It was a still and sultry night; the magnificent suite1 of rooms, vast as some of them were, could not be kept at a temperature less than oppressive, especially to people with masks on. In some places the crowd was inconvenient2, and the profusion3 of lights added to the heat. I removed my mask, therefore, as I saw some other people do, who were as careless of mystery as I. I had hardly done so, and began to breathe more comfortably, when I heard a friendly English voice call me by my name. It was Tom Whistlewick, of the — th Dragoons. He had unmasked, with a very flushed face, as I did. He was one of those Waterloo heroes, new from the mint of glory, whom, as a body, all the world, except France, revered4; and the only thing I knew against him, was a habit of allaying5 his thirst, which was excessive at balls, fêtes, musical parties, and all gatherings6, where it was to be had, with champagne7; and, as he introduced me to his friend, Monsieur Carmaignac, I observed that he spoke8 a little thick. Monsieur Carmaignac was little, lean, and as straight as a ramrod. He was bald, took snuff, and wore spectacles; and, as I soon learned, held an official position.
Tom was facetious9, sly, and rather difficult to understand, in his present pleasant mood. He was elevating his eyebrows10 and screwing his lips oddly, and fanning himself vaguely11 with his mask.
After some agreeable conversation I was glad to observe that he preferred silence, and was satisfied with the r?le of listener, as I and Monsieur Carmaignac chatted; and he seated himself, with extraordinary caution and indecision, upon a bench, beside us, and seemed very soon to find a difficulty in keeping his eyes open.
“I heard you mention,” said the French gentleman, “that you had engaged an apartment in the Dragon Volant, about half a league from this. When I was in a different police department, about four years ago, two very strange cases were connected with that house. One was of a wealthy émigré, permitted to return to France by the Em — by Napoleon. He vanished. The other — equally strange — was the case of a Russian of rank and wealth. He disappeared just as mysteriously.”
“My servant,” I said, “gave me a confused account of some occurrences, and, as well as I recollect12, he described the same persons — I mean a returned French nobleman and a Russian gentleman. But he made the whole story so marvelous — I mean in the supernatural sense — that, I confess, I did not believe a word of it.”
“No, there was nothing supernatural; but a great deal inexplicable,” said the French gentleman. “Of course, there may be theories; but the thing was never explained, nor, so far as I know, was a ray of light ever thrown upon it.”
“Pray let me hear the story,” I said. “I think I have a claim, as it affects my quarters. You don’t suspect the people of the house?”
“Oh! it has changed hands since then. But there seemed to be a fatality13 about a particular room.”
“Could you describe that room?”
“Certainly. It is a spacious14, paneled bedroom, up one pair of stairs, in the back of the house, and at the extreme right, as you look from its windows.”
“Ho! Really? Why, then, I have got the very room!” I said, beginning to be more interested — perhaps the least bit in the world, disagreeably. “Did the people die, or were they actually spirited away?”
“No, they did not die — they disappeared very oddly. I’ll tell you the particulars — I happen to know them exactly, because I made an official visit, on the first occasion, to the house, to collect evidence; and although I did not go down there, upon the second, the papers came before me, and I dictated15 the official letter dispatched to the relations of the people who had disappeared; they had applied16 to the government to investigate the affair. We had letters from the same relations more than two years later, from which we learned that the missing men had never turned up.”
He took a pinch of snuff, and looked steadily17 at me.
“Never! I shall relate all that happened, so far as we could discover. The French noble, who was the Chevalier Chateau18 Blassemare, unlike most émigrés had taken the matter in time, sold a large portion of his property before the revolution had proceeded so far as to render that next to impossible, and retired19 with a large sum. He brought with him about half a million of francs, the greater part of which he invested in the French funds; a much larger sum remained in Austrian land and securities. You will observe then that this gentleman was rich, and there was no allegation of his having lost money, or being in any way embarrassed. You see?”
I assented20.
“This gentleman’s habits were not expensive in proportion to his means. He had suitable lodgings21 in Paris; and for a time, society, and theaters, and other reasonable amusements, engrossed22 him. He did not play. He was a middleaged man, affecting youth, with the vanities which are usual in such persons; but, for the rest, he was a gentle and polite person, who disturbed nobody — a person, you see, not likely to provoke an enmity.”
“Certainly not,” I agreed.
