I had promised to take Mrs. Latham and Irene to see the French plays which were then being acted by Marie Leroux's celebrated2 Palais Royal company. I wasn't at the time exactly engaged to poor Irene: it has always been a comfort to me that I wasn't engaged to her, though I knew Irene herself considered it practically equivalent to an understood engagement. We had known one another intimately from childhood upward, for the Lathams were a sort of second cousins of ours, three times removed: and we had always called one another by our Christian3 names, and been very fond of one another in a simple girlish and boyish fashion as long as we could either of us remember. Still, I maintain, there was no definite understanding between us; and if Mrs. Latham thought I had been paying Irene attentions, she must have known that a young man of two and twenty, with a decent fortune and a nice estate down in Devonshire, was likely to look about him for a while before he thought of settling down and marrying quietly.
I had brought the yacht up to London Bridge, and was living on board in picnic style, and running about town[Pg 2] casually4, when I took Irene and her mother to see "Faustine," at the Ambiguities. As soon as we had got in and taken our places, Irene whispered to me, touching5 my hand lightly with her fan, "Just look at the very dark girl on the other side of you, Harry6! Did you ever in your life see anybody so perfectly7 beautiful?"
It has always been a great comfort to me, too, that Irene herself was the first person to call my attention to Césarine Vivian's extraordinary beauty.
I turned round, as if by accident, and gave a passing glance, where Irene waved her fan, at the girl beside me. She was beautiful, certainly, in a terrible, grand, statuesque style of beauty; and I saw at a glimpse that she had Southern blood in her veins8, perhaps Negro, perhaps Moorish9, perhaps only Spanish, or Italian, or Proven?al. Her features were proud and somewhat Jewish-looking; her eyes large, dark, and haughty10; her black hair waved slightly in sinuous11 undulations as it passed across her high, broad forehead; her complexion12, though a dusky olive in tone, was clear and rich, and daintily transparent13; and her lips were thin and very slightly curled at the delicate corners, with a peculiarly imperious and almost scornful expression of fixed15 disdain16. I had never before beheld17 anywhere such a magnificently repellent specimen18 of womanhood. For a second or so, as I looked, her eyes met mine with a defiant19 inquiry20, and I was conscious that moment of some strange and weird21 fascination22 in her glance that seemed to draw me irresistibly23 towards her, at the same time that I hardly dared to fix my gaze steadily24 upon the piercing eyes that looked through and through me with their keen penetration25.
"She's very beautiful, no doubt," I whispered back to Irene in a low undertone, "though I must confess I don't exactly like the look of her. She's a trifle too much of a tragedy queen for my taste: a Lady Macbeth, or a Beatrice Cenci, or a Clytemnestra. I prefer our simple little English[Pg 3] prettiness to this southern splendour. It's more to our English liking26 than these tall and stately Italian enchantresses. Besides, I fancy the girl looks as if she had a drop or two of black blood somewhere about her."
"Oh, no," Irene cried warmly. "Impossible, Harry. She's exquisite27: exquisite. Italian, you know, or something of that sort. Italian girls have always got that peculiar14 gipsy-like type of beauty."
Low as we spoke28, the girl seemed to know by instinct we were talking about her; for she drew away the ends of her light wrap coldly, in a significant fashion, and turned with her opera-glass in the opposite direction, as if on purpose to avoid looking towards us.
A minute later the curtain rose, and the first act of Halévy's "Faustine" distracted my attention for the moment from the beautiful stranger.
Marie Leroux took the part of the great empress. She was grand, stately, imposing29, no doubt, but somehow it seemed to me she didn't come up quite so well as usual that evening to one's ideal picture of the terrible, audacious, superb Roman woman. I leant over and murmured so to Irene. "Don't you know why?" Irene whispered back to me with a faint movement of the play-bill toward the beautiful stranger.
"No," I answered; "I haven't really the slightest conception."
"Why," she whispered, smiling; "just look beside you. Could anybody bear comparison for a moment as a Faustine with that splendid creature in the stall next to you?"
I stole a glance sideways as she spoke. It was quite true. The girl by my side was the real Faustine, the exact embodiment of the dramatist's creation; and Marie Leroux, with her stagey effects and her actress's pretences32, could not in any way stand the contrast with the genuine empress who sat there eagerly watching her.
