Indeed he had already gone so far as to sit to an artist for his portrait in the habit of a monk9, gazing ardently10 at what looked to be the Escurial itself, but in reality was nothing other than an “impression” from the kitchen garden of Intriguer Park. And now this sudden change, this call to the East instead. There had been no time, unfortunately, before setting out to sit again in the picturesque11 “sombrero” of an explorer, but a ready camera had performed miracles, and the relatives of the Hon. ‘Eddy’ were relieved to behold12 his smiling countenance13 in the illustrated-weeklies, pick in hand, or with one foot resting on his spade while examining a broken jar, with just below the various editors’ comments: To join the Expedition to Chedorlahomor—the Hon. ‘Eddy’ Monteith, only son of Lord Intriguer; or, Off to Chedorlahomor! or, Bon Voyage...!
Yes, the temptation of the expedition 94 was not to be withstood, and for vows15 and renunciations there was always time!... And now leaning idly on his window ledge16 in a spare room of the Embassy, while his man unpacked17, he felt, as he surveyed the distant dome18 of the Blue Jesus above the dwarf-palm trees before the house, half-way to the East already. He was suffering a little in his dignity from the contretemps of his reception, for having arrived at the Embassy among a jobbed troop of serfs engaged for the night, Lady Something had at first mistaken him for one: “The cloak-room will be in the Smoking-room!” she had said, and in spite of her laughing excuses and ample apologies, he could not easily forget it. What was there in his appearance that could conceivably recall a cloak-room attendant—? He who had been assured he had the profile of a “Rameses”! And going to a mirror he scanned, with less perhaps than his habitual19 contentment, the light, liver-tinted hair, grey narrow eyes, hollow cheeks, and pale mouth like a broken moon. He was looking just a little fatigued20 he fancied from his journey, and really, it 95 was all his hostess deserved, if he didn’t go down.
“I have a headache, Mario,” he told his man (a Neapolitan who had been attached to almost as many professions as his master). “I shall not leave my room! Give me a kimono: I will take a bath.”
Undressing slowly, he felt as the garments dropped away, he was acting21 properly in refraining from attending the soirée, and only hoped the lesson would not be “lost” on Lady Something, whom he feared must be incurably22 dense23.
Lying amid the dissolving bath crystals while his man-servant deftly24 bathed him, he fell into a sort of coma25, sweet as a religious trance. Beneath the rhythmic26 sponge, perfumed with Kiki, he was St Sebastian, and as the water became cloudier and the crystals evaporated amid the steam, he was Teresa ... and he would have been, most likely, the Blessed Virgin27 herself, but that the bath grew gradually cold.
“You’re looking a little pale, sir, about the gills!” the valet solicitously28 observed, as he gently dried him. 96
The Hon. ‘Eddy’ winced29: “I forbid you ever to employ the word gill, Mario,” he exclaimed. “It is inharmonious, and in English it jars; whatever it may do in Italian.”
“Overtired, sir, was what I meant to say.”
Swathed in towels, it was delicious to relax his powder-blanched limbs upon a comfy couch, while Mario went for dinner: “I don’t care what it is! So long as it isn’t—”(naming several dishes that he particularly abhorred32, or might be “better,” perhaps, without)—” And be sure, fool, not to come back without Champagne33.”
He could not choose but pray that the Ambassadress had nothing whatever to do with the Embassy cellar, for from what he had seen of her already, he had only a slight opinion of her discernment.
Really he might have been excused had he taken her to be the cook instead of the social representative of the Court of St James, and he was unable to repress a 97 caustic34 smile on recollecting35 her appearance that afternoon, with her hat awry37, crammed38 with Maréchal Niel roses, hot, and decoiffed, flourishing a pair of garden-gauntlets as she issued her commands. What a contrast to his own Mamma—“so different,” ... and his thoughts returned to Intriguer—“dear Intriguer, ...” that if only to vex39 his father’s ghost, he would one day turn into a Jesuit college! The Confessional should be fitted in the paternal40 study, and engravings of the Inquisition, or the sweet faces of Lippi and Fra Angelico, replace the Agrarian41 certificates and tiresome42 trophies43 of the chase; while the crack of the discipline in Lent would echo throughout the house! How “useful” his friend Robbie Renard would have been; but alas44 poor Robbie. He had passed through life at a rapid canter, having died at nineteen....
