“The way the air will catch your cheek and make a rose of it,” the Countess of Tolga breathed. And as none of the company heeded2 her: “How sweetly the air takes one’s cheek,” she sighed again.
The post-prandial exercise of the members of the Court through the palace grounds was almost an institution.
The first half of the mourning prescribed, had as yet not run its course, but the tongues of the Queen’s ladies had long since made an end of it.
“I hate dancing with a fat man,” Mademoiselle de Nazianzi was saying: “for if you dance at all near him, his stomach hits you, while if you pull away, you catch 120 either the scent3 of his breath or the hair of his beard.”
“But, you innocent baby, all big men haven’t beards,” Countess Medusa Rappa remarked.
“Haven’t they? Never mind. Everything’s so beautiful,” the young girl inconsequently exclaimed: “Look at that Thistle! and that Bee! O, you darling!”
“Ah, how one’s face unbends in gardens!” the Countess of Tolga said, regarding the scene before her, with a faraway pensive4 glance.
Along the lake’s shore, sheltered from the winds by a ring of wooded hills, shewed many a proud retreat, mirroring its marble terraces to the waveless waters of the lake.
Beneath a twin-peaked crag (known locally as the White Mountain whose slopes frequently would burst forth5 into patches of garlic that from the valley resembled snow) nestled the Villa6 Clement7, rented each season by the Ambassador of the Court of St James, while half-screened by conifers and rhododendrons, and in the lake itself, was St Helena—the home and 121 place of retirement8 of a “fallen” minister of the Crown.
Countess Medusa Rappa cocked her sunshade; “Whose boat is that,” she asked, “with the azure9 oars10?”
“It looks nothing but a pea-pod!” the Countess of Tolga declared.
“It belongs to a darling, with delicious lips and eyes like brown chestnuts,” Mademoiselle de Lambèse informed.
“Ah!... Ah!... Ah!... Ah!...” her colleagues crooned.
“A sailor?”
The Queen’s maid nodded: “There’s a partner, though,” she added, “A blue-eyed, gashed-cheeked angel....”
Mademoiselle de Nazianzi looked away.
“I love the lake with the white wandering ships,” she sentimentally11 stated, descrying12 in the distance the prince.
It was usually towards this time, the hour of the siesta13, that the lovers would meet and taste their happiness, but, to-day, it seemed ordained14 otherwise.
Before the heir apparent had determined15 whether to advance or retreat, his 122 father and mother were upon him, attended by two dowagers newly lunched.
“The song of the pilgrim women, how it haunts me,” one of the dowagers was holding forth: “I could never tire of that beautiful, beautiful music! Never tire of it. Ne-ver....”
“Ta, ta, ta, ta,” the Queen vociferated girlishly, slipping her arm affectionately through that of her son’s.
“How spent you look, my boy.... Those eyes....”
“They’ve just been rubbing in Elsie!” he said.
“Who?”
“‘Vasleine’ and ‘Nanny-goat’!”
“Well?”
“Nothing will shake me.”
“What are your objections?”
“She’s so extraordinarily17 uninteresting!”
“We had always thought you too lacking in initiative,” King William said 123 (tucking a few long hairs back into his nose) “to marry against our wishes.”
“They say she walks too wonderfully,” the Queen courageously19 pursued.
“What? Well?”
“Yes.”
“Thank God for it.”
“And can handle a horse as few others can!”
Prince Yousef closed his eyes.
He had not forgotten how as an undergraduate in England he had come upon the princess once while out with the hounds. And it was only by a consummate effort that he was able to efface20 the sinister21 impression she had made—her lank22 hair falling beneath a man’s felt-hat, her habit skirt torn to tatters, her full cheeks smeared23 in blood; the blood, so it seemed, of her “first” fox.
“No, nothing can possibly shake me,” he murmured again.
(Oh you gardens of Palaces...! How 124 often have you witnessed agitation26 and disappointment? You smooth, adorned27 paths...! How often have you known the extremes of care...?)
“It would be better to do away I think next year with that bed of cinerarias altogether,” the Queen of Pisuerga remarked, “since persons won’t go round it.”
