There are very few temperaments1 that can resist an universal and unceasing festival in a vast and beautiful metropolis2. It is inebriating3, and the most wonderful of all its accidents is how the population can ever calm and recur4 to the monotony of ordinary life. When all this happens, too, in a capital blessed with purple skies, where the moonlight is equal to our sunshine, and where half the population sleep in the open air and wish for no roof but the heavens, existence is a dream of phantasy and perpetual loveliness, and one is at last forced to believe that there is some miraculous5 and supernatural agency that provides the ever-enduring excitement and ceaseless incidents of grace and beauty.
After the great ceremony of the morrow in the cathedral, and when Myra, kneeling at the altar with her husband, received, under a canopy6 of silver brocade, the blessings7 of a cardinal8 and her people, day followed day with court balls and municipal banquets, state visits to operas, and reviews of sumptuous9 troops. At length the end of all this pageantry and enthusiasm approached, and amid a blaze of fireworks, the picturesque10 population of this fascinating city tried to return to ordinary feeling and to common sense.
If amid this graceful11 hubbub12 and this glittering riot any one could have found time to remark the carriage and conduct of an individual, one might have observed, and perhaps been surprised at, the change in those of Miss Neuchatel. That air of pensive13 resignation which distinguished14 her seemed to have vanished. She never wore that doleful look for which she was too remarkable15 in London saloons, and which marred16 a countenance17 favoured by nature and a form intended for gaiety and grace. Perhaps it was the influence of the climate, perhaps the excitement of the scene, perhaps some rapture18 with the wondrous19 fortunes of the friend whom she adored, but Adriana seemed suddenly to sympathise with everybody and to appreciate everything; her face was radiant, she was in every dance, and visited churches and museums, and palaces and galleries, with keen delight. With many charms, the intimate friend of their sovereign, and herself known to be noble and immensely rich, Adriana became the fashion, and a crowd of princes were ever watching her smiles, and sometimes offering her their sighs.
“I think you enjoy our visit more than any one of us,” said Endymion to her one day, with some feeling of surprise.
“Well, one cannot mope for ever,” said Miss Neuchatel; “I have passed my life in thinking of one subject, and I feel now it made me very stupid.”
Endymion felt embarrassed, and, though generally ready, had no repartee20 at command. Lord Waldershare, however, came to his relief, and claimed Adriana for the impending21 dance.
This wondrous marriage was a grand subject for “our own correspondents,” and they abounded22. Among them were Jawett and St. Barbe. St. Barbe hated Jawett, as indeed he did all his brethren, but his appointment in this instance he denounced as an infamous23 job. “Merely to allow him to travel in foreign parts, which he has never done, without a single qualification for the office! However, it will ruin his paper, that is some consolation24. Fancy sending here a man who has never used his pen except about those dismal25 statistics, and what he calls first principles! I hate his style, so neat and frigid26. No colour, sir. I hate his short sentences, like a dog barking; we want a word-painter here, sir. My description of the wedding sold one hundred and fifty thousand, and it is selling now. If the proprietors27 were gentlemen, they would have sent me an unlimited28 credit, instead of their paltry29 fifty pounds a day and my expenses; but you never meet a liberal man now,—no such animal known. What I want you to do for me, Lord Waldershare, is to get me invited to the Villa30 Aurea when the court moves there. It will be private life there, and that is the article the British public want now. They are satiated with ceremonies and festivals. They want to know what the royal pair have for dinner when they are alone, how they pass their evenings, and whether the queen drives ponies31.”
“So far as I am concerned,” said Waldershare, “they shall remain state secrets.”
“I have received no special favours here,” rejoined St. Barbe, “though, with my claims, I might have counted on the uttermost. However, it is always so. I must depend on my own resources. I have a retainer, I can tell you, my lord, from the ‘Rigdum Funidos,’ in my pocket, and it is in my power to keep up such a crackling of jokes and sarcasms32 that a very different view would soon be entertained in Europe of what is going on here than is now the fashion. The ‘Rigdum Funidos’ is on the breakfast-table of all England, and sells thousands in every capital of the world. You do not appreciate its power; you will now feel it.”
“I also am a subscriber33 to the ‘Rigdum Funidos,’” said Waldershare, “and tell you frankly34, Mr. St. Barbe, that if I see in its columns the slightest allusion35 to any persons or incident in this country, I will take care that you be instantly consigned36 to the galleys37; and, this being a liberal government, I can do that without even the ceremony of a primary inquiry38.”
“You do not mean that?” said St. Barbe; “of course, I was only jesting. It is not likely that I should say or do anything disagreeable to those whom I look upon as my patrons—I may say friends—through life. It makes me almost weep when I remember my early connection with Mr. Ferrars, now an under-secretary of state, and who will mount higher. I never had a chance of being a minister, though I suppose I am not more incapable39 than others who get the silver spoon into their mouths. And then his divine sister! Quite an heroic character! I never had a sister, and so I never had even a chance of being nearly related to royalty40. But so it has been throughout my life. No luck, my lord; no luck. And then they say one is misanthropical41. Hang it! who can help being misanthropical when he finds everybody getting on in life except himself?”
