"Upon my word," said Lady Aspasia to herself; "I'll send in his name for my royal party."
M. Chatelard, pouring forth6 a whispered flow of language, with a pause on the delicate point, and a quiet chuckle7 after the ready listener had had time to seize it and ring her hearty8, unreserved tribute of appreciation9, was privately10 making little notes for future publication, with all the traveller's joy of discovery. "Et il y en a encore qui croient que les Anglaises sont guindées! Un esprit tout11 Rabelaisien—cette dame12! Allons, l'age Victorien est bien mort et enterré!"
Miss Aspasia, who some time back had been told, with a flap of Lady Aspasia's hand, "not to listen, little girl," sat, highly disapproving13, at the further end of the room. Bethune, whose existence the great lady now elected to ignore, had taken a chair at a little distance from the girl. A monosyllabic conversation began between them and dropped. He asked her for some music, and she tartly14 refused with a reproachful look. She wondered at him. Did he not know her aunt's head was bad? He didn't know? Well, he might have seen that she was ill! To this he made no answer, and thereafter they spoke15 no more. The man had a talent for taciturnity, but the effort of Baby's silence seemed to bristle16. She sat very erect17. Her mouth pursed, her nostrils18 dilated19, her eyes widely opened, her arched eyebrows20 more arched than ever. The tittering, the whispering, the laughter, the meaning wriggles21 of the two backs as they leant towards each other before the hearth, irritated her beyond endurance.
"M. Chatelard," she suddenly cried, in fluent French, with her enfant terrible directness, "do tell me—I don't want to be rude; but why do you cut your hair so close to your head? Isn't it very cold this weather?"
"Alas22, Mademoiselle," said he, turning round; his alertness of courtesy was ingrain; "I do not dare to show to the world that my head is quite white."
"You think it looks better pink?" said Baby, innocently.
"Pink!" said M. Chatelard, a little disconcerted, passing his hand over his cropped pate23. "Is it possible?" Then, sparkling: "Pink? I had no idea that Lady Melbury had so made me blush!"
"Oh, blush!" cried Lady Aspasia, her momentary24 displeasure with the pert schoolgirl lost in a yell of delight at M. Chatelard's readiness; "It's well that my blushing days are over!"
"Oh, Milady!" And they put their heads together again.
Young Aspasia pinched in her rosy25 lips so tight that they made the most absurd button of a mouth ever seen. Bethune, who had listened with immovable gravity to this sally, betraying indeed no sign of having heard it, save for the rolling of an icy eye towards M. Chatelard, now let his glance rest upon her. The hard muscles of his face began to soften26.
He had been slowly making up his mind during the whole of the evening, and now he had decided27. He would leave the manor-house on the morrow, and cut himself once and for ever apart from its inmates28. But, the devil was in it that, in the midst of the most intolerable mental trouble he had ever endured, he should have once and again this absurd unreasonable29 feeling that if he were to carry away with him this pretty Aspasia, this fluffy30, pouting31, pert, bird-like thing, it would be sweet! Something like the blessedness of a peep of blue in a sky of lurid32 clouds, a ray of sunshine across a barren moor33, a snowdrop in bleak34 winter. The feeling had no sense in it. He was a prey35 to as strong a passion as ever possessed36 a man; and he not only despised himself, hated himself for his passion, but was conscious that by the object of it he was held a thing of scorn. More than this, she, who thus in spite of reason filled his thoughts, was suffering, and he could not lift a finger to help her. The whole source of her suffering was only vaguely37 understood by him; but he knew that her husband's presence had nearly driven her to desperation. It was acute torture to him now to think of Sir Arthur in his wife's room; and yet ... haunted by these unworthy degrading thoughts of one who should have been twice sacred to him, he found himself longing38 to take Aspasia to his breast—bright-eyed Aspasia, pecking, twittering, fluttering like an angry dove, withal so soft, so warm, so true! His inconsequent heart seemed to cry out for the comfort of her.
Sir Arthur opened the door and looked in.
"Pray, pray," said he, inserting an arm, after his head, to wave back the confidential39 couple who with a great scraping of chairs had risen to their feet, "do not let me disturb any one. I am only looking for Aspasia."
"Oh Lord!" said Aspasia, under her voice, alarm springing to her eyes. "I'm here, Runkle."
