‘Find it?’ asked Lady Matilda, when her nephew returned to the whitedrawing-room, as her sitting-room1 was usually called. ‘Interesting face,isn’t it?’
‘Yes, quite handsome, too.’
‘It’s much better to be interesting than handsome. But you haven’t beenin Hungary or Austria, have you? You wouldn’t meet anyone like her outin Malaya? She wouldn’t be sitting around a table there making little notesor correcting speeches or things like that. She was a wild creature, by allaccounts. Lovely manners and all the rest of it. But wild. Wild as a wildbird. She didn’t know what danger was.’
‘How do you know so much about her?’
‘Oh, I agree I wasn’t a contemporary of hers, I wasn’t born until severalyears after she was dead. All the same, I’ve always been interested in her.
She was adventurous2, you know. Very adventurous. Very queer storieswere told about her, about things she was mixed up in.’
‘And how did my great-great-great-grandfather react to that?’
‘I expect it worried him to death,’ said Lady Matilda. ‘They say he wasdevoted to her, though. By the way, Staffy, did you ever read The Prisonerof Zenda?’
‘Prisoner of Zenda? Sounds very familiar.’
‘Well, of course it’s familiar, it’s a book.’
‘Yes, yes, I realize it’s a book.’
‘You wouldn’t know about it, I expect. After your time. But when I was agirl– that’s about the first taste of romance we got. Not pop singers orBeatles. Just a romantic novel. We weren’t allowed to read novels when Iwas young. Not in the morning anyway. You could read them in the after-noon.’
‘What extraordinary rules,’ said Sir Stafford. ‘Why is it wrong to readnovels in the morning and not in the afternoon?’
‘Well, in the mornings, you see, girls were supposed to be doing some-thing useful. You know, doing the flowers or cleaning the silver photo-graph frames. All the things we girls did. Doing a bit of studying with thegoverness–all that sort of thing. In the afternoon we were allowed to sitdown and read a story book and The Prisoner of Zenda was usually one ofthe first ones that came our way.’
‘A very nice, respectable story, was it? I seem to remember somethingabout it. Perhaps I did read it. All very pure, I suppose. Not too sexy?’
‘Certainly not. We didn’t have sexy books. We had romance. The Pris-oner of Zenda was very romantic. One fell in love, usually, with the hero,Rudolf Rassendyll.’
‘I seem to remember that name too. Bit florid, isn’t it?’
‘Well, I still think it was rather a romantic name. Twelve years old, Imust have been. It made me think of it, you know, your going up and look-ing at that portrait. Princess Flavia,’ she added.
Stafford Nye was smiling at her.
‘You look young and pink and very sentimental4,’ he said.
‘Well, that’s just what I’m feeling. Girls can’t feel like that nowadays.
They’re swooning with love, or they’re fainting when somebody plays theguitar or sings in a very loud voice, but they’re not sentimental. But Iwasn’t in love with Rudolf Rassendyll. I was in love with the other one–hisdouble.’
‘Did he have a double?’
‘Oh yes, a king. The King of Ruritania.’
‘Ah, of course, now I know. That’s where the word Ruritania comesfrom: one is always throwing it about. Yes, I think I did read it, you know.
The King of Ruritania, and Rudolf Rassendyll was stand-in for the Kingand fell in love with Princess Flavia to whom the King was officially be-trothed.’
Lady Matilda gave some more deep sighs.
‘Yes. Rudolf Rassendyll had inherited his red hair from an ancestress,and somewhere in the book he bows to the portrait and says somethingabout the–I can’t remember the name now–the Countess Amelia or some-thing like that from whom he inherited his looks and all the rest of it. So Ilooked at you and thought of you as Rudolf Rassendyll and you went outand looked at a picture of someone who might have been an ancestress ofyours and saw whether she reminded you of someone. So you’re mixed upin a romance of some kind, are you?’
‘What on earth makes you say that?’
‘Well, there aren’t so many patterns in life, you know. One recognizespatterns as they come up. It’s like a book on knitting. About sixty-five dif-ferent fancy stitches. Well, you know a particular stitch when you see it.
Your stitch, at the moment, I should say, is the romantic adventure.’ Shesighed. ‘But you won’t tell me about it, I suppose.’
‘There’s nothing to tell,’ said Sir Stafford.
‘You always were quite an accomplished5 liar3. Well, never mind. Youbring her to see me some time. That’s all I’d like, before the doctors suc-ceed in killing6 me with yet another type of antibiotic7 that they’ve just dis-covered. The different coloured pills I’ve had to take by this time! Youwouldn’t believe it.’