The girl saw me glance quickly from her towards the[Pg 4] actress and from the actress back to her, and shrank aside, not with coquettish timidity, but half angrily and half as if flattered and pleased at the implied compliment. "Papa," she said to the very English-looking gentleman who sat beyond her, "ce monsieur-ci...." I couldn't catch the end of the sentence.
She was French, then, not Italian or Spanish; yet a more perfect Englishman than the man she called "papa" it would be difficult to discover on a long summer's day in all London.
"My dear," her father whispered back in English, "if I were you...." and the rest of that sentence also was quite inaudible to me.
My interest was now fully33 roused in the beautiful stranger, who sat evidently with her father and sister, and drank in every word of the play as it proceeded with the intensest interest. As for me, I hardly cared to look at the actors, so absorbed was I in my queenly neighbour. I made a bare pretence31 of watching the stage every five minutes, and saying a few words now and again to Irene or her mother; but my real attention was all the time furtively34 directed to the girl beside me. Not that I was taken with her; quite the contrary; she distinctly repelled35 me; but she seemed to exercise over me for all that the same strange and indescribable fascination which is often possessed36 by some horrible sight that you would give worlds to avoid, and yet cannot for your life help intently gazing upon.
Between the third and fourth acts Irene whispered to me again, "I can't keep my eyes off her, Harry. She's wonderfully beautiful. Confess now: aren't you over head and ears in love with her?"
I looked at Irene's sweet little peaceful English face, and I answered truthfully, "No, Irene. If I wanted to fall in love, I should find somebody——"
"Nonsense, Harry," Irene cried, blushing a little, and[Pg 5] holding up her fan before her nervously37. "She's a thousand times prettier and handsomer in every way——"
"Prettier?"
"Than I am."
At that moment the curtain rose, and Marie Leroux came forward once more with her imperial diadem38, in the very act of defying and bearding the enraged39 emperor.
It was a great scene. The whole theatre hung upon her words for twenty minutes. The effect was sublime40. Even I myself felt my interest aroused at last in the consummate41 spectacle. I glanced round to observe my neighbour. She sat there, straining her gaze upon the stage, and heaving her bosom42 with suppressed emotion. In a second, the spell was broken again. Beside that tall, dark southern girl, in her queenly beauty, with her flashing eyes and quivering nostrils43, intensely moved by the passion of the play, the mere44 actress who mouthed and gesticulated before us by the footlights was as sounding brass45 and a tinkling46 cymbal47. My companion in the stalls was the genuine Faustine: the player on the stage was but a false pretender.
As I looked a cry arose from the wings: a hushed cry at first, a buzz or hum; rising louder and ever louder still, as a red glare burst upon the scene from the background. Then a voice from the side boxes rang out suddenly above the confused murmur30 and the ranting48 of the actors "Fire! Fire!"
Almost before I knew what had happened, the mob in the stalls, like the mob in the gallery, was surging and swaying wildly towards the exits, in a general struggle for life of the fierce old selfish barbaric pattern. Dense49 clouds of smoke rolled from the stage and filled the length and breadth of the auditorium50; tongues of flame licked up the pasteboard scenes and hangings, like so much paper; women screamed, and fought, and fainted; men pushed one another aside and hustled51 and elbowed, in one[Pg 6] wild effort to make for the doors at all hazards to the lives of their neighbours. Never before had I so vividly52 realized how near the savage53 lies to the surface in our best and highest civilized54 society. I had to realize it still more vividly and more terribly afterwards.
One person alone I observed calm and erect55, resisting quietly all pushes and thrusts, and moving with slow deliberateness to the door, as if wholly unconcerned at the universal noise and hubbub56 and tumult57 around her. It was the dark girl from the stalls beside me.
For myself, my one thought of course was for poor Irene and Mrs. Latham. Fortunately, I am a strong and well-built man, and by keeping the two women in front of me, and thrusting hard with my elbows on either side to keep off the crush, I managed to make a tolerably clear road for them down the central row of stalls and out on to the big external staircase. The dark girl, now separated from her father and sister by the rush, was close in front of me. By a careful side movement, I managed to include her also in our party. She looked up to me gratefully with her big eyes, and her mouth broke into a charming smile as she turned and said in perfect English, "I am much obliged to you for your kind assistance." Irene's cheek was pale as death; but through the strange young lady's olive skin the bright blood still burned and glowed amid that frantic58 panic as calmly as ever.
