Present, Past--and Future?
The details of my return home can have but little interest. I wentstraight to the Tyrol and spent a quiet fortnight--mostly on my back, for asevere chill developed itself; and I was also the victim of a nervousreaction, which made me weak as a baby. As soon as I had reached myquarters, I sent an apparently1 careless postcard to my brother, announcingmy good health and prospective2 return. That would serve to satisfy theinquiries as to my whereabouts, which were probably still vexing3 thePrefect of the Police of Strelsau. I let my moustache and imperial growagain; and as hair comes quickly on my face, they were respectable,though not luxuriant, by the time that I landed myself in Paris and calledon my friend George Featherly. My interview with him was chieflyremarkable for the number of unwilling5 but necessary falsehoods that Itold; and I rallied him unmercifully when he told me that he had made uphis mind that I had gone in the track of Madame de Mauban to Strelsau.
The lady, it appeared, was back in Paris, but was living in great seclusion-afact for which gossip found no difficulty in accounting6. Did not all theworld know of the treachery and death of Duke Michael? Nevertheless,George bade Bertram Bertrand be of good cheer, "for," said he flippantly,"a live poet is better than a dead duke." Then he turned on me and asked:
"What have you been doing to your moustache?""To tell the truth," I answered, assuming a sly air, "a man now and thenhas reasons for wishing to alter his appearance. But it's coming on verywell again.""What? Then I wasn't so far out! If not the fair Antoinette, there was acharmer?""There is always a charmer," said I, sententiously.
But George would not be satisfied till he had wormed out of me (hetook much pride in his ingenuity) an absolutely imaginary love-affair,attended with the proper soupcon of scandal, which had kept me all thistime in the peaceful regions of the Tyrol. In return for this narrative7, George regaled me with a great deal of what he called "insideinformation" (known only to diplomatists), as to the true course of eventsin Ruritania, the plots and counterplots. In his opinion, he told me, with asignificant nod, there was more to be said for Black Michael than thepublic supposed; and he hinted at a well-founded suspicion that themysterious prisoner of Zenda, concerning whom a good many paragraphshad appeared, was not a man at all, but (here I had much ado not to smile)a woman disguised as a man; and that strife8 between the King and hisbrother for this imaginary lady's favour was at the bottom of their quarrel.
"Perhaps it was Madame de Mauban herself," I suggested.
"No!" said George decisively, "Antoinette de Mauban was jealous ofher, and betrayed the duke to the King for that reason. And, to confirmwhat I say, it's well known that the Princess Flavia is now extremely coldto the King, after having been most affectionate."At this point I changed the subject, and escaped from George's"inspired" delusions9. But if diplomatists never know anything more thanthey had succeeded in finding out in this instance, they appear to me to besomewhat expensive luxuries.
While in Paris I wrote to Antoinette, though I did not venture to callupon her. I received in return a very affecting letter, in which she assuredme that the King's generosity10 and kindness, no less than her regard for me,bound her conscience to absolute secrecy11. She expressed the intention ofsettling in the country, and withdrawing herself entirely12 from society.
Whether she carried out her designs, I have never heard; but as I have notmet her, or heard news of her up to this time, it is probable that she did.
There is no doubt that she was deeply attached to the Duke of Strelsau;and her conduct at the time of his death proved that no knowledge of theman's real character was enough to root her regard for him out of herheart.
I had one more battle left to fight--a battle that would, I knew, besevere, and was bound to end in my complete defeat. Was I not back fromthe Tyrol, without having made any study of its inhabitants, institutions,scenery, fauna13, flora14, or other features? Had I not simply wasted my timein my usual frivolous15, good-for-nothing way? That was the aspect of the matter which, I was obliged to admit, would present itself to my sister-inlaw;and against a verdict based on such evidence, I had really no defenceto offer. It may be supposed, then, that I presented myself in Park Lane ina shamefaced, sheepish fashion. On the whole, my reception was not soalarming as I had feared. It turned out that I had done, not what Rosewished, but--the next best thing-- what she prophesied16. She had declaredthat I should make no notes, record no observations,gather no materials.
My brother, on the other hand, had been weak enough to maintain that aserious resolve had at length animated17 me.
