About the time that the ladies rose from the dinner-table in Hill Street, Mr. Sidney Wilton entered the hall of the Clarendon Hotel, and murmured an inquiry1 of the porter. Whereupon a bell was rung, and soon a foreign servant appeared, and bowing, invited Mr. Wilton to ascend2 the staircase and follow him. Mr. Wilton was ushered3 through an ante-chamber into a room of some importance, lofty and decorated, and obviously adapted for distinguished4 guests. On a principal table a desk was open and many papers strewn about. Apparently5 some person had only recently been writing there. There were in the room several musical instruments; the piano was open, there was a harp6 and a guitar. The room was rather dimly lighted, but cheerful from the steady blaze of the fire, before which Mr. Wilton stood, not long alone, for an opposite door opened, and a lady advanced leading with her left hand a youth of interesting mien7, and about twelve years of age. The lady was fair and singularly thin. It seemed that her delicate hand must really be transparent8. Her cheek was sunk, but the expression of her large brown eyes was inexpressibly pleasing. She wore her own hair, once the most celebrated9 in Europe, and still uncovered. Though the prodigal10 richness of the tresses had disappeared, the arrangement was still striking from its grace. That rare quality pervaded11 the being of this lady, and it was impossible not to be struck with her carriage as she advanced to greet her guest; free from all affectation and yet full of movement and gestures, which might have been the study of painters.
“Ah!” she exclaimed as she gave him her hand, which he pressed to his lips, “you are ever faithful.”
Seating themselves, she continued, “You have not seen my boy since he sate12 upon your knee. Florestan, salute13 Mr. Wilton, your mother’s most cherished friend.”
“This is a sudden arrival,” said Mr. Wilton.
“Well, they would not let us rest,” said the lady. “Our only refuge was Switzerland, but I cannot breathe among the mountains, and so, after a while, we stole to an obscure corner of the south, and for a time we were tranquil14. But soon the old story: representations, remonstrances15, warnings, and threats, appeals to Vienna, and lectures from Prince Metternich, not the less impressive because they were courteous16, and even gallant17.”
“And had nothing occurred to give a colour to such complaints? Or was it sheer persecution18?”
“Well, you know,” replied the lady, “we wished to remain quiet and obscure; but where the lad is, they will find him out. It often astonishes me. I believe if we were in the centre of a forest in some Indian isle19, with no companions but monkeys and elephants, a secret agent would appear—some devoted20 victim of our family, prepared to restore our fortunes and renovate21 his own. I speak the truth to you always. I have never countenanced22 these people; I have never encouraged them; but it is impossible rudely to reject the sympathy of those who, after all, are your fellow-sufferers, and some of who have given proof of even disinterested23 devotion. For my own part, I have never faltered24 in my faith, that Florestan would some day sit on the throne of his father, dark as appears to be our life; but I have never much believed that the great result could be occasioned or precipitated25 by intrigues26, but rather by events more powerful than man, and led on by that fatality27 in which his father believed.”
“And now you think of remaining here?” said Mr. Wilton.
“No,” said the lady, “that I cannot do. I love everything in this country except its climate and, perhaps, its hotels. I think of trying the south of Spain, and fancy, if quite alone, I might vegetate28 there unnoticed. I cannot bring myself altogether to quit Europe. I am, my dear Sidney, intensely European. But Spain is not exactly the country I should fix upon to form kings and statesmen. And this is the point on which I wish to consult you. I want Florestan to receive an English education, and I want you to put me in the way of accomplishing this. It might be convenient, under such circumstances, that he should not obtrude29 his birth—perhaps, that it should be concealed30. He has many honourable31 names besides the one which indicates the state to which he was born. But, on all these points, we want your advice.” And she seemed to appeal to her son, who bowed his head with a slight smile, but did not speak.
Mr. Wilton expressed his deep interest in her wishes, and promised to consider how they might best be accomplished32, and then the conversation took a more general tone.
“This change of government in your country,” said the lady, “so unexpected, so utterly33 unforeseen, disturbs me; in fact, it decided34 my hesitating movements. I cannot but believe that the accession of the Duke of Wellington to power must be bad, at least, for us. It is essentially35 reactionary36. They are triumphing at Vienna.”
“Have they cause?” said Mr. Wilton. “I am an impartial37 witness, for I have no post in the new administration; but the leading colleagues of Mr. Canning form part of it, and the conduct of foreign affairs remains38 in the same hands.”