Through the open window a bee droned in on the blue air of evening and closing his eyes he fell to considering whether the bee of one country would understand the 98 remarks of that of another. The effect of the soil of a nation, had it consequences upon its Flora47? Were plants influenced at their roots? People sometimes spoke48 (and especially ladies) of the language of flowers ... the pollen49 therefore of an English rose would probably vary, not inconsiderably, from that of a French, and a bee born and bred at home (at Intriguer for instance) would be at a loss to understand (it clearly followed) the conversation of one born and bred, here, abroad. A bee’s idiom varied51 then, as did man’s! And he wondered, this being proved the case, where the best bees’ accents were generally acquired....
Opening his eyes, he perceived his former school chum, Lionel Limpness—Lord Tiredstock’s third (and perhaps most gifted) son, who was an honorary attaché at the Embassy, standing52 over him, his spare figure already arrayed in an evening suit.
“Sorry to hear you’re off colour, Old Dear!” he exclaimed, sinking down upon the couch beside his friend.
“I’m only a little shaken, Lionel...: have a cigarette.” 99
“And so you’re off to Chedorlahomor, Old Darling?” Lord Tiredstock’s third son said.
“I suppose so ...” the only son of Lord Intriguer replied.
“Well, I wish I was going too!”
“It would be charming, Lionel, of course to have you: but they might appoint you Vice53-Consul at Sodom, or something?”
“Why Vice? Besides...! There’s no consulate54 there yet,” Lord Tiredstock’s third son said, examining the objects upon the portable altar, draped in prelatial purple of his friend.
“Turn over, Old Dear, while I chastise55 you!” he exclaimed, waving what looked to be a tortoiseshell lorgnon to which had been attached three threads of “cerulean” floss silk.
“Put it down, Lionel, and don’t be absurd.”
“Over we go. Come on.”
“Really, Lionel.”
“Penitence! To thy knees, Sir!”
And just as it seemed that the only son of Lord Intriguer was to be deprived of all 100 his towels, the Ambassadress mercifully entered.
“Poor Mr Monteith!” she exclaimed in tones of concern bustling56 forward with a tablespoon and a bottle containing physic, “so unfortunate.... Taken ill at the moment you arrive! But Life is like that!”
Clad in the flowing circumstance of an oyster57 satin ball dress, and all a-glitter like a Christmas tree (with jewels), her arrival perhaps saved her guest a “whipping.”
“Had I known, Lady Something, I was going to be ill, I would have gone to the Ritz!” the Hon. ‘Eddy’ gasped58.
“And you’d have been bitten all over!” Lady Something replied.
“Bitten all over?”
“The other evening we were dining at the Palace, and I heard the dear King say—but I oughtn’t to talk and excite you——”
“By the way, Lady Something,” Lord Tiredstock’s third son asked: “what is the etiquette59 for the Queen of Dateland’s eunuch?”
“It’s all according; but you had better 101 ask Sir Somebody, Air Limpness,” Lady Something replied, glancing with interest at the portable altar.
“I’ve done so, and he declared he’d be jiggered!”
“I recollect36 in Pera when we occupied the Porte, they seemed (those of the old Grand Vizier—oh what a good-looking man he was—! such eyes—! and such a way with him—! Despot!!) only too thankful to crouch60 in corners.”
“Attention with that castor-oil...!”
“It’s not castor-oil; it’s a little decoction of my own,—aloes, gregory, a dash of liquorice. And the rest is buckthorn!”
“Euh!”
“It’s not so bad, though it mayn’t be very nice.... Toss it off like a brave man, Mr Monteith (nip his nostrils61, Mr Limpness), and while he takes it, I’ll offer a silent prayer for him at that duck of an altar,” and as good as her word, the Ambassadress made towards it.
“You’re altogether too kind,” the Hon. ‘Eddy’ murmured seeking refuge in a book—a volume of Juvenalia published for him 102 by “Blackwood of Oxford,” and becoming absorbed in its contents: “Ah Doris”—“Lines to Doris”—“Lines to Doris: written under the influence of wine, sun and fever”—“Ode to Swinburne”—“Sad Tamarisks”—“Rejection”—“Doigts Obscènes”—“They Call me Lily!”—“Land of Titian! Land of Verdi! Oh Italy!”—“I heard the Clock:
I heard the clock strike seven,
Seven strokes I heard it strike!
His Lordship’s gone to London
And won’t be back to-night.”
