At the moment at which our story opens, the rooms in which in the old days portly Knickerbockers indulged in stately feasts are crowded with picturesque2 waifs from the Old World, who have, for a variety of reasons, crossed the Atlantic to air their woes3 in a freer atmosphere than surrounded them at home. A table-d’hôte dinner, greasy4, cheap, and plentiful5, is the magnet that has drawn6 from the East Side many of its most daring spirits, men with great grievances7 and enormous appetites. While emphasizing the former and appeasing8 the latter, these men grow[4] loquacious9 and blow white clouds of cigarette smoke toward the ceilings; and the dinner nears its end.
It is with a group of four foreign malcontents that we must seat ourselves in spirit, for they have a mighty10 matter under discussion, and in their conversation lies the explanation of certain startling episodes that occurred in the metropolis11 last year, the details of which have not been made known hitherto either to the public or to the police.
“You feel sure, Posadowski,” a frowzy-headed, full-bearded man was saying in the purest Rexanian, a dialect spoken by only a few hundred East-siders, “you feel sure that you have the dates exactly as they should be?”
“I will read you the letter, Rukacs, and you can make your own calculations,” answered Posadowski, a better-groomed man than his companions, nearing middle age, but with a fresh complexion12 and a clear, gray eye that could look like ice or gleam with fire, as the spirit of the man ordained13. His companions bent14 toward him eagerly, as he took from his pocket a letter bearing a foreign postmark. Lighting15 a fresh cigarette, Posadowski read, in a low voice, the following epistle:
“Dear Brother: Strange things have happened in Rexania. The crown prince has left here in disguise. Three men only know this, the king, the prime minister, and myself. If they knew that I held their secret, this would be my last letter—eh, my friends? But they will never suspect me—the best servant in the palace—of communicating with such rebellious16 rascals17 as you, Posadowski[5] and Rukacs and the rest of you. The king was bitterly opposed to Prince Carlo’s journey. But Carlo is no longer a boy. He is a clever, active-minded, studious man, who might have been one of us if he had not been born a crown prince. He has great influence over Prime Minister Fejeravy, and persuaded him to plead with the king. Carlo has set out for America, and travels incognito18. I have risked my life to tell you that he will reach New York on the Wiendam, under the title of Count Szalaki. He has promised to return as soon as he has crossed the continent and visited Chicago and San Francisco. The fact is that the prince is anxious to see for himself how a country looks that is governed by its people. Poor fellow! I have long felt sorry for him. Upon his firmness at his father’s death will depend the maintenance of the Rexanian monarchy19, and I feel sure that he is only half-hearted in his assumed regard for royalty20. But I dare not waste more time on this hasty letter. I am obliged to spend nearly all my time quieting suspicions that I fear I may have aroused in this palatial21 hotbed of treachery and intrigue22. Nevertheless, my brothers, reflect on this: fate has placed a great opportunity in your power. The king is old and failing. If the crown prince is not at hand when the king dies—well, there will be no more kings in Rexania. The people love the prince; but if he is not here when the sceptre falls from his father’s hand he will never be crowned. It is in your control—the future of Rexania. I and my fellow-republicans—we are very quiet at present—leave it to you to make Rexania free. If the king dies and the crown[6] prince is not here, no power on earth can prevent the republic. My love and devotion to you all. Courage! We trust to you.”
The faces of the conspirators23 had turned pale as Posadowski had slowly and impressively emphasized the pregnant sentences of the revolutionist who defied death at the king’s right hand.
“He is magnificent,” exclaimed Posnovitch, the oldest member of the quartette, a gigantic man, with picturesque gray locks.
“Yes. How little we have to fear, compared with a spy who knows the king’s secret thoughts and who lives under Fejeravy’s eye,” remarked Rukacs. “But tell me, Posadowski, have you a plan of action in your mind?”
“There is only one thing to do,” said Ludovics, a small, black-whiskered man with feverish24 eyes and nervous manner. “Count—Count Szalaki, I think, was the name he took, was it not?—must not leave this country alive.”
“Hush!” whispered Posadowski, imperatively25, as a waiter refilled their coffee-cups. “You were always reckless, Ludovics. There may be a way open to us that does not require bloodshed. The crown prince, we are told, is not a monarchist at heart.”
“Don’t be deceived by that fact—if it is a fact,” returned Ludovics, hotly. “He won’t abdicate26. Whatever may be his inner convictions, he has an hereditary27 liking28 for a throne, and I’m sure that his visit to this country will destroy all fondness that he may have begotten29, in his imagination, for republics.”