When I returned empty-handed, Rose was so occupied in triumphingover Burlesdon that she let me down quite easily, devoting the greater partof her reproaches to my failure to advertise my friends of my whereabouts.
"We've wasted a lot of time trying to find you," she said.
"I know you have," said I. "Half our ambassadors have led weary liveson my account. George Featherly told me so. But why should you havebeen anxious? I can take care of myself.""Oh, it wasn't that," she cried scornfully, "but I wanted to tell youabout Sir Jacob Borrodaile. You know, he's got an Embassy --at least, hewill have in a month--and he wrote to say he hoped you would go withhim.""Where's he going to?""He's going to succeed Lord Topham at Strelsau," said she. "Youcouldn't have a nicer place, short of Paris.""Strelsau! H'm!" said I, glancing at my brother.
"Oh, THAT doesn't matter!" exclaimed Rose impatiently. "Now, youwill go, won't you?""I don't know that I care about it!""Oh, you're too exasperating18!""And I don't think I can go to Strelsau. My dear Rose, would it be-suitable?""Oh, nobody remembers that horrid19 old story now."Upon this, I took out of my pocket a portrait of the King of Ruritania.
It had been taken a month or two before he ascended20 the throne. She couldnot miss my point when I said, putting it into her hands:
"In case you've not seen, or not noticed, a picture of Rudolf V, there heis. Don't you think they might recall the story, if I appeared at the Court ofRuritania?"My sister-in-law looked at the portrait, and then at me.
"Good gracious!" she said, and flung the photograph down on thetable.
"What do you say, Bob?" I asked.
Burlesdon got up, went to a corner of the room, and searched in a heapof newspapers. Presently he came back with a copy of the IllustratedLondon News. Opening the paper, he displayed a double-page engravingof the Coronation of Rudolf V at Strelsau. The photograph and the picturehe laid side by side. I sat at the table fronting them; and, as I looked, Igrew absorbed. My eye travelled from my own portrait to Sapt, toStrakencz, to the rich robes of the Cardinal21, to Black Michael's face, to thestately figure of the princess by his side. Long I looked and eagerly. I wasroused by my brother's hand on my shoulder. He was gazing down at mewith a puzzled expression.
"It's a remarkable4 likeness22, you see," said I. "I really think I had betternot go to Ruritania."Rose, though half convinced, would not abandon her position.
"It's just an excuse," she said pettishly23. "You don't want to do anything.
Why, you might become an ambassador!""I don't think I want to be an ambassador," said I.
"It's more than you ever will be," she retorted.
That is very likely true, but it is not more than I have been.
The idea of being an ambassador could scarcely dazzle me. I had beena king!
So pretty Rose left us in dudgeon; and Burlesdon, lighting24 a cigarette,looked at me still with that curious gaze.
"That picture in the paper--" he said.
"Well, what of it? It shows that the King of Ruritania and your humbleservant are as like as two peas."My brother shook his head.
"I suppose so," he said. "But I should know you from the man in the photograph.""And not from the picture in the paper?""I should know the photograph from the picture: the picture's very likethe photograph, but--""Well?""It's more like you!" said my brother.
My brother is a good man and true--so that, for all that he is a marriedman and mighty25 fond of his wife, he should know any secret of mine. Butthis secret was not mine, and I could not tell it to him.
"I don't think it's so much like me as the photograph," said I boldly.
"But, anyhow, Bob, I won't go to Strelsau.""No, don't go to Strelsau, Rudolf," said he.
And whether he suspects anything, or has a glimmer26 of the truth, I donot know. If he has, he keeps it to himself, and he and I never refer to it.
And we let Sir Jacob Borrodaile find another attache.
Since all these events whose history I have set down happened I havelived a very quiet life at a small house which I have taken in the country.