He had written it at Intriguer, after a poignant62 domestic disagreement, his Papa,—the “his lordship” of the poem—had stayed away however considerably50 longer.... And here was a sweet thing suggested by an old Nursery Rhyme, “Loves, have you Heard”:
“Loves, have you heard about the rabbits??
They have such odd fantastic habits....
Oh, Children...! I daren’t disclose to You
The licentious63 things some rabbits do.”
103
It had “come to him” quite suddenly out ferreting one day with the footman....
But a loud crash as the portable altar collapsed64 beneath the weight of the Ambassadress aroused him unpleasantly from his thoughts.
“Horrid dangerous thing!” she exclaimed as Lord Tiredstock’s third son assisted her to rise from her “Silent” prayer: “I had no idea it wasn’t solid! But Life is like that ...” she added somewhat wildly.
“Pity oh my God! Deliver me!” the Hon. ‘Eddy’ breathed, but the hour of deliverance it seemed was not just yet; for at that instant the Hon. Mrs Chilleywater, the “literary” wife of the first attaché, thrust her head in at the door.
“How are you?” she asked. “I thought perhaps I might find Harold....”
“He’s with Sir Somebody.”
“Such mysteries!” Lady Something said.
“This betrothal65 of Princess Elsie’s is simply wearing him out,” Mrs Chilleywater declared, sweeping66 the room with half-closed, expressionless eyes. 104
“It’s a pity you can’t pull the strings67 for us,” Lady Something ventured: “I was saying so lately to Sir Somebody.”
“Of Mrs Chilleywater’s forthcoming book.”
“Why should Barnaby get Grace—? Why not Tex!”
But Mrs Chilleywater refused to enter into reasons.
“She is looking for cowslips,” she said, “and oh I’ve such a wonderful description of a field of cowslips.... They make quite a darling setting for a powerful scene of lust14.”
“Even so she’s far too good for Baldwin: after the underhand shabby way he behaved to Charlotte, Kate, and Millicent!”
“It ought not to be, Lady Something!” Mrs Chilleywater looked vindictive74.
Née Victoria Gellybore Frinton, and the sole heir of Lord Seafairer of Sevenelms, Kent, Mrs Harold Chilleywater, since her marriage “for Love,” had developed a disconcerting taste for fiction—a taste that was regarded at the Foreign Office with disapproving75 forbearance.... So far her efforts (written under her maiden76 name in full with her husband’s as well appended) had been confined to lurid77 studies of low life (of which she knew nothing at all), but the Hon. Harold Chilleywater had been gently warned, that if he was not to remain at Kairoulla until the close of his career, the style of his wife must really grow less virile78.
“I agree with V.G.F.,” the Hon. Lionel Limpness murmured fondling meditatively79 his “Charlie Chaplin” moustache—“Life ought not to be.” 106
“It’s a mistake to bother oneself over matters that can’t be remedied.”
Mrs Chilleywater acquiesced80: “You’re right indeed, Lady Something,” she said, “but I’m so sensitive.... I seem to know when I talk to a man, the colour of his braces81...! I say to myself: ‘Yours are violet....’ ‘Yours are blue....’ ‘His are red....’”
“I’ll bet you anything, Mrs Chilleywater, you like, you won’t guess what mine are,” the Hon. Lionel Limpness said.
“I should say, Mr Limpness, that they were multihued—like Jacob’s,” Mrs Chilleywater replied, as she withdrew her head.
The Ambassadress prepared to follow:
“Come, Mr Limpness,” she exclaimed, “we’ve exhausted82 the poor fellow quite enough—and besides, here comes his dinner.”
“Open the champagne, Mario,” his master commanded immediately they were alone.
“‘Small’ beer is all the butler would allow, sir.”
“Damn the b... butler!” 107
“What he calls a demi-brune, sir. In Naples we say spumenti!”
“To —— with it.”
“Non é tanto amarro, sir; it’s more sharp, as you’d say, than bitter....”
“......!!!!!!”
Standing beneath the portraits of King Geo and Queen Glory, Lady Something, behind a large sheaf of mauve malmaisons, was growing stiff. Already, for the most part, the guests were welcomed, and it was only the Archduchess now, who as usual was late, that kept their Excellencies lingering at the head of the stairs. Her Majesty85 Queen Thleeanouhee of the Land of Dates had just arrived, but seemed loath86 to leave the stairs, while her hostess, whom she addressed affectionately as her dear gazelle, remained upon them—?“Let us go away by and by, my dear gazelle,” she exclaimed with a primitive87 smile, “and remove our corsets and talk.”