“Early in the summer of 1811 he got an order permitting him to copy a picture in one of these salons23, and came down here, to Versailles, for the purpose. His work was getting on slowly. After a time he left his hotel here, and went, by way of change, to the Dragon Volant; there he took, by special choice, the bedroom which has fallen to you by chance. From this time, it appeared, he painted little; and seldom visited his apartments in Paris. One night he saw the host of the Dragon Volant, and told him that he was going into Paris, to remain for a day or two, on very particular business; that his servant would accompany him, but that he would retain his apartments at the Dragon Volant, and return in a few days. He left some clothes there, but packed a portmanteau, took his dressing24 case and the rest, and, with his servant behind his carriage, drove into Paris. You observe all this, Monsieur?”
“Most attentively,” I answered.
“Well, Monsieur, as soon as they were approaching his lodgings, he stopped the carriage on a sudden, told his servant that he had changed his mind; that he would sleep elsewhere that night, that he had very particular business in the north of France, not far from Rouen, that he would set out before daylight on his journey, and return in a fortnight. He called a fiacre, took in his hand a leather bag which, the servant said, was just large enough to hold a few shirts and a coat, but that it was enormously heavy, as he could testify, for he held it in his hand, while his master took out his purse to count thirty-six Napoleons, for which the servant was to account when he should return. He then sent him on, in the carriage; and he, with the bag I have mentioned, got into the fiacre. Up to that, you see, the narrative25 is quite clear.”
“Perfectly26,” I agreed.
“Now comes the mystery,” said Monsieur Carmaignac. “After that, the Count Chateau Blassemare was never more seen, so far as we can make out, by acquaintance or friend. We learned that the day before the Count’s stockbroker27 had, by his direction, sold all his stock in the French funds, and handed him the cash it realized. The reason he gave him for this measure tallied28 with what he said to his servant. He told him that he was going to the north of France to settle some claims, and did not know exactly how much might be required. The bag, which had puzzled the servant by its weight, contained, no doubt, a large sum in gold. Will Monsieur try my snuff?”
He politely tendered his open snuff-box, of which I partook, experimentally.
“A reward was offered,” he continued, “when the inquiry29 was instituted, for any information tending to throw a light upon the mystery, which might be afforded by the driver of the fiacre ‘employed on the night of’ (so-and-so), ‘at about the hour of half-past ten, by a gentleman, with a black-leather bag-bag in his hand, who descended30 from a private carriage, and gave his servant some money, which he counted twice over.’ About a hundred-and-fifty drivers applied, but not one of them was the right man. We did, however, elicit31 a curious and unexpected piece of evidence in quite another quarter. What a racket that plaguey harlequin makes with his sword!”
“Intolerable!” I chimed in.
The harlequin was soon gone, and he resumed.
“The evidence I speak of came from a boy, about twelve years old, who knew the appearance of the Count perfectly, having been often employed by him as a messenger. He stated that about half-past twelve o’clock, on the same night — upon which you are to observe, there was a brilliant moon — he was sent, his mother having been suddenly taken ill, for the sage32 femme who lived within a stone’s throw of the Dragon Volant. His father’s house, from which he started, was a mile away, or more, from that inn, in order to reach which he had to pass round the park of the Chéteau de la Carque, at the site most remote from the point to which he was going. It passes the old churchyard of St. Aubin, which is separated from the road only by a very low fence, and two or three enormous old trees. The boy was a little nervous as he approached this ancient cemetery33; and, under the bright moonlight, he saw a man whom he distinctly recognized as the Count, whom they designated by a sobriquet34 which means ‘the man of smiles.’ He was looking rueful enough now, and was seated on the side of a tombstone, on which he had laid a pistol, while he was ramming35 home the charge of another.
“The boy got cautiously by, on tiptoe, with his eyes all the time on the Count Chateau Blassernare, or the man he mistook for him — his dress was not what he usually wore, but the witness swore that he could not be mistaken as to his identity. He said his face looked grave and stern; but though he did not smile, it was the same face he knew so well. Nothing would make him swerve36 from that. If that were he, it was the last time he was seen. He has never been heard of since. Nothing could be heard of him in the neighborhood of Rouen. There has been no evidence of his death; and there is no sign that he is living.”
“That certainly is a most singular case,” I replied, and was about to ask a question or two, when Tom Whistlewick who, without my observing it, had been taking a ramble37, returned, a great deal more awake, and a great deal less tipsy.
“I say, Carmaignac, it is getting late, and I must go; I really must, for the reason I told you — and, Beckett, we must soon meet again.”
“I regret very much, Monsieur, my not being able at present to relate to you the other case, that of another tenant38 of the very same room — a case more mysterious and sinister39 than the last — and which occurred in the autumn of the same year.”