[7]
His companions looked at the speaker suspiciously. Was he growing reactionary30 in his views? was the question that came into their minds.
“Don’t mistake me,” he continued, noting their look of consternation31. “I am as good a republican as walks the earth, but I don’t think a surface view of this country will have an influence upon the crown prince tending toward a great renunciation on his part. He will return to Rexania more determined32 than he is at present to rule. I tell you, my brothers, the prince must be destroyed, if he won’t be converted.”
There was silence for a time. Finally, Posnovitch beckoned33 to a waiter and ordered brandy for the quartette.
“Posadowski, what do you propose?” asked Rukacs, smiling as he glanced confidingly34 at the real leader of the group.
The clear-eyed Rexanian gazed thoughtfully at his companions. “Our steps must be guided by circumstances,” he remarked, guardedly. “The Wiendam is due here on the 7th. It is now the 5th. One of us must make it his duty to shadow the prince and keep informed of his every movement.”
“You’re the man to do it, Posadowski,” exclaimed Posnovitch, with conviction. “You have become more Americanized than the rest of us, and won’t create suspicion. Will you accept the responsibility?”
Posadowski sat silent for a time, puffing35 cigarette smoke thoughtfully and looking at his companions, who were watching him eagerly.
“Perhaps you are right, Posnovitch. I see no reason why I should not take the prince[8] in tow. But let me impress several things upon you all. Listen. We must arrange a plan whereby I can summon you here at an hour’s notice. I have in mind a scheme that will require firmness on our part, but is not attended with any great danger. Not that any of you fear that. We all got used to it in the revolutionary days, ten years ago. Rexania was not a bed of roses at that time, was it, Rukacs? But to the point. That brandy has made me sentimental36, and I’m tempted37 to dwell on the past rather than the future. Now, my brothers, if you really wish to leave this matter to me for the time being, I will do my best to satisfy you all. Our aim is simply this: to keep the crown prince in this country—which means, of course, within our immediate38 vicinity—until the king dies. An interregnum of even one day would be fatal to monarchy in Rexania. To-morrow night I will tell you all the details of my plan. Meanwhile, let us be seen together as little as possible. Posnovitch, come to me in the morning. I have a journey that I want you to make into Westchester County. And be careful of the brandy to-night. You must have a clear head to-morrow to carry out your part of the plan. Do you understand me?”
“Well enough to keep sober,” answered the elderly giant, good-naturedly.
“And so good-night, my brothers,” said Posadowski, as he arose to leave the room. To each of them he gave his hand, and before he turned to go bent down to them and in solemn tones cried, feelingly, “God bless Rexania and make her free!”
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1
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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2
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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3
woes
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| 困境( woe的名词复数 )； 悲伤； 我好苦哇； 某人就要倒霉 | |
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4
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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plentiful
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| adj.富裕的，丰富的 | |
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6
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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7
grievances
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| n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 )；苦衷；不满；牢骚 | |
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8
appeasing
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| 安抚，抚慰( appease的现在分词 )； 绥靖（满足另一国的要求以避免战争） | |
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9
loquacious
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| adj.多嘴的，饶舌的 | |
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10
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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11
metropolis
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| n.首府；大城市 | |
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12
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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13
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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14
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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15
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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rascals
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| 流氓( rascal的名词复数 )； 无赖； （开玩笑说法）淘气的人（尤指小孩）； 恶作剧的人 | |
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18
incognito
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| adv.匿名地；n.隐姓埋名；adj.化装的，用假名的，隐匿姓名身份的 | |
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19
monarchy
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| n.君主，最高统治者；君主政体，君主国 | |
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royalty
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| n.皇家，皇族 | |
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palatial
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| adj.宫殿般的，宏伟的 | |
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intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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conspirators
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| n.共谋者，阴谋家( conspirator的名词复数 ) | |
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24
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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imperatively
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| adv.命令式地 | |
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abdicate
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| v.让位，辞职，放弃 | |
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hereditary
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| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
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28
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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29
begotten
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| v.为…之生父( beget的过去分词 )；产生，引起 | |
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reactionary
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| n.反动者，反动主义者；adj.反动的，反动主义的，反对改革的 | |
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31
consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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32
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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33
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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confidingly
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| adv.信任地 | |
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35
puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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36
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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37
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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38
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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