We had reached the bottom of the steps, and were out into the front, when suddenly the strange lady turned around and gave a little cry of disappointment. "Mes lorgnettes! Mes lorgnettes!" she said. Then glancing round carelessly to me she went on in English: "I have left my opera-glasses inside on the vacant seat. I think, if you will excuse me, I'll go back and fetch them."
"It's impossible," I cried, "my dear madam. Utterly59 impossible. They'll crush you underfoot. They'll tear you to pieces."[Pg 7]
She smiled a strange haughty smile, as if amused at the idea, but merely answered, "I think not," and tried to pass lightly by me.
I held her arm. I didn't know then she was as strong as I was. "Don't go," I said imploringly60. "They will certainly kill you. It would be impossible to stem a mob like this one."
She smiled again, and darted61 back in silence before I could stop her.
Irene and Mrs. Latham were now fairly out of all danger. "Go on, Irene," I said loosing her arm. "Policeman, get these ladies safely out. I must go back and take care of that mad woman."
"Go, go quick," Irene cried. "If you don't go, she'll be killed, Harry."
I rushed back wildly after her, battling as well as I was able against the frantic rush of panic-stricken fugitives62, and found my companion struggling still upon the main staircase. I helped her to make her way back into the burning theatre, and she ran lightly through the dense smoke to the stall she had occupied, and took the opera-glasses from the vacant place. Then she turned to me once more with a smile of triumph. "People lose their heads so," she said, "in all these crushes. I came back on purpose to show papa I wasn't going to be frightened into leaving my opera-glasses. I should have been eternally ashamed of myself if I had come away and left them in the theatre."
"Quick," I answered, gasping63 for breath. "If you don't make haste, we shall be choked to death, or the roof itself will fall in upon us and crush us!"
She looked up where I pointed64 with a hasty glance, and then made her way back again quickly to the staircase. As we hurried out, the timbers of the stage were beginning to fall in, and the engines were already playing fiercely upon the raging flames. I took her hand and almost[Pg 8] dragged her out into the open. When we reached the Strand65, we were both wet through, and terribly blackened with smoke and ashes. Pushing our way through the dense crowd, I called a hansom. She jumped in lightly. "Thank you so much," she said, quite carelessly. "Will you kindly66 tell him where to drive? Twenty-seven, Seymour Crescent."
"I'll see you home, if you'll allow me," I answered. "Under these circumstances, I trust I may be permitted."
"As you like," she said, smiling enchantingly. "You are very good. My name is Césarine Vivian. Papa will be very much obliged to you for your kind assistance."
I drove round to the Lathams' after dropping Miss Vivian at her father's door, to assure myself of Irene's safety, and to let them know of my own return unhurt from my perilous67 adventure. Irene met me on the doorstep, pale as death still. "Thank heaven," she cried, "Harry, you're safe back again! And that poor girl? What has become of her?"
"I left her," I said, "at Seymour Crescent."
Irene burst into a flood of tears. "Oh, Harry," she cried, "I thought she would have been killed there. It was brave of you, indeed, to help her through with it."
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1
ambiguities
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| n.歧义( ambiguity的名词复数 )；意义不明确；模棱两可的意思；模棱两可的话 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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moorish
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| adj.沼地的，荒野的，生[住]在沼地的 | |
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haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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sinuous
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| adj.蜿蜒的，迂回的 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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17
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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18
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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penetration
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| n.穿透，穿人，渗透 | |
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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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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imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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pretence
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| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
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pretences
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| n.假装( pretence的名词复数 )；作假；自命；自称 | |
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33
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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repelled
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| v.击退( repel的过去式和过去分词 )；使厌恶；排斥；推开 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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diadem
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| n.王冠，冕 | |
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enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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40
sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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41
consummate
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| adj.完美的；v.成婚；使完美 [反]baffle | |
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42
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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43
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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45
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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cymbal
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| n.铙钹 | |
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48
ranting
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| v.夸夸其谈( rant的现在分词 )；大叫大嚷地以…说教；气愤地)大叫大嚷；不停地大声抱怨 | |
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49
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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50
auditorium
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| n.观众席，听众席；会堂，礼堂 | |
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51
hustled
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| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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52
vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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53
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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55
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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56
hubbub
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| n.嘈杂；骚乱 | |
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57
tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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58
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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60
imploringly
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| adv. 恳求地, 哀求地 | |
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61
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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fugitives
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| n.亡命者，逃命者( fugitive的名词复数 ) | |
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63
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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66
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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