"Thank you!" laughed John Armitage, to whom he had spoken. "You have lost none of your old amiability4; but for a renowned5 diplomat6, you are remarkably7 frank. When I called on you in Paris, a year ago, I was able to render you—I believe you admitted it—a slight service."
Count Ferdinand von Stroebel bowed slightly, but did not take his eyes from the young man who sat opposite him in his rooms at the Hotel Monte Rosa in Geneva. On the table between them stood an open despatch8 box, and about it lay a number of packets of papers which the old gentleman, with characteristic caution, had removed to his own side of the table before admitting his caller. He was a burly old man, with massive shoulders and a great head thickly covered with iron-gray hair.
He trusted no one, and this accounted for his presence in Geneva in March, of the year 1903, whither he had gone to receive the report of the secret agents whom he had lately despatched to Paris on an errand of peculiar9 delicacy10. The agents had failed in their mission, and Von Stroebel was not tolerant of failure. Perhaps if he had known that within a week the tapers11 would burn about his bier in Saint Stephen's Cathedral, at Vienna, while his life and public services would be estimated in varying degrees of admiration12 or execration13 by the newspapers of Europe, he might not have dealt so harshly with his hard-worked spies.
It was not often that the light in the old man's eyes was as gentle as now. He had sent his secret agents away and was to return to Vienna on the following day. The young man whom he now entertained in his apartments received his whole attention. He picked up the card which lay on the table and scrutinized14 it critically, while his eyes lighted with sudden humor.
The card was a gentleman's carte de visite, and bore the name John
Armitage.
Where did you get it?" demanded the minister.
"I rather liked the sound of it, so I had the cards made," replied the young man. "Besides, it's English, and I pass readily for an Englishman. I have quite got used to it."
"Which is not particularly creditable; but it's probably just as well so."
He drew closer to the table, and his keen old eyes snapped with the intentness of his thought. The hands he clasped on the table were those of age, and it was pathetically evident that he folded them to hide their slight palsy.
"I am not. I am anything but well. I am an old man, and I have had no rest for twenty years."
"It is the penalty of greatness. It is Austria's good fortune that you have devoted17 yourself to the affairs of government. I have read—only to-day, in the Contemporary Review—an admirable tribute to your sagacity in handling the Servian affair. Your work was masterly. I followed it from the beginning with deepest interest."
The old gentleman bowed half-unconsciously, for his thoughts were far away, as the vague stare in his small, shrewd eyes indicated.
"But you are here for rest—one comes to Geneva at this season for nothing else."
"What brings you here?" asked the old man with sudden energy. "If the papers you gave me in Paris are forgeries18 and you are waiting—"
"Yes; assuming that, what should I be waiting for?"
"If you are waiting for events—for events! If you expect something to happen!"
Armitage laughed at the old gentleman's earnest manner, asked if he might smoke, and lighted a cigarette.
"Waiting doesn't suit me. I thought you understood that. I was not born for the waiting list. You see, I have strong hands—and my wits are—let us say—average!"
Armitage searchingly.
"Is it true"—he turned again and glanced about—"is it positively20 true that the Archduke Karl is dead?"
"Yes; quite true. There is absolutely no doubt of it," said Armitage, meeting the old man's eyes steadily21.
"The report that he is still living somewhere in North America is persistent22. We hear it frequently in Vienna; I have heard it since you told me that story and gave me those papers in Paris last year."
"I am aware of that," replied John Armitage; "but I told you the truth. He died in a Canadian lumber23 camp. We were in the north hunting—you may recall that he was fond of that sort of thing."
"Yes, I remember; there was nothing else he did so well," growled Von
Stroebel.
"And the packet I gave you—"
The old man nodded.
"—that packet contained the Archduke Karl's sworn arraignment24 of his wife. It is of great importance, indeed, to Francis, his worthless son, or supposed son, who may present himself for coronation one of these days!"
"Not with Karl appearing in all parts of the world, never quite dead, never quite alive—and his son Frederick Augustus lurking25 with him in the shadows. Who knows whether they are dead?"
"I am the only person on earth in a position to make that clear," said
John Armitage.
"Then you should give me the documents."
"No; I prefer to keep them. I assure you that I have sworn proof of the death of the Archduke Karl, and of his son Frederick Augustus. Those papers are in a box in the Bronx Loan and Trust Company, in New York City."
"I should have them; I must have them!" thundered the old man.
"In due season; but not just now. In fact, I have regretted parting with that document I gave you in Paris. It is safer in America than in Vienna. If you please, I should like to have it again, sir."
The palsy in the old man's hands had increased, and he strove to control his agitation26; but fear had never been reckoned among his weaknesses, and he turned stormily upon Armitage.