"Can you spare me a few minutes' private conversation, my dear Aspasia?"
His tone was very solemn. He was conscious of the hush40 that had fallen upon the room, conscious of the perturbed41 looks that were fixed42 upon him, conscious of his own countenance43 of trouble. But it was not without a gloomy self-approval that, given circumstances the most woeful that could perhaps be imagined, he realised there were few who could negotiate them like himself.
Aspasia went reluctantly to her uncle's summons. Her heart was heavy with anxiety concerning Rosamond. In her constitutional distrust of whatever course of action Sir Arthur might take it into his head to adopt, she had an oppressive sensation that most of the responsibility of affairs rested upon her own young shoulders.
"Lord," thought the girl to herself, as her lagging feet took her across the drawing-room; "if one could only just shut up Runkle in a box for six months, there might be some hope of things settling down."
Sir Arthur beckoned44 her towards the little study, where, through the half-opened door, a ruddy light showed that the room had now been made ready for the smokers45. His air of portentous46 gloom so exasperated47 Baby that she had to relieve her feelings by childish kicks at the mats in the hall as she passed.
"I presume that we shall be undisturbed here for the present," said Sir Arthur. He pushed open the door and started back with an irritated exclamation48: "Confound that fellow, he's like a night moth49!"
Between the fire and the lamplight, Muhammed Saif-u-din stood facing them. It seemed as if he had been pacing the little space, and had wheeled round at the sound of their approach. Baby's heart gave a wild throb50, and then stood still. The Indian had certainly been very restless all the evening. Sir Arthur Gerardine's arrival seemed to have excited him in a singular manner, and there could be no mistaking now the straight, vindictive51 look that the secretary fixed upon his master. She was minded of a splendid black panther she had seen at an Indian village fair, not so very long ago.—The beast had been padding the narrow limits of its cage backwards52 and forwards until she had drawn53 close to admire it, when it had stopped and fixed her with its eyes—just such a gaze (she told herself, shivering) as that which Muhammed fixed on Sir Arthur; a gaze as concentrated as unfathomably savage54. "Him very bad beast," had said the showman, grinning at her.—"Him dreaming of drinking Missie Sahib's blood."
* * * * *
Sir Arthur's grating voice rang out angrily in a brief phrase of Hindustani. The Pathan unfolded his arms, made a gesture with one hand, and left the room without speaking. In that gesture Baby nervously55 read the meaning: I can bide56 my time.
"Runkle," she cried, catching57 her breath, "how could you bring that dreadful man over from India? I'm sure it's not safe. Even Major Bethune—and he's lived all his life among them, you know—thinks he's mysterious. Oh, do, do be careful!"
"Aspasia," said Sir Arthur, severely58, "I am surprised at you. I have other matters, matters of far other moment on my mind, I can tell you. What nonsense is this? The fellow there doesn't know his place, I grant you. I've just told him so. You saw how he quailed59. He's devoured60 with curiosity, that's all. And, indeed," Sir Arthur sighed, "there are strange things taking place in this house. He may well be curious."
"Oh, Runkle, I don't think it's that; he's not the ordinary type of Indian, I'm convinced. He's got some purpose here."
"Pooh, nonsense, my dear Aspasia! Purpose? Ridiculous! I should hope I know how to deal with the creatures by this time. Don't you begin this sort of nerve business, too—I shall begin to think," said poor Sir Arthur, running a distracted hand through his grey curls, "that there's something about this pestilent place that's driving everybody crazy." Again he caught himself up with a deep sigh on the last word. "I shall give Master Muhammed his lesson to-morrow. I don't require to be taught how to manage the cattle—under the heel, my dear, under the heel! To-night——" He paused. "Aspasia," he lowered his voice: "I am addressing you in the utmost confidence, relying upon your good sense and judgment61. Listen to me calmly and answer me with truth absolute. Have you ever noticed any symptom in your poor aunt...?"
He had leant forward to drop these words mysteriously into her ear; now he straightened himself, shook his head, and tapped his forehead.
"Uncle Arthur...!" gasped62 the girl, her pretty round face suddenly pinched and small, her eyes abnormally large. What, indeed, were such trivial speculations63 as a Pathan's possible yearning64 for Sir Arthur's blood to so hideous65 a suggestion as this? Here was her own hidden terror of all these weeks voiced calmly, judicially66; in acknowledgment of, almost in resignation to, an accomplished67 fact.