The court moved to their favourite summer residence, a Palladian palace on a blue lake, its banks clothed with forests abounding42 with every species of game, and beyond them loftier mountains. The king was devoted43 to sport, and Endymion was always among his companions. Waldershare rather attached himself to the ladies, who made gay parties floating in gondolas44, and refreshed themselves with picnics in sylvan45 retreats. It was supposed Lord Waldershare was a great admirer of the Princess of Montserrat, who in return referred to him as that “lovable eccentricity46.” As the autumn advanced, parties of guests of high distinction, carefully arranged, periodically arrived. Now, there was more ceremony, and every evening the circle was formed, while the king and queen exchanged words, and sometimes ideas, with those who were so fortunate as to be under their roof. Frequently there were dramatic performances, and sometimes a dance. The Princess of Montserrat was invaluable47 in these scenes; vivacious48, imaginative, a consummate49 mimic50, her countenance, though not beautiful, was full of charm. What was strange, Adriana took a great fancy to her Highness, and they were seldom separated. The only cloud for Endymion in this happy life was, that every day the necessity of his return to England was more urgent, and every day the days vanished more quickly. That return to England, once counted by weeks, would soon be counted by hours. He had conferred once or twice with Waldershare on the subject, who always turned the conversation; at last Endymion reminded him that the time of his departure was at hand, and that, originally, it had been agreed they should return together.
“Yes, my dear Ferrars, we did so agree, but the agreement was permissive, not compulsory51. My views are changed. Perhaps I shall never return to England again; I think of being naturalised here.”
The queen was depressed52 at the prospect53 of being separated from her brother. Sometimes she remonstrated54 with him for his devotion to sport which deprived her of his society; frequently in a morning she sent for him to her boudoir, that they might talk together as in old times. “The king has invited Lord and Lady Beaumaris to pay us a visit, and they are coming at once. I had hoped the dear Hainaults might have visited us here. I think she would have liked it. However, they will certainly pass the winter with us. It is some consolation to me not to lose Adriana.”
“The greatest,” said Endymion, “and she seems so happy here. She seems quite changed.”
“I hope she is happier,” said the queen, “but I trust she is not changed. I think her nearly perfection. So pure, even so exalted55 a mind, joined with so sweet a temper, I have never met. And she is very much admired too, I can tell you. The Prince of Arragon would be on his knees to her tomorrow, if she would only give a single smile. But she smiles enough with the Princess of Montserrat. I heard her the other day absolutely in uncontrollable laughter. That is a strange friendship; it amuses me.”
“The princess has immense resource.”
The queen suddenly rose from her seat; her countenance was disturbed.
“Why do we talk of her, or of any other trifler of the court, when there hangs over us so great a sorrow, Endymion, as our separation? Endymion, my best beloved,” and she threw her arms round his neck, “my heart! my life! Is it possible that you can leave me, and so miserable56 as I am?”
“Miserable!”
“Yes! miserable when I think of your position—and even my own. Mine own has risen like a palace in a dream, and may vanish like one. But that would not be a calamity57 if you were safe. If I quitted this world tomorrow, where would you be? It gives me sleepless58 nights and anxious days. If you really loved me as you say, you would save me this. I am haunted with the perpetual thought that all this glittering prosperity will vanish as it did with our father. God forbid that, under any circumstances, it should lead to such an end—but who knows? Fate is terribly stern; ironically just. O Endymion! if you really love me, your twin, half of your blood and life, who have laboured for you so much, and thought for you so much, and prayed for you so much—and yet I sometimes feel have done so little—O Endymion! my adored, my own Endymion, if you wish to preserve my life—if you wish me not only to live, but really to be happy as I ought to be and could be, but for one dark thought, help me, aid me, save me—you can, and by one single act.”
“One single act!”
“Yes! marry Adriana.”
“Ah!” and he sighed.
“Yes, Adriana, to whom we both of us owe everything. Were it not for Adriana, you would not be here, you would be nothing,” and she whispered some words which made him start, and alternately blush and look pale.
“Is it possible?” he exclaimed. “My sister, my beloved sister, I have tried to keep my brain cool in many trials. But I feel, as it were, as if life were too much for me. You counsel me to that which we should all repent59.”
“Yes, I know it; you may for a moment think it a sacrifice, but believe me, that is all phantasy. I know you think your heart belongs to another. I will grant everything, willingly grant everything you could say of her. Yes, I admit, she is beautiful, she has many charms, has been to you a faithful friend, you delight in her society; such things have happened before to many men, to every man they say they happen, but that has not prevented them from being wise, and very happy too. Your present position, if you persist in it, is one most perilous60. You have no root in the country; but for an accident you could not maintain the public position you have nobly gained. As for the great crowning consummation of your life, which we dreamed over at unhappy Hurstley, which I have sometimes dared to prophesy61, that must be surrendered. The country at the best will look upon you only as a reputable adventurer to be endured, even trusted and supported, in some secondary post, but nothing more. I touch on this, for I see it is useless to speak of myself and my own fate and feelings; only remember, Endymion, I have never deceived you. I cannot endure any longer this state of affairs. When in a few days we part, we shall never meet again. And all the devotion of Myra will end in your destroying her.”