"That packet is lost, I tell you!" he blurted27, as though it were something that he had frequently explained before. "It was stolen from under my very nose only a month ago! That's what I'm here for—my agents are after the thief, and I came to Geneva to meet them, to find out why they have not caught him. Do you imagine that I travel for pleasure at my age, Mr. John Armitage?"
Count von Stroebel's bluster28 was merely a cloak to hide his confusion—a cloak, it may be said, to which he did not often resort; but in this case he watched Armitage warily29. He clearly expected some outburst of indignation from the young man, and he was unfeignedly relieved when Armitage, after opening and closing his eyes quickly, reached for a fresh cigarette and lighted it with the deft30 ease of habit.
"The packet has been stolen," he observed calmly; "whom do you suspect of taking it?"
The old man leaned upon the table heavily.
"The suggestion is not dismaying. Francis would not know an opportunity if it offered."
"But his mother—she is the devil!" blurted the old man.
"Pray drop that," said Armitage in a tone that caused the old man to look at him with a new scrutiny32. "I want the paper back for the very reason that it contains that awful indictment33 of her. I have been uncomfortable ever since I gave it to you; and I came to ask you for it that I might keep it safe in my own hands. But the document is lost,—am I to understand that Francis has it?"
"Not yet! But Rambaud has it, and Rambaud and Francis are as thick as thieves."
"I don't know Rambaud. The name is unfamiliar34."
"He has a dozen names—one for every capital. He even operates in Washington, I have heard. He's a blackmailer35, who aims high—a broker36 in secrets, a scandal-peddler. He's a bad lot, I tell you. I've had my best men after him, and they've just been here to report another failure. If you have nothing better to do—" began the old man.
"Yes; that packet must be recovered," answered Armitage. "If your agents have failed at the job it may be worth my while to look for it."
His quiet acceptance of the situation irritated the minister.
"You entertain me, John Armitage! You speak of that packet as though it were a pound of tea. Francis and his friends, Winkelried and Rambaud, are not chasers of fireflies, I would have you know. If the Archduke and his son are dead, then a few more deaths and Francis would rule the Empire."
John Armitage and Count von Stroebel stared at each other in silence.
"Events! Events!" muttered the old man presently, and he rested one of his hands upon the despatch box, as though it were a symbol of authority and power.
"Events!" the young man murmured.
"Events!" repeated Count von Stroebel without humor. "A couple of deaths and there you see him, on the ground and quite ready. Karl was a genius, therefore he could not be king. He threw away about five hundred years of work that had been done for him by other people—and he cajoled you into sharing his exile. You threw away your life for him! Bah! But you seem sane37 enough!"
"Why the devil don't you go to Vienna and set yourself up like a gentleman?" demanded the premier.
"Like a gentleman?" repeated Armitage. "It is too late. I should die in Vienna in a week. Moreover, I am dead, and it is well, when one has attained39 that beatific40 advantage, to stay dead."
"Francis is a troublesome blackguard," declared the old man. "I wish to God he would form the dying habit, so that I might have a few years in peace; but he is forever turning up in some mischief41. And what can you do about it? Can we kick him out of the army without a scandal? Don't you suppose he could go to Budapest tomorrow and make things interesting for us if he pleased? He's as full of treason as he can stick, I tell you."
Armitage nodded and smiled.
"I dare say," he said in English; and when the old statesman glared at him he said in German: "No doubt you are speaking the truth."
"Of course I speak the truth; but this is a matter for action, and not for discussion. That packet was stolen by intention, and not by chance, John Armitage!"
There was a slight immaterial sound in the hall, and the old prime minister slipped from German to French without changing countenance42 as he continued:
"We have enough troubles in Austria without encouraging treason. If Rambaud and his chief, Winkelried, could make a king of Francis, the brokerage—the commission—would be something handsome; and Winkelried and Rambaud are clever men."
"I know of Winkelried. The continental43 press has given much space to him of late; but Rambaud is a new name."
"He is a skilled hand. He is the most daring scoundrel in Europe."
"I will show you the gentleman's pleasant countenance," said the minister, and he threw open a leather portfolio46 and drew from it a small photograph which he extended to Armitage, who glanced at it carelessly and then with sudden interest.
"Rambaud!" he exclaimed.
"That's his name in Vienna. In Paris he is something else. I will furnish you a list of his noms de guerre."
"Thank you. I should like all the information you care to give me; but it may amuse you to know that I have seen the gentleman before."
"That is possible," remarked the old man, who never evinced surprise in any circumstances.
"I expect to see him here within a few days."
Count von Stroebel held up his empty glass and studied it attentively47, while he waited for Armitage to explain why he expected to see Rambaud in Geneva.
"He is interested in a certain young woman. She reached here yesterday; and Rambaud, alias Chauvenet, is quite likely to arrive within a day or so."
"Jules Chauvenet is the correct name. I must inform my men," said the minister.