Traversing the flower plat now, with the air of a black-beetle with a purpose, was the Countess Yvorra.
“We had supposed you higher-principled, Countess,” her sovereign admonished28.
The Countess slightly flushed.
“I’m looking for groundsel for my birds, Sire,” she said—“for my little dickies!”
The Countess tittered.
“Animals love me,” she archly professed30. “Birds perch31 on my breast if only I wave.... The other day a sweet red robin32 came and stayed for hours...!”
“The Court looks to you to set a high example,” the Queen declared, focusing quizzically a marble shape of Leda green 125 with moss33, for whose time-corroded plinth the late Archduchess’ toy-terrier was just then shewing a certain contempt.
“With your majesty’s consent,” she said, “I propose a campaign to the Island.”
“What? And beard the Count?”
“The salvation37 of one so fallen, in my estimation should be worth hereafter (at the present rate of exchange, but the values vary) ... a Plenary perpetual-indulgence: I therefore,” the Countess said, with an upward fleeting38 glance (and doubtless guileless of intention of irony), “feel it my duty to do what I can.”
“And pray tell Count Cabinet from us,” the King looked implacable: “we forbid him to serenade the Court this year! or to throw himself into the Lake again or to make himself a nuisance!”
“He was over early this morning, Willie,” the Queen retailed40: “I saw him 126 from a window. Fishing, or feigning41 to! And with white kid gloves, and a red carnation42.”
“And as usual the same mignon youth had the charge of the tiller.”
“I could tell a singular story of that young man,” the Countess said: “for he was once a choir-boy at the Blue Jesus. But, perhaps, I would do better to spare your ears....”
“You would do better, a good deal, to spare my cinerarias,” her Dreaminess murmured, sauntering slowly on.
Sun so bright, trees so green, it was a perfect day. Through the glittering fronds44 of the palms shone the lake like a floor of silver glass strewn with white sails.
“It’s odd,” the King observed, giving the dog Teddywegs a sly prod45 with his cane46, “how he follows Yousef.”
“He seems to know!” the Queen replied.
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1
consummate
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| adj.完美的；v.成婚；使完美 [反]baffle | |
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2
heeded
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| v.听某人的劝告，听从( heed的过去式和过去分词 )；变平，使（某物）变平( flatten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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3
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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4
pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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7
clement
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| adj.仁慈的；温和的 | |
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8
retirement
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| n.退休，退职 | |
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azure
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| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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10
oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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sentimentally
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| adv.富情感地 | |
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descrying
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| v.被看到的，被发现的，被注意到的( descried的过去分词 ) | |
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13
siesta
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| n.午睡 | |
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14
ordained
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| v.任命（某人）为牧师( ordain的过去式和过去分词 )；授予（某人）圣职；（上帝、法律等）命令；判定 | |
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15
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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16
grimaced
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| v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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17
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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18
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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19
courageously
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| ad.勇敢地，无畏地 | |
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efface
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| v.擦掉，抹去 | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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22
lank
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| adj.瘦削的；稀疏的 | |
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23
smeared
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| 弄脏； 玷污； 涂抹； 擦上 | |
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24
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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25
inhale
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| v.吸入(气体等)，吸(烟) | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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28
admonished
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| v.劝告( admonish的过去式和过去分词 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
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29
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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30
professed
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| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
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31
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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32
robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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33
moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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34
pulpy
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| 果肉状的，多汁的，柔软的； 烂糊； 稀烂 | |
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35
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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36
thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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37
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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38
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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39
bodyguard
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| n.护卫，保镖 | |
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40
retailed
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| vt.零售（retail的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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41
feigning
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| 假装，伪装( feign的现在分词 )； 捏造（借口、理由等） | |
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42
carnation
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| n.康乃馨（一种花） | |
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43
ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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44
fronds
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| n.蕨类或棕榈类植物的叶子( frond的名词复数 ) | |
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45
prod
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| vt.戳，刺；刺激，激励 | |
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46
cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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47
curtly
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| adv.简短地 | |
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