"You can't mean——" she stammered68.
"My dear," said Sir Arthur, with melancholy69 triumph, "I am in very serious anxiety. Your aunt's manner to-night, the things she has said to me just now, her actions, her looks—I can only explain them, heartrending as it is to me to have to admit it, in one way."
"Poor Aunt has got neurasthenia," faltered70 the unhappy Baby.
"My dear Aspasia," said Sir Arthur; "may it be only that! I pray it may be only that. But the affair is too serious. I shall have the best professional advice to-morrow, the first mental specialist in England."
"What!" screamed Aspasia, suddenly scarlet71 to the roots of her hair; "you're never going to get a horrid72 mad doctor for poor darling Aunt Rosamond?"
"My dear Aspasia!" ejaculated he, beating down the sound of her crude words with his hands. "It is my duty, Aspasia, to get the best advice, the best treatment, at the earliest possible opportunity. And it is your duty," he said, fixing his eyes sternly upon her, "to tell me everything that can conduce to a better knowledge of her state."
Rivulets73 of cold water ran down Aspasia's back. She felt a sudden, awful premonition of relentless74 fate closing about her; of the cruelty of human beings to each other; something of the terror of the ignorant patient in the surgical75 ward5.
"What would they want to do with Aunt Rosamond?" she faltered.
Sir Arthur shook his head again.
"Sometimes the only chance is a temporary retreat—temporary, we must hope and trust."
"You mean," she shrieked76, and advanced on him with her small fists clenched77; "shut up Aunt Rosamond, shut her up—— Never! You wicked, horrible old fool! What should you shut her up for? She's not mad. She's no more mad than I am. Why should you call her mad, just because she turned sick at the sight of you all guzzling78 dinner?"
"Hush, hush!" he cried.
"I don't care who hears me," she retorted, in the same high tones of sobbing79 indignation. "You were guzzling. Your nasty old Lady Aspasia positively80 gobbled, and so did that disgusting Frenchman with the pink head. I suppose she's mad because she told you the truth for once, upstairs? I'm glad. If some one had told you the truth before, it would have been better for everybody."
Upon which cryptic81 utterance82 she flung herself from the room, but popped in her head again for a last shot:
"Of course, if the doctor asks me why poor Aunt ever married you, I shan't quite know what to say—it's the only queer symptom she's ever shown, to my knowledge."
Sir Arthur sank into the armchair, speechless. Presently he sought for his handkerchief, and, with an exhausted83 hand, passed it across his beaded forehead. The ring of Lady Aspasia's laugh floated across the hall through the door which the girl had left ajar. The sound of that cheery, heart-whole mirth, the thought of that comfortable, healthy, everyday, high-born woman heightened the sense of his own utter dejection. Had he not made an irremediable mistake after all?
Meanwhile Aspasia, with an unreasoning sense that she could not too soon be at Rosamond's side to protect her, took the oak stairs at a canter, pausing merely at the first landing to choke down the sobs84 with which her breast was bursting.
"I only hope and trust Muhammed will be quick about it, and stick Runkle to-night," she said to herself, mopping her eyes fiercely, her pocket-handkerchief tightly rolled into a ball.
At her aunt's door she met Jani, who checked the headlong approach with brown finger on lip and long-drawn: "Hush!"
* * * * *
In the drawing-room Raymond Bethune, a bad third, heard the ring of Aspasia's voice and the hammer of her flying heels on the stairs, and realised, with keen disappointment, that she was not coming back. He had been longing for the instant of her return for a twofold reason—his devouring85 anxiety concerning Lady Gerardine, and the desire to exchange a few last quiet parting words with the girl herself, since he intended to walk out of the Old Ancient House, unobtrusively, with the coming day.
As the patter of little feet died away, however, he rose stiffly from his neglected corner, and, approaching the jocular pair by the fireside, looked down at them with a sort of dignified86 awkwardness until they would vouchsafe87 some consciousness of his approach.
The Frenchman, after struggling for a minute between his courtesy to the lady, who went on pouring a country-house story into his ear, and what was due to the patiently waiting gentleman, at last laid a warning finger on Lady Aspasia's wrist.
"Je crois que Monsieur désire nous parler," he said engagingly.
