was earnest, not play. And it was the king — her king — her dear king, who was in great peril of his life. For an instant she knelt, still watching. Then with a low cry of terror she turned and ran headlong down the steep stairs. Her mind could not tell what to do, but her heart cried out that she must do something for her king. Reaching the ground floor, she ran with wide-open eyes into the kitchen. The stew was on the hob, the old woman still held the spoon, but she had ceased to stir and fallen into a chair.
“He’s killing75 the king! He’s killing the king!” cried Rosa, seizing her mother by the arm. “Mother, what shall we do? He’s killing the king!”
The old woman looked up with dull eyes and a stupid, cunning smile.
“Let them alone,” she said. “There’s no king here.”
“Yes, yes. He’s upstairs in the count’s room. They’re fighting, he and the Count of Hentzau. Mother, Count Rupert will kill —”
“Let them alone. He the king? He’s no king,” muttered the old woman again.
For an instant Rosa stood looking down on her in helpless despair. Then a light flashed into her eyes.
“I must call for help,” she cried.
The old woman seemed to spring to sudden life. She jumped up and caught her daughter by the shoulder.
“No, no,” she whispered in quick accents. “You — you don’t know. Let them alone, you fool! It’s not our business. Let them alone.”
“Let me go, mother, let me go! Mother, I must help the king!”
“I’ll not let you go,” said Mother Holf.
But Rosa was young and strong; her heart was fired with terror for the king’s danger.
“I must go,” she cried; and she flung her mother’s grasp off from her so that the old woman was thrown back into her chair, and the spoon fell from her hand and clattered76 on the tiles. But Rosa turned and fled down the passage and through the shop. The bolts delayed her trembling fingers for an instant. Then she flung the door wide. A new amazement77 filled her eyes at the sight of the eager crowd before the house. Then her eyes fell on me where I stood between the lieutenant78 and Rischenheim, and she uttered her wild cry, “Help! The king!”
With one bound I was by her side and in the house, while Bernenstein cried, “Quicker!” from behind.
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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repent
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| v.悔悟，悔改，忏悔，后悔 | |
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momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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stew
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| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
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grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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engrossed
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| adj.全神贯注的 | |
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stewing
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| 炖 | |
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heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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rogue
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| n.流氓；v.游手好闲 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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waddled
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| v.（像鸭子一样）摇摇摆摆地走( waddle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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impaired
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| adj.受损的；出毛病的；有（身体或智力）缺陷的v.损害，削弱( impair的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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counterfeit
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| vt.伪造，仿造；adj.伪造的，假冒的 | |
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curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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blurted
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fixedly
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bosom
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scanty
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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latch
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| n.门闩，窗闩；弹簧锁 | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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crevices
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| n.（尤指岩石的）裂缝，缺口( crevice的名词复数 ) | |
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crevice
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| n.(岩石、墙等)裂缝；缺口 | |
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sedulously
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| ad.孜孜不倦地 | |
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bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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esteem
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| n.尊敬，尊重；vt.尊重，敬重；把…看作 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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tedium
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| n.单调；烦闷 | |
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pliant
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| adj.顺从的；可弯曲的 | |
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vapor
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| n.蒸汽，雾气 | |
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suspense
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| n.（对可能发生的事）紧张感，担心，挂虑 | |
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sinewy
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| adj.多腱的，强壮有力的 | |
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numbed
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| v.使麻木，使麻痹( numb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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victorious
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| adj.胜利的，得胜的 | |
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duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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thwarting
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| 阻挠( thwart的现在分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
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sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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bantering
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| adj.嘲弄的v.开玩笑，说笑，逗乐( banter的现在分词 )；（善意地）取笑，逗弄 | |
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virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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withdrawal
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| n.取回，提款；撤退，撤军；收回，撤销 | |
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exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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clattered
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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