"Not a bad joke. What?"
She shook her head:
"Is it quite certain, cousin, that it is a joke?"
"I don't say that it isn't," said Dorothy, smiling. "The old fellow does seem to me a trifle cracked. Nevertheless the letter he has written to us is certainly authentic3; at the end of two centuries we have come, as he foresaw that we should, to the rendezvous4 he appointed, and above all we are certainly members of the same family."
"I think that we might start embracing all over again, mademoiselle."
"I'm sure, if our ancestor permits it, I shall be charmed," said Dorothy.
"But he does permit it."
"We'll go and ask him."
Maître Delarue protested:
"You'll go without me, mademoiselle. Understand once and for all that I am not going to see whether Jean-Pierre-Augustin de la Roche, Marquis de Beaugreval, is still alive at the age of two hundred and sixty-two years!"
"But he isn't as old as all that, Maître Delarue. We need not count the two hundred years' sleep. Then it's only a matter of sixty-two years; that's quite normal. His friend, Monsieur de Fontenelle, as the Marquis predicted and thanks to an elixir of life, lived to be a hundred."
"In fact you do not believe in it, mademoiselle?"
"No. But all the same there should be something in it."
"What else can there be in it?"
"We shall know presently. But at the moment I confess to my shame that I should like before——"
She paused; and with one accord they cried:
"What?"
She laughed.
"Well, the truth is I'm hungry—hungry with a two-hundred-year-old hunger—as hungry as the Marquis de Beaugreval must be. Has any of you by any chance——"
The three young men darted5 away. One ran to his motor-cycle, the other two to their horses. Each had a haversack full of provisions which they brought and set out on the grass at Dorothy's feet. The Russian Kourobelef, who had only a slice of bread, dragged a large flat stone in front of her by way of table.
"This is really nice!" she said, clapping her hands. "A real family lunch! We invite you to join us, Maître Delarue, and you also, soldier of Wrangel."
The meal, washed down by the good wine of Anjou, was a merry one. They drank the health of the worthy6 nobleman who had had the excellent idea of bringing them together at his château; and Webster made a speech in his honor.
The diamonds, the codicil7, the survival of their ancestor and his resurrection had become so many trifles to which they paid no further attention. For them the adventure came to an end with the reading of the letter and the improvised8 meal. And even so it was amazing enough!
"And so amusing!" said Dorothy, who kept laughing. "I assure you that I have never been so amused—never."
Her four cousins, as she called them, hung on her lips and never took their eyes off her, amused and astonished by everything she said. At first sight they had understood her and she had understood them, without the five of them having to pass through the usual stages of becoming intimate, through which people who are thrown together for the first time generally have to pass. To them she was grace, beauty, spirit and freshness. She represented the charming country from which their ancestors had long ago departed; they found in her at once a sister of whom they were proud and a woman they burned to win.
Already rivals, each of them strove to appear at his best.
Errington, Webster, and Dario organized contests, feats9 of strength, exhibitions of balancing; they ran races. The only prize they asked for was that Dorothy, queen of the tourney, should regard them with favor with those beautiful eyes, of which they felt the profound seduction, and which appeared to them the most beautiful eyes they had ever seen.
But the winner of the tournament was Dorothy herself. Directly she took part in it, all that the others could do was to sit down, look on, and wonder. A fragment of wall, of which the top had crumbled10 so thin that it was nearly a sharp edge, served her as a tight-rope. She climbed trees and let herself drop from branch to branch. Springing upon the big horse of Dario she forced him through the paces of a circus horse. Then, seizing the bridle12 of the pony13, she did a turn on the two of them, lying down, standing14 up, or astride.
She performed all these feats with a modest grace, full of reserve, without a trace of coquetry. The young men were no less enthusiastic than amazed. The acrobat15 delighted them. But the young girl inspired them with a respect from which not one of them dreamt of departing. Who was she? They called her princess, laughing; but their laughter was full of deference16. Really they did not understand it.