"Oh," cried the mistress of Melbury Towers, and gave an insolent half-turn of her smooth head, a half-twist of her handsome eyes in the direction of Bethune, as an indication that he might say his say and have done with it.
"I thought I'd bid you good night," said the man, stolidly88.
"Comment, mon cher major," cried the polite Chatelard, springing to his feet, "already?"
"I'm going in the morning," went on Bethune, in the same level tones; "I've got to pack." His words and glance were fixed on the indifferent lady. "I think you were kind enough to say something about my coming to Melbury Towers for Christmas. I am sorry I can't accept."
Lady Aspasia's eyebrows were raised a fraction of a line.
"So sorry," she said cheerfully. "I'm sure Sir Arthur would have liked to see more of you."
She did not offer him her hand, or turn her glance upon him. He bowed in the direction of her pronounced profile, and turned to find himself effusively89 seized by the globe-trotter.
"Comment, cher major," cried the latter in tones of unaffected disappointment; "you leave to-morrow? And I who had so much pleasure in the renewing of our acquaintance. It is not possible we part thus."
"Que diable," the psychologist was saying to himself, "c'est comme ?a que l'on arrange ces petites affaires-là en Angleterre? Le mari arrive, vous trouve en tête-à-tête, et l'amant part. Voilà tout. C'est inou?! Je m'attendais, je l'avoue, à un dénouement plus palpitant. Mais malgré tout..." Bethune had gone, without a word. The door was closed. M. Chatelard was resuming his seat: "N'y-a-t'il pas, quand même, quelque chose de fort intéressant dans cette simple solution?—oui, un caractère exclusivement Britannique dans cette simplicité; comme qui dirait un vestige90, au milieu91 du désordre même, de la vertu puritaine qui tenait si fort aux apparences, de cette horreur du shocking si profondément enracinée dans l'Anglo-Saxon?"
As he raised his musing92 eye, he found Lady Aspasia's bright grey orb93 fixed upon him with a world of meaning.
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1
coaxing
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的现在分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱；“锻炼”效应 | |
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insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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3
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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7
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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8
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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9
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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10
privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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11
tout
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| v.推销，招徕；兜售；吹捧，劝诱 | |
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12
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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13
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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14
tartly
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| adv.辛辣地，刻薄地 | |
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15
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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16
bristle
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| v.（毛发）直立，气势汹汹，发怒；n.硬毛发 | |
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17
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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18
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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19
dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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20
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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21
wriggles
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| n.蠕动，扭动( wriggle的名词复数 )v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的第三人称单数 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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22
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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pate
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| n.头顶；光顶 | |
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24
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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25
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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26
soften
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| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
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27
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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29
unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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30
fluffy
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| adj.有绒毛的，空洞的 | |
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31
pouting
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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32
lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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33
moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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34
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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35
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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36
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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37
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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38
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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39
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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40
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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41
perturbed
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| adj.烦燥不安的v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42
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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43
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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44
beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
smokers
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| 吸烟者( smoker的名词复数 ) | |
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46
portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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47
exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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48
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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49
moth
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| n.蛾，蛀虫 | |
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50
throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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51
vindictive
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| adj.有报仇心的，怀恨的，惩罚的 | |
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52
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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53
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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54
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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55
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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56
bide
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| v.忍耐；等候；住 | |
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57
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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58
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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59
quailed
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| 害怕，发抖，畏缩( quail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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60
devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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61
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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62
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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63
speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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64
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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judicially
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| 依法判决地，公平地 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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68
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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69
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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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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71
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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rivulets
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| n.小河，小溪( rivulet的名词复数 ) | |
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74
relentless
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| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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surgical
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| adj.外科的，外科医生的，手术上的 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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guzzling
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| v.狂吃暴饮，大吃大喝( guzzle的现在分词 ) | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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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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cryptic
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| adj.秘密的，神秘的，含义模糊的 | |
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utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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83
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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84
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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85
devouring
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| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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vouchsafe
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| v.惠予，准许 | |
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stolidly
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| adv.迟钝地，神经麻木地 | |
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effusively
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| adv.变溢地，热情洋溢地 | |
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90
vestige
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| n.痕迹，遗迹，残余 | |
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91
milieu
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| n.环境；出身背景；(个人所处的)社会环境 | |
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92
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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orb
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| n.太阳；星球；v.弄圆；成球形 | |
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