“That is consoling,” said the lady. “I wonder if Lord Dudley would see me. Perhaps not. Ministers do not love pretenders. I knew him when I was not a pretender,” added the lady, with the sweetest of smiles, “and thought him agreeable. He was witty39. Ah! Sidney, those were happy days. I look back to the past with regret, but without remorse40. One might have done more good, but one did some;” and she sighed.
“You seemed to me,” said Sidney with emotion, “to diffuse41 benefit and blessings42 among all around you.”
“And I read,” said the lady, a little indignant, “in some memoirs43 the other day, that our court was a corrupt44 and dissolute court. It was a court of pleasure, if you like; but of pleasure that animated45 and refined, and put the world in good humour, which, after all, is good government. The most corrupt and dissolute courts on the continent of Europe that I have known,” said the lady, “have been outwardly the dullest and most decorous.”
“My memory of those days,” said Mr. Wilton, “is of ceaseless grace and inexhaustible charm.”
“Well,” said the lady, “if I sinned I have at least suffered. And I hope they were only sins of omission46. I wanted to see everybody happy, and tried to make them so. But let us talk no more of ourselves. The unfortunate are always egotistical. Tell me something of Mr. Wilton; and, above all, tell me why you are not in the new government.”
“I have not been invited,” said Mr. Wilton. “There are more claimants than can be satisfied, and my claims are not very strong. It is scarcely a disappointment to me. I shall continue in public life; but, so far as political responsibility is concerned, I would rather wait. I have some fancies on that head, but I will not trouble you with them. My time, therefore, is at my command; and so,” he added smilingly, “I can attend to the education of Prince Florestan.”
“Do you hear that, Florestan?” said the lady to her son; “I told you we had a friend. Thank Mr. Wilton.”
And the young Prince bowed as before, but with a more serious expression. He, however, said nothing.
“I see you have not forgotten your most delightful47 pursuit,” said Mr. Wilton, and he looked towards the musical instruments.
“No,” said the lady; “throned or discrowned, music has ever been the charm or consolation48 of my life.”
“Pleasure should follow business,” said Mr. Wilton, “and we have transacted49 ours. Would it be too bold if I asked again to hear those tones which have so often enchanted50 me?”
“My voice has not fallen off,” said the lady, “for you know it was never first-rate. But they were kind enough to say it had some expression, probably because I generally sang my own words to my own music. I will sing you my farewell to Florestan,” she added gaily51, and took up her guitar, and then in tones of melancholy52 sweetness, breaking at last into a gushing53 burst of long-controlled affection, she expressed the agony and devotion of a mother’s heart. Mr. Wilton was a little agitated54; her son left the room. The mother turned round with a smiling face, and said, “The darling cannot bear to hear it, but I sing it on purpose, to prepare him for the inevitable55.”
“He is soft-hearted,” said Mr. Wilton.
“He is the most affectionate of beings,” replied the mother. “Affectionate and mysterious. I can say no more. I ought to tell you his character. I cannot. You may say he may have none. I do not know. He has abilities, for he acquires knowledge with facility, and knows a great deal for a boy. But he never gives an opinion. He is silent and solitary56. Poor darling! he has rarely had companions, and that may be the cause. He seems to me always to be thinking.”
“Well, a public school will rouse him from his reveries,” said Mr. Wilton.
“As he is away at this moment, I will say that which I should not care to say before his face,” said the lady. “You are about to do me a great service, not the first; and before I leave this, we may—we must—meet again more than once, but there is no time like the present. The separation between Florestan and myself may be final. It is sad to think of such things, but they must be thought of, for they are probable. I still look in a mirror, Sidney; I am not so frightened by what has occurred since we first met, to be afraid of that—but I never deceive myself. I do not know what may be the magical effect of the raisins57 of Malaga, but if it saves my life the grape cure will indeed achieve a miracle. Do not look gloomy. Those who have known real grief seldom seem sad. I have been struggling with sorrow for ten years, but I have got through it with music and singing, and my boy. See now—he will be a source of expense, and it will not do for you to be looking to a woman for supplies. Women are generous, but not precise in money matters. I have some excuse, for the world has treated me not very well. I never got my pension regularly; now I never get it at all. So much for the treaties, but everybody laughs at them. Here is the fortune of Florestan, and I wish it all to be spent on his education,” and she took a case from her bosom58. “They are not the crown jewels, though. The memoirs I was reading the other day say I ran away with them. That is false, like most things said of me. But these are gems59 of Golconda, which I wish you to realise and expend60 for his service. They were the gift of love, and they were worn in love.”