It was not till three in the afternoon that they decided17 to carry the adventure to its end. They all started to do so in the spirit of picnickers. Maître Delarue, to whose head the good wine of Anjou had mounted in some quantity, with his broad bow unknotted and his tall hat on the back of his head, led the way on his donkey, chanting couplets about the resurrection of Marquis Lazarus. Dario, of Genoa, imitated a mandolin accompaniment. Errington and Webster held over Dorothy's head, to keep the sun off it, an umbrella made of ferns and wild flowers.
They went round the hillock, which was composed of the débris of the old château, behind the clock and along a beautiful avenue of trees centuries old, which ended in a circular glade18 in the middle of which rose a magnificent oak.
Maître Delarue said in the tone of a guide:
"These are the trees planted by the Marquis de Beaugreval's father. You will observe their vigor19. Venerable trees, if ever there were any! Behold20 the oak king! Whole generations have taken shelter under his boughs21. Hats off, gentlemen!"
Then they came to the woody slopes of a small hill, on the summit of which in the middle of a circular embankment, formed by the ruins of the wall that had encircled it, rose a tower oval in shape.
"Cocquesin tower," said Maître Delarue, more and more cheerful. "Venerable ruins, if ever there were any! Remnants of the feudal22 keep! That's where the sleeping Marquis of the enchanted23 wood is waiting for us, whom we're going to resuscitate24 with a thimbleful of foaming25 elixir."
The blue sky appeared through the empty windows. Whole masses of wall had fallen down. However, the whole of the right side seemed to be intact; and if there really was a staircase and some kind of habitation, as the Marquis had stated, it could only be in that part of the tower.
And now the arch, against which the draw-bridge had formerly26 been raised opened before them. The approach to it was so blocked by interlaced briars and bushes, that it took them a long time to reach the vault27 in which were the stones indicated by the Marquis de Beaugreval.
Then, another barrier of fallen stones, and another effort to clear a double path to the two walls.
"Here we are," said Dorothy at last. She had directed their labors28. "And we can be quite sure that no one has been before us."
Before beginning the operation which had been enjoined29 on them they went to the end of the vault. It opened on to the immense nave30 formed by the interior of the keep, its stories fallen away, its only roof the sky. They saw, one above the other, the embrasures of four fireplaces, under chimney-pieces of sculptured stone, full now of wild plants.
One might have described it as the oval of a Roman amphitheater, with a series of small vaulted31 chambers32 above, of which one perceived the gaping33 openings, separated by passages into distinct groups.
"The visitors who risk coming to Roche-Périac can enter from this side," said Dorothy. "Wedding parties from the neighborhood must come here now and then. Look: there are greasy34 pieces of paper and sardine-tins scattered35 about on the ground."
"It's odd that the draw-bridge vault hasn't been cleared out," said Webster.
"By whom? Do you think that picnickers are going to waste their time doing what we have done, when on the opposite side there are easy entrances?"
They did not seem in any hurry to get to work to verify the statements of the Marquis; and it was rather to have their consciences clear and to be able to say to themselves without any equivocation36, "The adventure is finished," that they attacked the walls of the vault.
Dorothy, sceptical as the others, again carelessly took command, and said: "Come on, cousins. You didn't come from America and Russia to stand still with folded arms. We owe our ancestor this proof of our good will before we have the right to throw our medals into drawers. Dario, of Genoa—Errington, be so good as to push, each on the side you are, the third stone at the top. Yes: those two, since this is the groove37 in which the old portcullis worked."
The stones were a good height above the ground, so that the Englishman and the Italian had to raise their arms to reach them. Following Dorothy's advice, they climbed on to the shoulders of Webster and Kourobelef.
"Are you ready?"
"We're ready," replied Errington and Dario.
"Then push gently with a continuous pressure. And above all have faith! Maître Delarue has no faith. So I am not asking him to do anything."
The two young men set their hands against the two stones and pushed hard.
"Come: a little vigor!" said Dorothy in a tone of jest. "The statements of the Marquis are gospel truth. He has written that the stone on the right will slip back. Let the stone on the right slip back."