“Unhappily Pisuerga is not the East, ma’am!” Lady Something replied. 108
“Never mind, my dear; we will introduce this innovation....”
But the arrival of the Archduchess Elizabeth spared the Ambassadress from what might too easily have become an “incident.”
In the beautiful chandeliered apartments several young couples were pirouetting to the inevitable88 waltz from the Blue Banana, but most of the guests seemed to prefer exploring the conservatories89 and Winter Garden, or elbowing their way into a little room where a new portrait of Princess Elsie had been discreetly90 placed....
“One feels, of course, there was a sitting—; but still, it isn’t like her!” those that had seen her said.
“The artist has attributed to her at least the pale spent eyes of her father!” the Duchess of Cavaljos remarked to her niece, who was standing quite silent against a rose-red curtain.
Mademoiselle de Nazianzi made no reply. Attaching not the faintest importance to the rumours91 afloat, still, she could not but feel, at times, a little heartshaken....
“She will become florid in time like her mother!” she cheerfully predicted turning away just as the Archduchess approached herself to inspect the painting.
Swathed in furs, on account of a troublesome cough contracted paddling, she seemed nevertheless in charming spirits.
“Have you been to my new Pipi?” she asked.
“Not yet——”
“Oh but you must!”
“I’m told it’s even finer than the one at the Railway Station. Ah, from musing45 too long on that Hellenic frieze92, how often I’ve missed my train!” the Duchess of Cavaljos murmured, with a little fat deep laugh.
“I have a heavenly idea for another—Yellow tiles with Thistles....”
“Your Royal Highness never repeats herself!”
“Nothing will satisfy me this time,” the Archduchess declared, “but files of state-documents in all the dear little boxes: In secret, secrets!” she added archly fixing her eyes on the assembly. 110
“It’s positively93 pitiable,” the Duchess of Cavaljos commented, “how the Countess of Tolga is losing her good-looks: She has the air to-night of a tired business-woman!”
“She looks at other women as though she would inhale94 them,” the Archduchess answered, throwing back her furs with a gesture of superb grace, in order to allow her robe to be admired by a lady who was scribbling95 busily away behind a door, with little nervous lifts of the head. For noblesse oblige the correspondent of the Jaw-Waw, the illustrious Eva Schnerb, was not to be denied.
“Among the many balls of a brilliant season,” the diarist, with her accustomed fluency96, wrote: “none surpassed that which I witnessed at the English Embassy last night. I sat in a corner of the Winter Garden and literally97 gorged98 myself upon the display of dazzling uniforms and jewels. The Ambassadress Lady Something was looking really regal in dawn-white draperies, holding a bouquet99 of the new mauve malmaisons (which are all the vogue100 just now), 111 but no one, I thought, looked better than the Archduchess, etc.... Helping101 the hostess, I noticed Mrs Harold Chilleywater, in an ‘?sthetic’ gown of flame-hued Kanitra silk edged with Armousky fur (to possess a dear woolly Armousk as a pet, is considered chic102 this season), while over her brain—an intellectual caprice, I wonder?—I saw a tinsel bow.... She is a daughter of the fortieth Lord Seafairer of Sevenelms-Park (so famous for its treasures) and is very artistic103 and literary having written several novels of English life under her maiden name of Victoria Gellybore-Frinton:—She inherits considerable cleverness also from her Mother. Dancing indefatigably104 (as she always does!) Miss Ivy105 Something seemed to be thoroughly106 enjoying her Father’s ball: I hear on excellent authority there is no foundation in the story of her engagement to a certain young Englishman, said to be bound ere long for the ruins of Sodom and Gomorrah. Among the late arrivals were the Duke and Duchess of Varna—she all in golden tissues: they came together with Madame Wetme, who 112 is one of the new hostesses of the season you know, and they say has bought the Duke of Varna’s palatial107 town-house in Samaden Square——”
“There,” the Archduchess murmured, drawing her wraps about her with a sneeze: “she has said quite enough now I think about my toilette!”
But the illustrious Eva was in unusual fettle, and only closed her notebook towards Dawn, when the nib108 of her pen caught fire.