“It is unnecessary,” said Mr. Wilton, deprecating the offer by his attitude.
“Hush!” said the lady. “I am still a sovereign to you, and I must be obeyed.”
Mr. Wilton took the case of jewels, pressed it to his lips, and then placed it in the breast pocket of his coat. He was about to retire, when the lady added, “I must give you this copy of my song.”
“And you will write my name on it?”
“Certainly,” replied the lady, as she went to the table and wrote, “For Mr. Sidney Wilton, from AGRIPPINA.”
1 inquiry | |
n.打听,询问,调查,查问 | |
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2 ascend | |
vi.渐渐上升,升高;vt.攀登,登上 | |
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3 ushered | |
v.引,领,陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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4 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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5 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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6 harp | |
n.竖琴;天琴座 | |
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7 mien | |
n.风采;态度 | |
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8 transparent | |
adj.明显的,无疑的;透明的 | |
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9 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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10 prodigal | |
adj.浪费的,挥霍的,放荡的 | |
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11 pervaded | |
v.遍及,弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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12 sate | |
v.使充分满足 | |
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13 salute | |
vi.行礼,致意,问候,放礼炮;vt.向…致意,迎接,赞扬;n.招呼,敬礼,礼炮 | |
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14 tranquil | |
adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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15 remonstrances | |
n.抱怨,抗议( remonstrance的名词复数 ) | |
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16 courteous | |
adj.彬彬有礼的,客气的 | |
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17 gallant | |
adj.英勇的,豪侠的;(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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18 persecution | |
n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
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19 isle | |
n.小岛,岛 | |
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20 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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21 renovate | |
vt.更新,革新,刷新 | |
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22 countenanced | |
v.支持,赞同,批准( countenance的过去式 ) | |
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23 disinterested | |
adj.不关心的,不感兴趣的 | |
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24 faltered | |
(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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25 precipitated | |
v.(突如其来地)使发生( precipitate的过去式和过去分词 );促成;猛然摔下;使沉淀 | |
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26 intrigues | |
n.密谋策划( intrigue的名词复数 );神秘气氛;引人入胜的复杂情节v.搞阴谋诡计( intrigue的第三人称单数 );激起…的好奇心 | |
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27 fatality | |
n.不幸,灾祸,天命 | |
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28 vegetate | |
v.无所事事地过活 | |
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29 obtrude | |
v.闯入;侵入;打扰 | |
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30 concealed | |
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
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31 honourable | |
adj.可敬的;荣誉的,光荣的 | |
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32 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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33 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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34 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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35 essentially | |
adv.本质上,实质上,基本上 | |
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36 reactionary | |
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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37 impartial | |
adj.(in,to)公正的,无偏见的 | |
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38 remains | |
n.剩余物,残留物;遗体,遗迹 | |
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39 witty | |
adj.机智的,风趣的 | |
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40 remorse | |
n.痛恨,悔恨,自责 | |
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41 diffuse | |
v.扩散;传播;adj.冗长的;四散的,弥漫的 | |
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42 blessings | |
n.(上帝的)祝福( blessing的名词复数 );好事;福分;因祸得福 | |
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43 memoirs | |
n.回忆录;回忆录传( mem,自oir的名词复数) | |
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44 corrupt | |
v.贿赂,收买;adj.腐败的,贪污的 | |
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45 animated | |
adj.生气勃勃的,活跃的,愉快的 | |
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46 omission | |
n.省略,删节;遗漏或省略的事物,冗长 | |
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47 delightful | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
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48 consolation | |
n.安慰,慰问 | |
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49 transacted | |
v.办理(业务等)( transact的过去式和过去分词 );交易,谈判 | |
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50 enchanted | |
adj. 被施魔法的,陶醉的,入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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51 gaily | |
adv.欢乐地,高兴地 | |
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52 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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53 gushing | |
adj.迸出的;涌出的;喷出的;过分热情的v.喷,涌( gush的现在分词 );滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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54 agitated | |
adj.被鼓动的,不安的 | |
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55 inevitable | |
adj.不可避免的,必然发生的 | |
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56 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
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57 raisins | |
n.葡萄干( raisin的名词复数 ) | |
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58 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
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59 gems | |
growth; economy; management; and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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60 expend | |
vt.花费,消费,消耗 | |
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