“Will you both do a very good-natured thing, and come and dine with me at the Dragon Volant tomorrow?”
So, as we pursued our way along the Galerie des Glaces, I extracted their promise.
“By Jove!” said Whistlewick, when this was done; “look at that pagoda40, or sedan chair, or whatever it is, just where those fellows set it down, and not one of them near it! I can’t imagine how they tell fortunes so devilish well. Jack41 Nuffles — I met him here tonight — says they are gypsies — where are they, I wonder? I’ll go over and have a peep at the prophet.”
I saw him plucking at the blinds, which were constructed something on the principle of Venetian blinds; the red curtains were inside; but they did not yield, and he could only peep under one that did not come quite down.
When he rejoined us, he related: “I could scarcely see the old fellow, it’s so dark. He is covered with gold and red, and has an embroidered42 hat on like a mandarin’s; he’s fast asleep; and, by Jove, he smells like a polecat! It’s worth going over only to have it to say. Fiew! pooh! oh! It is a perfume. Faugh!”
Not caring to accept this tempting43 invitation, we got along slowly toward the door. I bade them good-night, reminding them of their promise. And so found my way at last to my carriage; and was soon rolling slowly toward the Dragon Volant, on the loneliest of roads, under old trees, and the soft moonlight.
What a number of things had happened within the last two hours! what a variety of strange and vivid pictures were crowded together in that brief space! What an adventure was before me!
The silent, moonlighted, solitary44 road, how it contrasted with the many-eddied whirl of pleasure from whose roar and music, lights, diamonds and colors I had just extricated45 myself.
The sight of lonely nature at such an hour, acts like a sudden sedative46. The madness and guilt47 of my pursuit struck me with a momentary48 compunction and horror. I wished I had never entered the labyrinth49 which was leading me, I knew not whither. It was too late to think of that now; but the bitter was already stealing into my cup; and vague anticipations50 lay, for a few minutes, heavy on my heart. It would not have taken much to make me disclose my unmanly state of mind to my lively friend Alfred Ogle51, nor even to the milder ridicule52 of the agreeable Tom Whistlewick.
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1
suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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2
inconvenient
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| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
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3
profusion
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| n.挥霍；丰富 | |
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4
revered
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| v.崇敬，尊崇，敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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5
allaying
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| v.减轻，缓和( allay的现在分词 ) | |
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6
gatherings
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| 聚集( gathering的名词复数 )； 收集； 采集； 搜集 | |
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7
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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8
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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9
facetious
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| adj.轻浮的，好开玩笑的 | |
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10
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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11
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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12
recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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13
fatality
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| n.不幸，灾祸，天命 | |
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14
spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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15
dictated
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的过去式和过去分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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16
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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17
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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18
chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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19
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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20
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lodgings
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| n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
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engrossed
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| adj.全神贯注的 | |
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salons
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| n.（营业性质的）店( salon的名词复数 )；厅；沙龙（旧时在上流社会女主人家的例行聚会或聚会场所）；（大宅中的）客厅 | |
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24
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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25
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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26
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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27
stockbroker
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| n.股票（或证券），经纪人（或机构） | |
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28
tallied
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| v.计算，清点( tally的过去式和过去分词 )；加标签（或标记）于；（使）符合；（使）吻合 | |
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29
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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30
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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31
elicit
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| v.引出,抽出,引起 | |
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32
sage
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| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
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33
cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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34
sobriquet
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| n.绰号 | |
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35
ramming
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| n.打结炉底v.夯实（土等）( ram的现在分词 )；猛撞；猛压；反复灌输 | |
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36
swerve
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| v.突然转向，背离；n．转向，弯曲，背离 | |
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37
ramble
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| v.漫步，漫谈，漫游；n.漫步，闲谈，蔓延 | |
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38
tenant
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| n.承租人；房客；佃户；v.租借，租用 | |
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39
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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40
pagoda
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| n.宝塔（尤指印度和远东的多层宝塔），（印度教或佛教的）塔式庙宇 | |
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41
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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42
embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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43
tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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44
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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45
extricated
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| v.使摆脱困难，脱身( extricate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
sedative
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| adj.使安静的，使镇静的；n. 镇静剂，能使安静的东西 | |
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47
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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48
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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49
labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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50
anticipations
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| 预期( anticipation的名词复数 )； 预测； （信托财产收益的）预支； 预期的事物 | |
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51
ogle
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| v.看；送秋波；n.秋波，媚眼 | |
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52
ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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