"You wish to arrest him?"
"You ought to know me better than that, Mr. John Armitage! Of course I shall not arrest him! But I must get that packet. I can't have it peddled48 all over Europe, and I can't advertise my business by having him arrested here. If I could catch him once in Vienna I should know what to do with him! He and Winkelried got hold of our plans in that Bulgarian affair last year and checkmated me. He carries his wares49 to the best buyers—Berlin and St. Petersburg. So there's a woman, is there? I've found that there usually is!"
"There's a very charming young American girl, to be more exact."
The old man growled and eyed Armitage sharply, while Armitage studied the photograph.
"I hope you are not meditating50 a preposterous51 marriage. Go back where you belong, make a proper marriage and wait—"
"Events!" and John Armitage laughed. "I tell you, sir, that waiting is not my forte52. That's what I like about America; they're up and at it over there; the man who waits is lost."
"I still owe allegiance to the Schomburg crown, so don't imagine you are hitting me. But the swine are industrious55 and energetic. Who knows but that John Armitage might become famous among them—in politics, in finance! But for the deplorable accident of foreign birth he might become president of the United States. As it is, there are thousands of other offices worth getting—why not?"
"I tell you not to be a fool. You are young and—fairly clever—"
Armitage laughed at the reluctance56 of the count's praise.
"Thank you, with all my heart!"
"Go back where you belong and you will have no regrets. Something may happen—who can tell? Events—events—if a man will watch and wait and study events—"
"Bless me! They organize clubs in every American village for the study of events," laughed Armitage; then he changed his tone. "To be sure, the Bourbons have studied events these many years—a pretty spectacle, too."
"Carrion57! Carrion!" almost screamed the old man, half-rising in his seat. "Don't mention those scavengers to me! Bah! The very thought of them makes me sick. But"—he gulped58 down more of the brandy—"where and how do you live?"
"Where? I own a cattle ranch59 in Montana and since the Archduke's death I have lived there. He carried about fifty thousand pounds to America with him. He took care that I should get what was left when he died—and, I am almost afraid to tell you that I have actually augmented60 my inheritance! Just before I left I bought a place in Virginia to be near Washington when I got tired of the ranch."
"Washington!" snorted the count. "In due course it will be the storm center of the world."
"You read the wrong American newspapers," laughed Armitage.
They were silent for a moment, in which each was busy with his own thoughts; then the count remarked, in as amiable a tone as he ever used:
"Your French is first rate. Do you speak English as well?"
"As readily as German, I think. You may recall that I had an English tutor, and maybe I did not tell you in that interview at Paris that I had spent a year at Harvard University."
"What the devil did you do that for?" growled Von Stroebel.
"From curiosity, or ambition, as you like. I was in Cambridge at the law school for a year before the Archduke died. That was three years ago. I am twenty-eight, as you may remember. I am detaining you; I have no wish to rake over the past; but I am sorry—I am very sorry we can't meet on some common ground."
"I ask you to abandon this democratic nonsense and come back and make a man of yourself. You might go far—very far; but this democracy has hold of you like a disease."
"What you ask is impossible. It is just as impossible now as it was when we discussed it in Paris last year. To sit down in Vienna and learn how to keep that leaning tower of an Empire from tumbling down like a stack of bricks—it does not appeal to me. You have spent a laborious61 life in defending a silly medieval tradition of government. You are using all the apparatus62 of the modern world to perpetuate63 an ideal that is as old and dead as the Rameses dynasty. Every time you use the telegraph to send orders in an emperor's name you commit an anachronism."
The count frowned and growled.
"Don't talk to me like that. It is not amusing."
"No; it is not funny. To see men like you fetching and carrying for dull kings, who would drop through the gallows64 or go to planting turnips65 without your brains—it does not appeal to my sense of humor or to my imagination."
"You put it coarsely," remarked the old man grimly. "I shall perhaps have a statue when I am gone."
"Quite likely; and mobs will rendezvous66 in its shadow to march upon the royal palaces. If I were coming back to Europe I should go in for something more interesting than furnishing brains for sickly kings."
"I dare say! Very likely you would persuade them to proclaim democracy and brotherhood67 everywhere."
"On the other hand, I should become king myself."
"Don't be a fool, Mr. John Armitage. Much as you have grieved me, I should hate to see you in a madhouse."
"My faculties68, poor as they are, were never clearer. I repeat that if I were going to furnish the brains for an empire I should ride in the state carriage myself, and not be merely the driver on the box, who keeps the middle of the road and looks out for sharp corners. Here is a plan ready to my hand. Let me find that lost document, appear in Vienna and announce myself Frederick Augustus, the son of the Archduke Karl! I knew both men intimately. You may remember that Frederick and I were born in the same month. I, too, am Frederick Augustus! We passed commonly in America as brothers. Many of the personal effects of Karl and Augustus are in my keeping—by the Archduke's own wish. You have spent your life studying human nature, and you know as well as I do that half the world would believe my story if I said I was the Emperor's nephew. In the uneasy and unstable69 condition of your absurd empire I should be hailed as a diversion, and then—events, events!"