"Mine is moving," said the Englishman, on the left.
"So is mine," said the Italian, on the right.
"It isn't possible!" cried Dorothy incredulously.
"But it is! But it is!" declared the Englishman. "And the stone above it, too. They are slipping back from the top."
The words were hardly out of his mouth, when the two stones, forming one piece, slipped back into the interior of the wall and revealed in the semi-darkness the foot of a staircase and some steps.
The Englishman uttered a cry of triumph:
"The worthy gentleman did not lie! There's the staircase!"
For a moment they remained speechless. Not that there was anything extraordinary in the affair so far; but it was a confirmation38 of the first part of the Marquis de Beaugreval's statement; and they asked themselves if the rest of his predictions would not be fulfilled with the same exactness.
"If it turns out that there are a hundred and thirty-two steps, I shall declare myself convinced," said Errington.
"What?" said Maître Delarue, who also appeared deeply impressed. "Do you mean to assert that the Marquis——"
"That the Marquis is awaiting us like a man who is expecting our visit."
The young men hauled themselves on to the landing formed by the stones which had slipped back. Dorothy joined them. Two electric pocket-lamps took the place of the torch suggested by the Marquis de Beaugreval, and they set about mounting the high steps which wound upwards41 in a very narrow space.
"Fifteen—sixteen—seventeen," Dario counted.
To hearten himself, Maître Delarue sang the couplets of "da Tour, prende garde." But at the thirtieth step he began to save his breath.
"It's a steep climb, isn't it?" said Dorothy.
"Yes it is. But it's chiefly the idea of paying a visit to a dead man. It makes my legs a bit shaky."
At the fiftieth step a hole in the wall let in some light. Dorothy looked out and saw the woods of La Roche-Périac; but a cornice, jutting42 out, prevented her from seeing the ground at the foot of the keep.
They continued the ascent43. Maître Delarue kept singing in a more and more shaky voice, and towards the end it was rather a groaning44 than a singing.
"A hundred ... a hundred and ten ... a hundred and twenty."
At a hundred and thirty-two he made the announcement:
"It is indeed the last. A wall blocks the staircase. About this also our ancestor was telling the truth."
"And are there three bricks let into the step?"
"There are."
"And a pick-ax?"
"It's here."
"Come: on getting to the top of the staircase and examining what we find there, every detail agrees with the will, so that we have only to carry out the good man's final instructions." She said: "Break down the wall, Webster. It's only a plaster partition."
At the first blow in fact the wall crumbled away, disclosing a small, low door.
"Goodness!" muttered the lawyer, who was no longer trying to dissemble his uneasiness. "The program is indeed being carried out item by item."
"Ah, you're becoming a trifle less sceptical, Maître Delarue. You'll be declaring next that the door will open."
"I do declare it. This old lunatic was a clever mechanician and a scenical producer of the first order."
"You speak of him as if he were dead," observed Dorothy.
The notary seized her arm.
"Of course I do! I'm quite willing to admit that he's behind this door. But alive? No, no! Certainly not!"
She put her foot on one of the bricks. Errington and Dario pressed the two others. The door jerked violently, quivered, and turned on its hinges.
"Holy Virgin45!" murmured Dario. "We're confronted by a genuine miracle. Are we going to see Satan?"
By the light of their lamps they perceived a fair-sized room with an arched ceiling. No ornament46 relieved the bareness of the stone walls. There was nothing in the way of furniture in it. But one judged that there was a small, low room, which formed an alcove47, from the piece of tapestry48, roughly nailed to a beam, which ran along the left side of it.
The five men and Dorothy did not stir, silent, motionless. Maître Delarue, extremely pale, seemed very ill at ease indeed.
No one was smiling any longer. Dorothy could not withdraw her eyes from the piece of tapestry. So the adventure did not come to an end with the astonishing meeting of the Marquis' heirs, nor with the reading of his fantastic will. It went as far as the hollow stairway in the old tower, to which no one had ever penetrated51, to the very threshold of the inviolable retreat in which the Marquis had drunk the draft which brings sleep.... Or which kills. What was there behind the tapestry? A bed, of course ... some garments which kept perhaps the shape of the body they had covered ... and besides, a handful of ashes.