The ordinary ambitions and aims of men in my position seem to me dulland unattractive. I have little fancy for the whirl of society, and none forthe jostle of politics. Lady Burlesdon utterly27 despairs of me; myneighbours think me an indolent, dreamy, unsociable fellow. Yet I am ayoung man; and sometimes I have a fancy--the superstitious28 would call it apresentiment--that my part in life is not yet altogether played; that,somehow and some day, I shall mix again in great affairs, I shall againspin policies in a busy brain, match my wits against my enemies', bracemy muscles to fight a good fight and strike stout30 blows. Such is the tissueof my thoughts as, with gun or rod in hand, I wander through the woods orby the side of the stream. Whether the fancy will be fulfilled, I cannot tell-still less whether the scene that, led by memory, I lay for my new exploitswill be the true one--for I love to see myself once again in the crowdedstreets of Strelsau, or beneath the frowning keep of the Castle of Zenda.
Thus led, my broodings leave the future, and turn back on the past.
Shapes rise before me in long array--the wild first revel31 with the King, therush with my brave tea-table, the night in the moat, the pursuit in the forest:
my friends and my foes32, the people who learnt to love and honour me, thedesperate men who tried to kill me. And, from amidst these last, comesone who alone of all of them yet moves on earth, though where I know not,yet plans (as I do not doubt) wickedness, yet turns women's hearts tosoftness and men's to fear and hate. Where is young Rupert of Hentzau-theboy who came so nigh to beating me? When his name comes into myhead, I feel my hand grip and the blood move quicker through my veins33:
and the hint of Fate--the presentiment29-- seems to grow stronger and moredefinite, and to whisper insistently34 in my ear that I have yet a hand to playwith young Rupert; therefore I exercise myself in arms, and seek to put offthe day when the vigour35 of youth must leave me.
One break comes every year in my quiet life. Then I go to Dresden,and there I am met by my dear friend and companion, Fritz vonTarlenheim. Last time, his pretty wife Helga came, and a lusty crowingbaby with her. And for a week Fritz and I are together, and I hear all ofwhat falls out in Strelsau; and in the evenings, as we walk and smoketogether, we talk of Sapt, and of the King, and often of young Rupert; and,as the hours grow small, at last we speak of Flavia. For every year Fritzcarries with him to Dresden a little box; in it lies a red rose, and round thestalk of the rose is a slip of paper with the words written: "Rudolf--Flavia-always." And the like I send back by him. That message, and the wearingof the rings, are all that now bind36 me and the Queen of Ruritania. Far-nobler,as I hold her, for the act--she has followed where her duty to hercountry and her House led her, and is the wife of the King, uniting hissubjects to him by the love they bear to her, giving peace and quiet days tothousands by her self-sacrifice. There are moments when I dare not thinkof it, but there are others when I rise in spirit to where she ever dwells;then I can thank God that I love the noblest lady in the world, the mostgracious and beautiful, and that there was nothing in my love that madeher fall short in her high duty.
Shall I see her face again--the pale face and the glorious hair? Of that Iknow nothing; Fate has no hint, my heart no presentiment. I do not know.
In this world, perhaps--nay, it is likely--never. And can it be thatsomewhere, in a manner whereof our flesh-bound minds have no apprehension37, she and I will be together again, with nothing to comebetween us, nothing to forbid our love? That I know not, nor wiser headsthan mine. But if it be never-- if I can never hold sweet converse38 againwith her, or look upon her face, or know from her her love; why, then, thisside the grave, I will live as becomes the man whom she loves; and, forthe other side, I must pray a dreamless sleep.
The End
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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prospective
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| adj.预期的，未来的，前瞻性的 | |
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vexing
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| adj.使人烦恼的，使人恼火的v.使烦恼( vex的现在分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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accounting
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| n.会计，会计学，借贷对照表 | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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strife
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| n.争吵，冲突，倾轧，竞争 | |
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delusions
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| n.欺骗( delusion的名词复数 )；谬见；错觉；妄想 | |
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generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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12
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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fauna
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| n.(一个地区或时代的)所有动物，动物区系 | |
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flora
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| n.(某一地区的)植物群 | |
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frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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prophesied
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| v.预告，预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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exasperating
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| adj. 激怒的 动词exasperate的现在分词形式 | |
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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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ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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cardinal
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| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
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likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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pettishly
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lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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presentiment
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| n.预感，预觉 | |
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revel
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| vi.狂欢作乐，陶醉；n.作乐，狂欢 | |
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foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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insistently
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| ad.坚持地 | |
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35
vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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