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1
intriguer
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| 密谋者 | |
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attachments
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| n.（用电子邮件发送的）附件( attachment的名词复数 )；附着；连接；附属物 | |
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attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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draughts
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| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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royalty
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| n.皇家，皇族 | |
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pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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excavation
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| n.挖掘，发掘；被挖掘之地 | |
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monastery
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| n.修道院，僧院，寺院 | |
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monk
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| n.和尚，僧侣，修道士 | |
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ardently
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| adv.热心地，热烈地 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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unpacked
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| v.从（包裹等）中取出（所装的东西），打开行李取出( unpack的过去式和过去分词 )；拆包；解除…的负担；吐露（心事等） | |
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dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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fatigued
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| adj. 疲乏的 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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incurably
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| ad.治不好地 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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deftly
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| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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coma
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| n.昏迷，昏迷状态 | |
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rhythmic
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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solicitously
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| adv.热心地，热切地 | |
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winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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plied
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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glibness
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| n.花言巧语；口若悬河 | |
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abhorred
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| v.憎恶( abhor的过去式和过去分词 )；（厌恶地）回避；拒绝；淘汰 | |
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champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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caustic
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| adj.刻薄的，腐蚀性的 | |
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recollecting
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| v.记起，想起( recollect的现在分词 ) | |
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recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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awry
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| adj.扭曲的，错的 | |
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crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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vex
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| vt.使烦恼，使苦恼 | |
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paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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agrarian
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| adj.土地的，农村的，农业的 | |
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tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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trophies
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| n.（为竞赛获胜者颁发的）奖品( trophy的名词复数 )；奖杯；（尤指狩猎或战争中获得的）纪念品；（用于比赛或赛跑名称）奖 | |
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44
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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musingly
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| adv.沉思地，冥想地 | |
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47
flora
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| n.(某一地区的)植物群 | |
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48
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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pollen
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| n.[植]花粉 | |
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50
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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51
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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52
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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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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54
consulate
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| n.领事馆 | |
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chastise
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| vt.责骂，严惩 | |
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bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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oyster
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| n.牡蛎；沉默寡言的人 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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59
etiquette
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| n.礼仪，礼节；规矩 | |
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60
crouch
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| v.蹲伏，蜷缩，低头弯腰；n.蹲伏 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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poignant
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| adj.令人痛苦的，辛酸的，惨痛的 | |
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licentious
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| adj.放纵的，淫乱的 | |
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collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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betrothal
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| n. 婚约, 订婚 | |
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66
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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68
wagering
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| v.在（某物）上赌钱，打赌( wager的现在分词 )；保证，担保 | |
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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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seduced
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| 诱奸( seduce的过去式和过去分词 )； 勾引； 诱使堕落； 使入迷 | |
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queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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blandly
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| adv.温和地，殷勤地 | |
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vindictive
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| adj.有报仇心的，怀恨的，惩罚的 | |
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disapproving
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| adj.不满的，反对的v.不赞成( disapprove的现在分词 ) | |
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maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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virile
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| adj.男性的；有男性生殖力的；有男子气概的；强有力的 | |
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meditatively
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| adv.冥想地 | |
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acquiesced
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| v.默认，默许( acquiesce的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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braces
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| n.吊带，背带；托架( brace的名词复数 )；箍子；括弧；（儿童）牙箍v.支住( brace的第三人称单数 )；撑牢；使自己站稳；振作起来 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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85
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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89
conservatories
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| n.（培植植物的）温室，暖房( conservatory的名词复数 ) | |
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discreetly
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| ad.(言行)审慎地，慎重地 | |
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rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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frieze
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| n.(墙上的)横饰带，雕带 | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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inhale
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| v.吸入(气体等)，吸(烟) | |
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scribbling
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| n.乱涂[写]胡[乱]写的文章[作品]v.潦草的书写( scribble的现在分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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fluency
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| n.流畅，雄辩，善辩 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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98
gorged
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| v.（用食物把自己）塞饱，填饱( gorge的过去式和过去分词 )；作呕 | |
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99
bouquet
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| n.花束，酒香 | |
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100
Vogue
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| n.时髦，时尚；adj.流行的 | |
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101
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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102
chic
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| n./adj.别致(的)，时髦(的)，讲究的 | |
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103
artistic
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| adj.艺术(家)的，美术(家)的；善于艺术创作的 | |
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104
indefatigably
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| adv.不厌倦地，不屈不挠地 | |
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105
ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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106
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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107
palatial
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| adj.宫殿般的，宏伟的 | |
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108
nib
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| n.钢笔尖；尖头 | |
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