She turned her head to her companions as if to say to them:
"Shall I go first?"
They stood motionless—undecided, ill at ease.
Then she took a step forward—then two. The tapestry was within reach. With a hesitating hand she took hold of the edge of it, while the young men drew nearer.
They turned the light of their lamps into the alcove.
At the back of it was a bed. On that bed lay a man.
This vision was, in spite of everything, so unexpected, that for a few seconds Dorothy's legs almost failed her, and she let the tapestry fall. It was Archibald Webster who, deeply perturbed52, raised it quickly, and walked briskly to this sleeping man, as if he were about to shake him and awake him forthwith. The others tumbled into the alcove after him. Archibald stopped short at the bed, with his arm raised, and dared not make another movement.
One might have judged the man on the bed to be sixty years old.
But in the strange paleness of that wholly colorless skin, beneath which flowed no single drop of blood, there was something that was of no age. A face absolutely hairless. Not an eyelash, no eyebrows53. The nose, cartilage and all, transparent54 like the noses of some consumptives. No flesh. A jaw55, bones, cheek-bones, large sunken eyelids56. That was the face between two sticking-out ears; and above it was an enormous forehead running up into an entirely57 bald skull58.
"The finger—the finger!" murmured Dorothy.
The fourth finger of the left hand was missing, cut exactly level with the palm as the will had stated.
The man was dressed in a coat of chestnut-colored cloth, a black silk waistcoat, embroidered59 in green, and breeches. His stockings were of fine wool. He wore no shoes.
"He must be dead," said one of the young men in a low voice.
To make sure, it would have been necessary to bend down and apply one's ear to the breast above the heart. But they had an odd feeling that, at the slightest touch, this shape of a man would crumble11 to dust and so vanish like a phantom60.
Besides, to make such an experiment, would it not be to commit sacrilege? To suspect death and question a corpse61: none of them dared.
"Let's get away.... It's got nothing to do with us.... It's a devilish business."
But George Errington had an idea. He took a small mirror from his pocket and held it close to the man's lips. After the lapse63 of some seconds there was a film on it.
"He's alive! He's alive!" muttered the young people, keeping with difficulty their excitement within bounds.
Maître Delarue's legs were so shaky that he had to sit down on the foot of the bed. He murmured again and again:
"A devilish business! We've no right——"
They kept looking at one another with troubled faces. The idea that this dead man was alive—for he was dead, undeniably dead—the idea that this dead man was alive shocked them as something monstrous65.
And yet was not the evidence that he was alive quite as strong as the evidence that he was dead? They believed in his death because it was impossible that he should be alive. But could they deny the evidence of their own eyes because that evidence was against all reason?
Dorothy said:
"Look: his chest rises and falls—you can see it—ever so slowly and ever so little. But it does. Then he is not dead."
They protested.
"No.... It's out of the question. Such a phenomenon would be inexplicable66."
"I'm not so sure ... I'm not so sure. It might be a kind of lethargy ... a kind of hypnotic trance," she murmured.
"A trance which lasted two hundred years?"
"I don't know.... I don't understand it."
"Well?"
"Well, we must act."
"But how?"
"As the will tells us to act. The instructions are quite definite. Our duty is to execute them blindly and without question."
"How?"
"Here it is," said Marco Dario, picking up from the stool a small object wrapped in linen68. He unfolded the wrapping and displayed a phial, of antique shape, heavy, of crystal, with a round bottom and long neck which terminated in a large wax cork69.
He handed it to Dorothy, who broke off the top of the neck with a sharp tap against the edge of the stool.
"Has any of you a knife?" she asked. "Thank you, Archibald. Open the blade and introduce the point between the teeth as the will directs."