‘I don’t know why you say “she” and “her”–’
‘Don’t you? Oh, well, I know a she when I come across a she. There’s ashe somewhere dodging8 about in your life. What beats me is how youfound her. In Malaya, at the conference table? Ambassador’s daughter orminister’s daughter? Good-looking secretary from the Embassy pool? No,none of it seems to fit. Ship coming home? No, you don’t use shipsnowadays. Plane, perhaps.’
‘You are getting slightly nearer,’ Sir Stafford Nye could not help saying.
‘Ah!’ She pounced9. ‘Air hostess?’
He shook his head.
‘Ah well. Keep your secret. I shall find out, mind you. I’ve always had agood nose for things going on where you’re concerned. Things generallyas well. Of course I’m out of everything nowadays, but I meet my oldcronies from time to time and it’s quite easy, you know, to get a hint ortwo from them. People are worried. Everywhere–they’re worried.’
‘You mean there’s a general kind of discontent–upset?’
‘No, I didn’t mean that at all. I mean the highups are worried. Our awfulgovernments are worried. The dear old sleepy Foreign Office is worried.
There are things going on, things that shouldn’t be. Unrest.’
‘Student unrest?’
‘Oh, student unrest is just one flower on the tree. It’s blossoming every-where and in every country, or so it seems. I’ve got a nice girl who comes,you know, and reads the papers to me in the mornings. I can’t read themproperly myself. She’s got a nice voice. Takes down my letters and shereads things from the papers and she’s a good kind girl. She reads thethings I want to know, not the things that she thinks are right for me toknow. Yes, everyone’s worried, as far as I can make out and this, mindyou, came more or less from a very old friend of mine.’
‘One of your old military cronies?’
‘He’s a major- general, if that’s what you mean, retired10 a good manyyears ago but still in the know. Youth is what you might call the spearheadof it all. But that’s not really what’s so worrying. They–whoever they are–work through youth. Youth in every country. Youth urged on. Youthchanting slogans, slogans that sound exciting, though they don’t alwaysknow what they mean. So easy to start a revolution. That’s natural toyouth. All youth has always rebelled. You rebel, you pull down, you wantthe world to be different from what it is. But you’re blind, too. There arebandages over the eyes of youth. They can’t see where things are takingthem. What’s going to come next? What’s in front of them? And who it isbehind them, urging them on? That’s what’s frightening about it. Youknow, someone holding out the carrot to get the donkey to come along andat the same time there is someone behind the donkey urging it on with astick.’
‘You’ve got some extraordinary fancies.’
‘They’re not only fancies, my dear boy. That’s what people said aboutHitler. Hitler and the Hitler Youth. But it was a long careful preparation. Itwas a war that was worked out in detail. It was a fifth column beingplanted in different countries all ready for the supermen. The supermenwere to be the flower of the German nation. That’s what they thought andbelieved in passionately11. Somebody else is perhaps believing somethinglike that now. It’s a creed12 that they’ll be willing to accept–if it’s offeredcleverly enough.’
‘Who are you talking about? Do you mean the Chinese or the Russians?
What do you mean?’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t the faintest idea. But there’s something some-where, and it’s running on the same lines. Pattern again, you see. Pattern!
The Russians? Bogged13 down by Communism, I should think they’re con-sidered old- fashioned. The Chinese? I think they’ve lost their way. Toomuch Chairman Mao, perhaps. I don’t know who these people are who aredoing the planning. As I said before, it’s why and where and when andwho.’
‘Very interesting.’
‘It’s so frightening, this same idea that always recurs14. History repeatingitself. The young hero, the golden superman that all must follow.’ Shepaused, then said, ‘Same idea, you know. The young Siegfried.’
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1
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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adventurous
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| adj.爱冒险的；惊心动魄的，惊险的，刺激的 | |
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3
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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antibiotic
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| adj.抗菌的；n.抗生素 | |
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dodging
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| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
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pounced
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| v.突然袭击( pounce的过去式和过去分词 )；猛扑；一眼看出；抓住机会（进行抨击） | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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12
creed
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| n.信条；信念，纲领 | |
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13
bogged
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| adj.陷于泥沼的v.（使）陷入泥沼， （使）陷入困境( bog的过去式和过去分词 )；妨碍，阻碍 | |
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14
recurs
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| 再发生，复发( recur的第三人称单数 ) | |
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