Count von Stroebel listened with narrowing eyes, and his lips moved in an effort to find words with which to break in upon this impious declaration. When Armitage ceased speaking the old man sank back and glared at him.
"Karl did his work well. You are quite mad. You will do well to go back to America before the police discover you."
"I do not mean to trouble or annoy you. Please pardon me! Let us be friends, if we can be nothing more."
The old minister sighed deeply. His fingers touched the despatch box as though by habit. It represented power, majesty72 and the iron game of government. The young man watched him eagerly.
The heavy, tremulous hands of Count von Stroebel passed back and forth73 over the box caressingly75. Suddenly he bent forward and spoke3 with a new and gentler tone and manner.
"I have given my life, my whole life, as you have said, to one service—to uphold one idea. You have spoken of that work with contempt. History, I believe, will reckon it justly."
"If you would do something for me—for me—do something for Austria, do something for my country and yours! You have wits; I dare say you have courage. I don't care what that service may be; I don't care where or how you perform it. I am not so near gone as you may think. I know well enough that they are waiting for me to die; but I am in no hurry to afford my enemies that pleasure. But stop this babble77 of yours about democracy. Do something for Austria—for the Empire that I have held here under my hand these difficult years—then take your name again—and you will find that kings can be as just and wise as mobs."
"For the Empire—something for the Empire?" murmured the young man, wondering.
Count Ferdinand von Stroebel rose.
"You will accept the commission—I am quite sure you will accept. I leave on an early train, and I shall not see you again." As he took Armitage's hand he scrutinized him once more with particular care; there was a lingering caress74 in his touch as he detained the young man for an instant; then he sighed heavily.
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收听单词发音
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1
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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premier
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| adj.首要的；n.总理，首相 | |
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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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amiability
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| n.和蔼可亲的，亲切的，友善的 | |
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renowned
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| adj.著名的，有名望的，声誉鹊起的 | |
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diplomat
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| n.外交官，外交家；能交际的人，圆滑的人 | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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despatch
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| n./v.(dispatch)派遣；发送；n.急件；新闻报道 | |
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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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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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tapers
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| （长形物体的）逐渐变窄( taper的名词复数 )； 微弱的光； 极细的蜡烛 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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execration
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| n.诅咒，念咒，憎恶 | |
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scrutinized
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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alias
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| n.化名；别名；adv.又名 | |
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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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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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forgeries
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| 伪造( forgery的名词复数 )； 伪造的文件、签名等 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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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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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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lumber
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| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
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arraignment
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| n.提问，传讯，责难 | |
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lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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blurted
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bluster
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| v.猛刮；怒冲冲的说；n.吓唬，怒号；狂风声 | |
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warily
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| adv.留心地 | |
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deft
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| adj.灵巧的，熟练的（a deft hand 能手） | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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indictment
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| n.起诉；诉状 | |
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unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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blackmailer
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| 敲诈者，勒索者 | |
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broker
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| n.中间人，经纪人；v.作为中间人来安排 | |
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sane
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| adj.心智健全的，神志清醒的，明智的，稳健的 | |
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outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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40
beatific
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| adj.快乐的，有福的 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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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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continental
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| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
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44
flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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45
sipped
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46
portfolio
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| n.公事包；文件夹；大臣及部长职位 | |
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47
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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48
peddled
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| （沿街）叫卖( peddle的过去式和过去分词 )； 兜售； 宣传； 散播 | |
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49
wares
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| n. 货物, 商品 | |
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50
meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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51
preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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52
forte
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| n.长处，擅长；adj.(音乐)强音的 | |
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53
rumbled
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| 发出隆隆声，发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 轰鸣着缓慢行进； 发现…的真相； 看穿（阴谋） | |
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bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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industrious
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| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
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reluctance
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| n.厌恶，讨厌，勉强，不情愿 | |
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carrion
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| n.腐肉 | |
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58
gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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ranch
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| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
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Augmented
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| adj.增音的 动词augment的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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laborious
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| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
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apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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perpetuate
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| v.使永存，使永记不忘 | |
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gallows
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| n.绞刑架，绞台 | |
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65
turnips
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| 芜青( turnip的名词复数 )； 芜菁块根； 芜菁甘蓝块根； 怀表 | |
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66
rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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unstable
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| adj.不稳定的，易变的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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71
chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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75
caressingly
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| 爱抚地，亲切地 | |
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76
gainsay
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| v.否认，反驳 | |
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babble
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| v.含糊不清地说，胡言乱语地说，儿语 | |
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