They acted as might a doctor confronted by a patient whom he does not know exactly how to handle, but whom he nevertheless treats, without the slightest hesitation70, according to the formal prescription71 in use in similar cases. They would see what happened. The essential thing was to carry out the instructions.
Archibald Webster did not find it easy to perform his task. The lips were tightly closed, the upper teeth, for the most part black and decayed, were so firmly wedged against the lower that the knife-point could not force its way between them. He had to introduce it sideways, and then raise the handle to force the jaws72 apart.
"Don't move," said Dorothy.
She bent73 down. Her right hand, holding the phial, tilted74 it gently. A few drops of a liquid of the color and odor of green Chartreuse fell between the lips; then an even trickle75 flowed from the phial, which was soon empty.
"That's done," she said, straightening herself.
Looking at her companions, she tried to smile. All of them were staring at the dead man.
She murmured: "We've got to wait. It doesn't work straightaway."
And as she uttered the words she thought:
"And then what? I am ready to admit that it will have an effect and that this man will awake from sleep! Or rather from death.... For such a sleep is nothing but death. No: really we are the victims of a collective hallucination.... No: there was no film on the mirror. No: the chest does not rise and fall. No—a thousand times no! One does not come to life again!"
"Three minutes gone," said Marco Dario.
And watch in hand, he counted, minute by minute, five more minutes—then five more.
The waiting of these six persons would have been incomprehensible, had its explanation not been found in the fact that all the events foretold76 by the Marquis de Beaugreval had followed one another with mathematical precision. There had been a series of facts which was very like a series of miracles, which compelled the witnesses of those facts to be patient—at least till the moment fixed for the supreme77 miracle.
"Fifteen minutes," said the Italian.
A few more seconds passed. Of a sudden they quivered. A hushed exclamation78 burst from the lips of each. The man's eyelids had moved.
In a moment the phenomenon was repeated, and so clearly and distinctly that further doubt was impossible. It was the twitching79 of two eyes that tried to open. At the same time the arms stirred. The hands quivered.
"Oh!" stuttered the distracted notary. "He's alive! He's alive!"
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1
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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elixir
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| n.长生不老药，万能药 | |
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3
authentic
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| a.真的，真正的；可靠的，可信的，有根据的 | |
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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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5
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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7
codicil
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| n.遗嘱的附录 | |
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8
improvised
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| a.即席而作的,即兴的 | |
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9
feats
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| 功绩，伟业，技艺( feat的名词复数 ) | |
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10
crumbled
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| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
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11
crumble
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| vi.碎裂，崩溃；vt.弄碎，摧毁 | |
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12
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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14
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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15
acrobat
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| n.特技演员，杂技演员 | |
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16
deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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18
glade
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| n.林间空地，一片表面有草的沼泽低地 | |
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19
vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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22
feudal
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| adj.封建的，封地的，领地的 | |
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23
enchanted
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| 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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24
resuscitate
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| v.使复活，使苏醒 | |
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25
foaming
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| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
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formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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28
labors
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| v.努力争取(for)( labor的第三人称单数 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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29
enjoined
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| v.命令( enjoin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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nave
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| n.教堂的中部；本堂 | |
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31
vaulted
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| adj.拱状的 | |
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32
chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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33
gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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34
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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36
equivocation
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| n.模棱两可的话，含糊话 | |
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37
groove
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| n.沟，槽；凹线，（刻出的）线条，习惯 | |
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38
confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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39
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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40
notary
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| n.公证人，公证员 | |
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41
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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42
jutting
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| v.（使）突出( jut的现在分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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43
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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44
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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45
virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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46
ornament
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| v.装饰，美化；n.装饰，装饰物 | |
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alcove
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| n.凹室 | |
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tapestry
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| n.挂毯，丰富多采的画面 | |
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fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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perturbed
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| adj.烦燥不安的v.使（某人）烦恼，不安( perturb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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besought
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| v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的过去式和过去分词 )；(beseech的过去式与过去分词) | |
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lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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prescription
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| n.处方，开药；指示，规定 | |
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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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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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tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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foretold
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| v.预言，预示( foretell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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