“My own, my beloved Myra, do with me what you like. If ——”
At this moment there was a gentle tap at the door, and the king entered.
“My angel,” he said, “and you too, my dear Endymion. I have some news from England which I fear may distress62 you. Lord Montfort is dead.”
1 temperaments | |
性格( temperament的名词复数 ); (人或动物的)气质; 易冲动; (性情)暴躁 | |
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2 metropolis | |
n.首府;大城市 | |
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3 inebriating | |
vt.使酒醉,灌醉(inebriate的现在分词形式) | |
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4 recur | |
vi.复发,重现,再发生 | |
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5 miraculous | |
adj.像奇迹一样的,不可思议的 | |
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6 canopy | |
n.天篷,遮篷 | |
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7 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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8 cardinal | |
n.(天主教的)红衣主教;adj.首要的,基本的 | |
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9 sumptuous | |
adj.豪华的,奢侈的,华丽的 | |
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10 picturesque | |
adj.美丽如画的,(语言)生动的,绘声绘色的 | |
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11 graceful | |
adj.优美的,优雅的;得体的 | |
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12 hubbub | |
n.嘈杂;骚乱 | |
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13 pensive | |
a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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14 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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15 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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16 marred | |
adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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17 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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18 rapture | |
n.狂喜;全神贯注;着迷;v.使狂喜 | |
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19 wondrous | |
adj.令人惊奇的,奇妙的;adv.惊人地;异乎寻常地;令人惊叹地 | |
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20 repartee | |
n.机敏的应答 | |
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21 impending | |
a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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22 abounded | |
v.大量存在,充满,富于( abound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23 infamous | |
adj.声名狼藉的,臭名昭著的,邪恶的 | |
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24 consolation | |
n.安慰,慰问 | |
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25 dismal | |
adj.阴沉的,凄凉的,令人忧郁的,差劲的 | |
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26 frigid | |
adj.寒冷的,凛冽的;冷淡的;拘禁的 | |
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27 proprietors | |
n.所有人,业主( proprietor的名词复数 ) | |
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28 unlimited | |
adj.无限的,不受控制的,无条件的 | |
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29 paltry | |
adj.无价值的,微不足道的 | |
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30 villa | |
n.别墅,城郊小屋 | |
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31 ponies | |
矮种马,小型马( pony的名词复数 ); £25 25 英镑 | |
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32 sarcasms | |
n.讥讽,讽刺,挖苦( sarcasm的名词复数 ) | |
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33 subscriber | |
n.用户,订户;(慈善机关等的)定期捐款者;预约者;签署者 | |
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34 frankly | |
adv.坦白地,直率地;坦率地说 | |
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35 allusion | |
n.暗示,间接提示 | |
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36 consigned | |
v.把…置于(令人不快的境地)( consign的过去式和过去分词 );把…托付给;把…托人代售;丟弃 | |
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37 galleys | |
n.平底大船,战舰( galley的名词复数 );(船上或航空器上的)厨房 | |
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38 inquiry | |
n.打听,询问,调查,查问 | |
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39 incapable | |
adj.无能力的,不能做某事的 | |
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40 royalty | |
n.皇家,皇族 | |
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41 misanthropical | |
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42 abounding | |
adj.丰富的,大量的v.大量存在,充满,富于( abound的现在分词 ) | |
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43 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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44 gondolas | |
n.狭长小船( gondola的名词复数 );货架(一般指商店,例如化妆品店);吊船工作台 | |
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45 sylvan | |
adj.森林的 | |
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46 eccentricity | |
n.古怪,反常,怪癖 | |
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47 invaluable | |
adj.无价的,非常宝贵的,极为贵重的 | |
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48 vivacious | |
adj.活泼的,快活的 | |
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49 consummate | |
adj.完美的;v.成婚;使完美 [反]baffle | |
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50 mimic | |
v.模仿,戏弄;n.模仿他人言行的人 | |
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51 compulsory | |
n.强制的,必修的;规定的,义务的 | |
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52 depressed | |
adj.沮丧的,抑郁的,不景气的,萧条的 | |
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53 prospect | |
n.前景,前途;景色,视野 | |
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54 remonstrated | |
v.抗议( remonstrate的过去式和过去分词 );告诫 | |
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55 exalted | |
adj.(地位等)高的,崇高的;尊贵的,高尚的 | |
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56 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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57 calamity | |
n.灾害,祸患,不幸事件 | |
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58 sleepless | |
adj.不睡眠的,睡不著的,不休息的 | |
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59 repent | |
v.悔悟,悔改,忏悔,后悔 | |
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60 perilous | |
adj.危险的,冒险的 | |
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61 prophesy | |
v.预言;预示 | |
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62 distress | |
n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
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